Jaclyn and the Beanstalk

by Mary Ting

  How am I to climb? You can do this.

  No time to fret. I would figure it out once I got to that point. I ascended, one foot after the other, until the sun stretched and dipped even lower toward the horizon. I had thought about carrying the lantern with me, but it would have only gotten in the way, and the breeze would have blown out the flame.

  Sometimes my cloak caught the wind, dragging me sideways. The frigid air blew relentlessly, challenging me. I clutched tighter, but my numbed fingers made it difficult to hold steady. A few times I almost lost my grip, but I carried on.

  I was halfway up the mountain when darkness crept slowly across the land. The silver moon and diamond stars seemed closer and brighter. They were my only companions, so I kept my eyes on them. But the hike was just the beginning. Tilting my head up, I stiffened. My muscles ached, tired.

  Must continue to climb for Father. Do not stop now. Keep going.

  Every slap from the wind became a battle. Every inch became a struggle, as my lungs filled with the heavy frosty air. My trembling body, like the icicles on the frozen trees, begged me to stop and find warmth, but I carried on.

  The monsters would not be the death of me; I would die climbing that treacherous mountain.

  I found a place to rest where my footing steadied. Knowing I had to use my daggers since the mountain had become steeper, I took one out from my boot and clenched it between my teeth. Then I took out the other one.

  Feeling something bumpy inside my boot, I stuck my finger inside. A pebble must have gotten inside it. When I pulled it out, I saw one of the beans the crazy woman had given me. Then it blew out of my hand.

  With the events of the past couple of days, I hadn’t thought about them. Even when Mother had helped me change, I’d slipped my feet right back in and had not felt them.

  The foolish old woman had said I would need them someday, but that did not mean it was true. Yet I found it strangely sad that I’d lost one.

  How in the world can a tiny little bean help me?

  I brushed the thought aside. I had no time to dwell. One after the other, I wedged the daggers into the cracks of the sheer mountain face and used them as handholds.

  Not so bad. For Father, I must climb. Hurry. I chanted repeatedly for courage and strength.

  There were two problems. Finding a solid spot to get my footing seemed almost impossible the farther I climbed, and my limbs continued to shake with cold and exhaustion.

  An eerie shiver ran through me. Long gouges marked the face of the mountain, indicating what I already knew. The monsters had sharp claws.

  From far away, the mountain did not look half so steep. I had to decide—keep moving with the possibility of dying as my body gave out or go back down.

  Tears stung my eyes and I sobbed. So tired. So tired. So tired. My muscles protested.

  No. No. No. Please, someone help me.

  I should have waited for Mother, but deep down I knew no one would help the captured men. Who would be crazy enough to do so? Fate had made my choice for me.

  I pulled out the left dagger to wedge in another crack, but my foot slipped and I lost my balance. Cursing under my breath, I kicked wildly, seeking a foothold.

  My stomach dropped. I slammed against the face of the mountain. I slapped the wall to clutch to something, anything.

  My chest, arms, and legs scraped against the surface as I plummeted. Poor judgment, stupidity, and stubbornness would kill me. Still holding on to the daggers, at last, I tumbled over a precipice overhanging a ravine and fell freely, screaming.

  They say when you face death, you see days long past, but I did not. The image of the man I had seen when I’d touched the lance flashed before me, the face and the scar clearer than before.

  The sorrow in his eyes grew heavier, watching me fall. My mind seemed possessed by the demon before my demise. Any second, death would come, and I prayed my soul would find salvation.

  I closed my eyes, seeing my mother and father’s faces, and silently telling them how much I loved them. And my Angel. Who would take care of her? My mother. What would become of her if her daughter and husband never returned?

  The thought of leaving my mother alone in the world crushed me.

  I couldn’t die. My life had just begun.

  I fell faster and faster as air swooshed around me. I had no choice but to surrender to death.

  Then I felt only the ache of slamming into the ground, which made sense, but it did not crush me. I had expected pain beyond what a human could bear. Instead, my stomach settled and my heart beat steadier as I felt myself rise off the ground.

