Diamond Jack—Abby Hubbard

Everyone has a role to play and Jack plays his especially well. He is the knave, the wild card, the one that parents tell stories about when their children won’t listen: “You’d better behave or you’ll call down Jack.” 

Jack never actually bothers with misbehaving children. That’s not really his jurisdiction, but if parents want to invoke his name as a lesson, he doesn’t mind it. In fact, he rather enjoys it. When he hears his name being tossed about so often, Jack’s ego can’t help but grow three sizes. Having a Jack with a big ego is bad enough but having a Jack with a big ego on Carnival is just asking for trouble.

Coming around once a year, Carnival is the biggest event in the world. People from all over flock to the city for the festivities. Food and games, magic and whimsy. Anything can happen at Carnival. And if Jack has his say, anything will. 

When Carnival finally arrives, Jack is a bundle of jitters. His fingers are buzzing to let out some of the chaos he’s kept stored inside. He stops in the mirror, brushes some invisible dirt from his red and black waistcoat and tilts his hat to the perfect angle. There’s a fine line between jaunty and surreptitious and Jack walks it like a tightrope. Jack himself is all angles, with long legs and a crooked smile. He is the physical embodiment of trouble, wrapped up in a dangerously charismatic bow.

“Perfect,” he mutters and blows a kiss to his reflection, who catches it and places it in its waistcoat pocket. Then, clicking the heels of his shiny red shoes together, Jack steps out of the door and into Carnival. 

Jack blends seamlessly into the crowd despite his attire because on Carnival, Jack’s outfit is always the most subdued. The crowd at Carnival is full of large multicolored hoop skirts, blindingly bright trousers, and three-piece suits where every color clashes violently with one another. So, Jack’s top hat and two-colored outfit draws no attention which was just what he wants. It’s easier to do his job when no one can see him. 

Jack decides to make his way to the spun sugar stand first, taking care to change some signs around as he does so. Throughout Carnival, people will be turning left to find the Fire-Juggler when they should be going straight ahead and looking for the Knife Dance Extravaganza, which doesn’t actually exist. 

The young merchant at the spun sugar stall is struggling to keep up with the line of people that has formed. Cursing under his breath, the merchant works twice as hard in an attempt to satisfy the hungry masses. The weather isn’t helping any: it’s a very hot Carnival, which is not conducive for making spun sugar. Earlier on, the merchant had tried to anticipate the demand for his wares, but any extras that he made melted into sticky, pastel puddles within seconds. 

The merchant is in the middle of handing a little girl her sugar when a man cuts in front of her, grabbing the treat for himself. The little girl screams and the merchant opens his mouth to tell the interloper off. Before he can do so, the man reaches into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulls out a gold coin. 

“For your troubles,” the man says, flipping the coin in the air. 

The merchant holds out his hand and the coin drops into it. His mouth falls open at the sight of the shimmering gold. It was worth more money than he could hope to make in five Carnivals. “Thank you,” the merchant says, taking off his hat. “Thank you very much, sir.” 

The man smiles, a gesture that the merchant sees as kind. Unfortunately for the inexperienced merchant, no one ever taught him the cardinal rule of Carnival: never take money from a Jack.

A young couple wanders around Carnival, hand in hand. They’d been eyeing each other for some time now and he had finally plucked up the courage to ask her on a date. His pocket square matches her vermillion dress and they look about as lovesick as it can get.

Their meandering takes them past the spun sugar stall where a man in red and black leans against a sign that says Ms. Opal’s Magnificent Menagerie is just ahead. It’s actually back the way they had come but that’s neither here nor there.

The man is methodically eating his spun sugar piece by piece. Where everyone else’s spun sugar looks sad, the man’s is undisturbed by the heat. He glances up at the couple and winks at the young lady. She laughs behind her free hand despite herself as the grip of her other one loosens. The young man stares at the man in red and black, who responds with the same cheeky wink he gave the young lady. The young man’s grip on his date’s hand also loosens until they are no longer grasping each other like lifelines. The man in red and black pops the last piece of spun sugar in his mouth and tips his hat before tossing the empty stick on the ground and disappearing into the crowd.

Now unsure as to why they are standing there together, both halves of the couple make polite excuses and begin to wander Carnival in search of the man in red and black. The young man removes his pocket square, having completely forgotten why he wore one in the first place. The young lady begins to ask around about the mystery man, blushing a similar shade to her dress as she does so.

The aerialist always performs in the center of Carnival. She is the biggest attraction, after all. Her feats used to border on the impossible, but everyone says it has been many years since she last crossed that line. The little girl from the spun sugar stall watches in amazement as the aerialist swings above the crowd, her arms wrapped up in red silk. She performs the tricks so elegantly it looks almost like magic. 

The little girl drags her attention away from the aerialist, who is now climbing up the silk ribbons. She only does so because she spots a familiar looking man standing on the edge of the crowd, the man who stole her spun sugar. He’s also watching the aerialist, but with an expression that the little girl can’t name. It’s the kind of expression she imagines she has when she’s about to do something she knows she isn’t supposed to do. She watches a lazy grin stretch across his face as he raises a gloved hand and he snaps his fingers. 

A tearing sound draws the little girl’s gaze back to the aerialist just in time to see her fall to the ground with a sickening crunch. A gasp ripples through the crowd and the little girl looks back to see the man staring at the lifeless form of the aerialist with a different, but still unreadable, expression. He takes a step back before shaking his head quickly, his wide eyes and slightly open mouth being replaced by a blank slate before he turns and walks away. 

The young lady approaches the spun sugar stall, hopeful that the merchant would know who she was asking about.

“Hello there?” she calls. “Have you seen a man in a red and black waistcoat? I believe he was here earlier.”

The merchant rubs a hand across his chin, looking up in thought. “A man in red and black?” he parrots. His eyes widen. “Oh yes! Yes, I know the man you’re talking about. Came by here and bought some spun sugar from me. Paid for it with a gold coin!” 

“Can you tell me where he went?” the young lady asks. She hears how pleading her voice sounds and a small part of her hates it. A larger part of her, a part that didn’t even exist until an hour or so ago, only cares about finding the man in red and black. 

The merchant is ignoring her question, instead digging around in the small bag where he kept his earnings. “Where is it?” he mutters. “I know it was here.”

“Can you please tell me where he went?” the young lady asks. “I really must find him.” 

“Where is it? Where did it go?” The merchant’s mumblings are getting more and more frantic. He turns and dumps the contents of the bag onto the small counter. Dozens of copper coins and bits of bronze spill out, but no gold coin. The merchant lets out a strangled cry and the young lady backs away slowly. 

She’ll have to look for the man in red and black somewhere else.

The blind fortune teller sits in an unassuming brown tent behind the Hall of Mirrors. She’s had a fair amount of traffic since Carnival began and her iron kettle is full of glittering coins. The tent is dark, only lit by a few pillar candles placed sporadically around the wooden table where the fortune teller sits. Contrary to popular belief, fortune tellers don’t need to work in low-light settings; this fortune teller just likes it better that way. 

She hears the flap of the tent open as a new customer walks in. Footsteps approach the table and the cushion opposite the fortune teller lets out a soft sigh as a body sinks onto it. The fortune teller smells something that at first seems like a perfume of some kind, but she quickly realizes it isn’t. It’s a sickeningly sweet smell, like maple candies and icing on honey cakes. She knows who this is.

“What brings you to my tent, wanderer?” the fortune teller asks, her voice wizened and creaky. 

“Curiosity.” The voice that speaks is calm and poised, but there is a hint of something behind his words. Something that reminds the fortune teller of hearing distant thunder and not knowing whether or not it’s coming closer.

“You truly wish to know your fate?” Normally, this question is a hook, but this time the fortune teller is curious too. All her years at Carnival and this is the first time he’s ever visited her. 

“Why not?” the man replies flippantly. “Tell me what you see.” 