  Up and up and up I soared. A different kind of fluttering sensation took over. Butterflies swirled in my stomach frantically as if caged inside.

  I shot my eyes open to a blanket of stars, like flashing pinpricks in a wall of darkness, and felt as though I were being carried to them. Impossible. Reaching to the right and left of me, I fanned my fingers out over a cool, ridged surface.

  When I flipped over, my stomach jumped to my heart and Mother’s soup rose to my throat. A giant, fast-growing beanstalk lifted me higher and higher off the ground. Digging my fingers into the leaf’s spongy yet firm surface, I held on for dear life.

  Is it a dream?

  I’d died and a vine was carrying me to Heaven? But my lantern and Angel, so tiny, were where I’d left them, shrinking as I flew.

  The bean came to mind. I hadn’t suspected powerful magic inside such a small, ugly thing. My head spun with many questions, but I surrendered to wonder.

  The old woman had saved my life.

  Not witch or devil, but an angel perhaps. Why me?

  I stopped thinking and took pleasure in the ride as I punched through endless layers of misty clouds that cloaked everything below me. The vine took me right where I needed to be.

  The unforgiving wind calmed to a whisper, but the freezing air remained. No monsters awaited. Just some dried, short hedges by the entrance of the cave, veiled by thick haze, and a flickering torchlight from inside.

  I worried the beanstalk would shrink back down to a bean or wither when I stepped off, but it did not. I would not know the way down if the beanstalk disappeared. The other two beans pushed against my skin inside my boot; I would hold them for dear life.

  After blessing the beanstalk—foolish thought—and thanking God and the old lady, I felt my confidence blossom.

  With only two daggers by my side, I cautiously paced to an entrance of a dark cave ... a devil’s home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Monsters’ Cave

  Fear and I had been best enemies since last night when my father had disappeared, but I’d never experienced it more intensely than I did at that very moment. It coiled around my heart.

  A breeze caressed against me like a ghost’s touch, and musty air infused my nose. I welcomed it after the stinging wind outside.

  No sounds of monsters greeted me.

  My hand trembling, I held out my daggers, ready to strike as my boots scraped with every cautious step. I would not have thought monsters would make time to put up torchlights, yet torches hung every few feet.

  Chills prickled down my spine. I gasped and halted when giant footprints, not just two or ten, but countless stamped the dirt. By the size of the footprints, my estimation of their height was not far off. The ceiling reached high, about thirty feet.

  Oh God. What have I done?

  How was I to survive? One of me and at least hundreds of them. I had willingly offered myself to be the monsters’ dinner—a mouse inside a lion’s den with no way out.

  No. Stop thinking, Jaclyn. You mustn’t think. Father needs you. You have no choice. In your heart, you know no help will come. Have faith.

  I willed my courage and crawled ahead, aware of every sound.

  Gouges marked the cave wall on either side of me the farther I walked in. As I examined and followed the marks, a haunting ancient tune whispered in my ear, coaxing me by turns to leave or stay. But I di
d not fear it. I knew the soft hums were not from the beasts.

  Then I caught the sound of a gentle flow of water, which gave me some comfort, but I knew better than to ease my guard. Monsters lived in the cave. No peace awaited me.

  Gripping my daggers tighter, I waited for monsters to jump at me. Only my shadow followed, changing its position as I walked.

  Footsteps echoed behind me. I looked over my shoulder every few feet, but there was no one there except a family of rats scurrying away. I breathed a sigh of relief, but it died quickly, when the cave opened to a cavern, split by a ravine.

  A new world materialized before me. Countless torches glowed bright as a sunrise. A long, rickety bridge separated me from the other side. Below, the darkness of the abyss stilled my heart. I listened for the monsters, and when I heard nothing, I crept ahead.

  The wooden bridge swung when I stepped on it. The gaps between the planks stirred my imagination. I envisioned a hand thrusting through and grabbing my ankle.

  I tried not to think about the bridge collapsing, for if it did, nothing would stop my fall into the endless, dark pit. With my heart pounding and my knees shaking, I trudged ahead. Each step, I prayed, took me closer to Father.

  When I reached the end, I shuddered with relief, but no giants appeared. Had I adventured to the wrong mountain? Surely, the long claw markings on the wall, the footprints, and face of the mountain told the true path.

  Who would be foolish enough to visit there, let alone live near the monsters? Again, I looked over my shoulder at a rustle behind me, sensing someone watching me. Nothing. When no one appeared, an eerie shiver raised goosebumps on my skin.

  I marched ahead softly, my boots grinding into pebbled ground. My eyes roamed to the high ceiling and then the emptiness ahead. I reminded myself the monsters were giants, and I was their meal.

  Farther in, lanterns and torches gave off brighter light to my right. I hid behind the closest boulder when I spotted people.

  People moved under the torchlight. Their faces pale as ghosts, they dragged their bare feet, leaving behind a trail. Then I saw all were men, bare-chested and only wearing torn breeches. What were they doing there?

  I scurried from boulder to boulder, getting closer to observe their actions. Their faces, necks, arms, chests, and all visible flesh were marked with fresh scars, raw but bloodless. Grime and dried blood caked their skin as if they hadn’t washed in months.

  ’Twas the monsters’ doing?

  I moved closer, careful not to alarm them. A village of men lived there. Far to my left, sheep milled about inside wooden bars. Then I saw more people. More men lay on the hay in slumber near a narrow stream, and many wood fires burned. Some gathered to warm themselves at the flames.

  I searched for Father and his friends. Not seeing them, I stayed in the darkness and hid behind the boulders as I pushed on. My chest heaved and sickness crawled in my stomach, but curiosity bedeviled me.

  Blood and torn flesh hung from people’s faces. I turned away and tried to gaze beyond, but the closer I got, the more difficult it became to look away.

  Pushing past the gruesome village, I climbed up a slope and resumed my search deeper into the cavern. I stopped when I saw a man at an old wooden table large enough to seat twelve, eating a feast fit for a king.

  The lantern on the table flickered over his bare back and chest. His shoulders were broad, and his chest was as bronzed as his features from the sun’s touch. The large muscles on his arms tightened and flexed as he tore the meat with his teeth.

  Grime, dried blood, and open wounds covered the shirtless man, just like the other people, as if an animal with long claws had slashed at his chest.

  Who is he?

  My mouth watered from the overpowering smell of roasted meat, and I wanted to steal his beef. The rumbling in my stomach turned to hunger pain, but it would have to wait. Food had been the last thing on my mind until I’d seen and smelled the feast. I wondered how the other people could ignore it.

  Strangely, no one glanced in his direction, as if they would be punished for it. The people also did not speak. No voices echoed in the cave; only the dragging of their feet, the crackling from the wood fire, and the sheep milling about broke the silence.

  I slid down a boulder, tucked my knees and the daggers into my chest, and tried to wrap my mind around what I’d seen as I closed my cloak around me for warmth. Nothing made sense. Knowing they could not see me, I took a moment to breathe.

  I needed to find Father, but it would have to wait till they were asleep, and I also needed rest. Tired, hungry, and weak, I leaned my head on the rock. Before I closed my eyes, my thoughts drifted to a happy home and the safety of my bedchamber.

  Something cold on my face awakened me. I opened my eyes and sat up. Fear replaced the peace and stillness when I recalled where I was. The daggers had fallen from my hands. I picked them up and pulled them close to my chest.

  The rays through the cracks in the cave above told me the sun had risen. The light seeped through many tiny holes that had been impossible to see the night before.

  Peeking around the boulder that was three times my size, I did not see a soul except for the sheep. Even the man who had been eating had gone, but when I stood, I jumped back in surprise. The people laid on the ground in slumber. All of them.

  Cautiously, I stepped out of my safety and tried to edge around them, but it was not possible. They lay side to side, filling up the space. Step by step, I held my breath as my pulse quickened with each stride, my daggers ready.