The fortune teller closes her eyes and reaches across the table to find the hand that the man has extended to her. As soon as her fingers brush his, a vision flashes before her eyes. Everything moves so quickly that she struggles to discern a single detail. She takes his hand in hers, hoping to stabilize the vision but it just moves faster. Her eyes dart back and forth underneath her lids as chaos swirls in her mind. Then, just as suddenly as it begins, the vision stops. She drops his hand and opens her eyes.

“Well?” he prompts. “What did you see?” 

A very good question, what did she see? Clearing her throat and calming her mind, the fortune teller answers.

“I saw nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“You are unreadable to me.” 

He laughs. “Wonderful!” The fortune teller hears him rise from the cushion. He takes her hand in his and places a kiss on the back of it. “Just a bit of good luck.” She hears a clink as a coin is dropped into her kettle.

“Keep your money, sir,” she says quickly. “No reading, no charge.” 

“I insist,” the man replies, walking to the tent flap. The fortune teller hears the rustle of canvas being moved.

“I know what you are.” The sound stops. “Your magic doesn’t work on me.” 

The man makes no response as the tent flap is brushed aside and the fortune teller is alone again.

The young man is walking in circles. He’s passed this sign before, the one telling him where to find the Fire-Juggler and Knife Dance Extravaganza, but it looks different this time. Now, below those is a sign pointing straight ahead that simply reads: 

THIS WAY

The young man is certain that wasn’t there before. Curiosity overwhelms him so he goes straight.

He comes across more signs, placed every few feet, that say:

JUST A LITTLE FARTHER

KEEP GOING

YOU’RE ALMOST THERE

BINGO!

Now the young man is on the fringes of Carnival. The constant noise that accompanies the holiday sounds far off. Looking around, the young man sees nothing of interest so he turns around to head back. Right behind him, however, is a massive birch tree that definitely wasn’t there when he walked here. Leaning against the tree is the man in the red and black waistcoat.

“Ah, you found me,” the man says. “I was wondering which one of you it would be. My name is Jack.” He holds out his hand expectantly. 

The young man takes it after a moment of hesitation. He had been searching for this man, Jack, since he saw him earlier but now that he sees him up close, the young man only feels trepidation. Something about his eyes sends a chill down his spine. They’re sparkling, but there’s nothing behind them. A layer of glitter over an endless void. “Charles,” he says. “Pleased to meet you.” 

“Oh, don’t say that too soon, Charlie Boy,” Jack replies with a wink. “By the end of the night, you’ll probably wish you’d never met me.” 

The young lady enters the tent of the fortune teller as a last resort. She doesn’t believe in this sort of thing as a general rule, but she’s run out of ideas. 

“What brings you here, child?” the fortune teller asks. 

“I’m looking for someone,” the young lady says. 

The fortune teller gestures to the cushion across from her. “Sit down. I know who you are looking for.” 

The young lady navigates her way into a seated position, or at least as close as she can manage with her dress. “You know who I’m looking for?”

“Of course I do,” the fortune teller replies, rummaging through her collection kettle. “You’re looking for Jack. Here.” She holds out a gold coin. 

The young lady takes it and examines it. She’s never seen a coin like it before. A top hat is featured on one side, a diamond on the other. “What is this for?”

“To help you find Jack. When you come to a crossroads, flip the coin and it will tell you the way.” 

“That’s impossible,” the young lady says. “It’s just a coin.” 

The fortune teller shakes her head. “Nothing is ever ‘just’ anything when it comes to a Jack. You’re going to have to start believing in the impossible, Sarah, if you want to find him.” 

The young lady didn’t ask how the fortune teller knew her name.

“I assume you’ve heard about the unfortunate mishap with the aerialist.” 

Charles nods. He didn’t see it himself, but he heard the whispers of the others. How she was climbing the silks, probably to perform her famous drop, and they ripped without warning. There was nothing to be done. Charles had passed the center of Carnival, where the aerialist performs, after it happened. There was nothing but the torn silks fluttering in the breeze and a red stain on the cobblestone below. She never performed with safety precautions. She had never needed them before.

Jack’s expression twists into something close to remorse before smoothing back out. He seems incapable of showing any emotion other than nonchalance for more than a few seconds. “Tragic,” he says, “she was only supposed to break a leg or two, but what’s done is done. Now I need your help to keep it from getting worse.”

“What do you mean?” Charles asks. 

Jack raises a hand and pulls off the black glove covering it. His fingers look as though they were recently on fire, singed and smoking slightly. Charles recoils. 

“Imagine how it feels,” Jack says, putting the glove back on. “I’m burning through this body and the chaos is slipping out in ways I can no longer control.” 

Charles finally put the pieces together. “Your name is Jack? You’re a Jack, aren’t you?” “Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes,” Jack says, holding out his hands and inclining his 

head in a bow. “I thought it was more obvious than that. Now about everyone’s impending doom…I need a new body.”

Sarah finds herself walking out of Carnival as she follows the directions of the gold coin. It has taken her from the fortune teller’s tent past the spun sugar stall and the Knife Dance Extravaganza, which appeared just a few minutes ago and has already injured five people, to the edge of Carnival. She deliberately avoided the center of Carnival once she heard about the aerialist. The coin had adjusted itself accordingly. 

Sarah hears voices up ahead and slips the coin into her dress pocket. She creeps up behind a birch tree and listens.

“It’ll only work if you’re willing. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered with all of this, I would have just taken it when I had the chance.” This voice has a slippery quality to it. Something in the back of Sarah’s mind tells her this must be Jack.

“If I do this,” the second voice says, “the chaos will be contained? No one else will get hurt?” The second voice sounds familiar, but the memory of it keeps drifting away from her. She peers around the tree to see a young man standing before the man in red and black. She can’t see the young man’s face, but she can see Jack’s. A sly grin exposes his brilliant straight white teeth. 

“I can’t promise that, but I can promise that no one else will die. I tend to keep away from life-threatening injuries as a rule. Not much fun in those. But chaos gets difficult to control when your physical form is slowly burning away so sometimes accidents happen.”

“Okay,” the young man says, nodding, “I’ll do it.”

“You know there’s no going back, right?” Jack says, suddenly serious. “Once I take over your body, that’s it.”

The young man nods again. “What do I need to do?” 

Jack reaches up and removes his top hat. “Put this on.” 

The young man does so.

Jack then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold coin. Sarah feels her own pocket and finds that her coin has disappeared. “Take this.” 

The young man takes the coin and puts it in his pocket. As soon as he does, his horrid blue and pink striped suit is replaced with a red and black waistcoat. His shoes, formerly brown and worn out, become shiny, red, and pointed. 

“What next?” he asks.

“Give me your name. Your full name.”

“Charles Edwin Thomas.” 

“Well, Charles Edwin Thomas,” Jack says, placing his hands on the young man’s shoulders, “you’re doing a good thing. This may sting a little.” Sarah has to screw her eyes shut as a bright white light envelopes both Jack and the young man, Charles. Just before that, however, Jack looks at her over Charles’s shoulder and winks.

When she opens her eyes again, there is nothing there, not even the birch tree. Sarah looks around and wonders what she’s doing so far away from Carnival. She makes her way back and decides to visit the Knife Dance Extravaganza when the sign catches her eye. She’s disappointed when she finds that it’s no longer there, but not as disappointed as she would have been if it still was. She doesn’t notice the rust-red stains on the ground.

The man who looks like Charles but is no longer Charles, and maybe never was, has also made his way back to Carnival. He is watching the Fire-Juggler’s last performance of the night, as Carnival is coming to a close. Brushing some invisible dirt from his red and black waistcoat, Jack adjusts his hat and snaps his fingers. 

The Fire-Juggler’s hair will grow back eventually but the scar will be another story for the children. Everyone has a role to play and Jack plays his especially well.

photo by Ethan Hoover (via unsplash)