  A closer look confirmed they were all men. They had almost healed completely. Their skin started to glue itself together. The blood, long claw marks, and broken skin—almost gone. By the grace of God ... A miracle? Or the work of the devil?

  The image of them waking up—or worse, pulling me down—invaded my mind. Those thoughts weakened my courage. With my daggers ready to strike, I moved faster and held my breath until I arrived on the other side.

  I’d made it to the table where the man had sat alone eating. I grabbed a piece of bread, a chunk of cheese, an apple, and took bites of the meat. I wanted to take more, but I did not want the man to start questioning.

  As I bit the apple, sweet juice filled my mouth. Needing to quench my thirst and feed my hunger, I moved far back, taking bits of bread and cheese. The icy draft that drifted over my skin made me tremble, as no sunlight penetrated the area.

  The trickling of a gentle stream caught my attention, and I halted to watch it snake around the bend into the darkness. Then wooden bars appeared at the corner of my vision as I was about to take another bite. A prison?

  A body with a dark cape hunched by the wall, and next to him two more curled on the ground. Father and his friends? Then I saw the hat with a hole. Father’s hat. I’d never been so happy to see that hole.

  I picked up a handful of stones as the foul smell of urine wrinkled my nose.

  “Father?” I whispered. My heart blazed with warmth.

  No answer.

  “Father?” I threw pebbles at the sleeping body.

  Still no answer.

  A few rats scurried away, disturbed.

  “Father,” I said, a bit louder.

  Bodies shifted and stretched as if waking from a long sleep.

  A man whipped around, rubbing his eyes. “Jaclyn?”

  Chapter Twelve

  The Prisoners Found

  “Father. I found you at last.”

  My heart burst with happiness, and I wiped the tears pooled in my eyes.

  I shook the wooden bars. Yanking at the poles did no good. Desperately, I tugged and pulled. Nothing. Foolish of me to think I had the strength to break the bars. Surely Father and his friends had tried.

  Father rushed to me and gripped the wooden poles between us. His brown eyes, darker in the shadows, grew wider, unbelieving. Dirt and mud caked his face, hair, breeches, and cape.

  “Jaclyn.”

  His scolding tone shocked me.

  �
��What in the heavens are you doing here? How ... how did you get here? How did you even know I was here?” His eyes searched mine with fright.

  I had never seen his irises so big before, and I had never heard Father curse until then. I shifted to the two men who rose to stand next to him.

  “Is this Jaclyn? It’s been far too long. She’s grown up.” William smiled at me, his green eyes glistening in the torchlight.

  “It’s nice to see you again.” I gave him a wry smile with a quick bow.

  Then his expression changed. His lips thinned to a line and his eyebrows arched with concern. “I’m most surprised to see you here. I do not know how or why you are here. ’Tis impossible.”

  “Good day. I’m John. I’ve never had the pleasure to meet such beauty,” a man said. I dropped my head and looked back up. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

  They were both filthy like my father, and they smelled foul. With long faces and bags under their eyelashes, they did not look well. Father’s grunt caught my attention.

  “Run, Jaclyn. Go home. Where’s your mother? She doesn’t know you sneaked away, eh? She must be sick with worry.” His tone turned somber, and he dipped his head lower.

  I shamefully shook my head. I’d disobeyed and lied, but I had no choice. “Mother went to William’s town to gather men.” I turned to William. “She went to tell your family. Your sons will come for you, and so will men from your town.”

  “The men are cowards.” William’s face twisted in disgust. “They will not come. They would not come with us. If they had, perhaps fate would be different.”

  “I did not see the monsters. Where are they?” I looked over my shoulder.

  The people still slept, recovering. I wondered what would happen to them when the healing completed.

  “How do you know about the monsters?” Father’s shoulders slumped and he clenched the bars tighter. “Who told you?”

  “I can explain later. Now is not the time, Father.”

  “I don’t know where the monsters are,” John answered, running his hand through his hair. “The three of us awoke in this prison. We had been captured, dragged, somehow carried up the mountain, and dumped here.” He gazed down to a small lock. “You need to find the key, but I’m afraid it’s nearly impossible.”