Jack and Jill

He was dreaming.
         Fields of lush green and tall weeds blurred past his feet, leaves whipping at his bare legs, burrs catching in the knots of his shoes. The sky was a brilliant blue overhead, a blue so invigorating the world seemed full of joy and hope. The pail was swinging in one hand, light and lofty. She held his other hand.
         Jack and Jill ran on, up the steeping hill, their pace only slightly marred. Their run was light and fragile in youth, both feeling an encompassing cheer that seemed to escape adults. Jack turned to look at his twin. She was a vision-- a scarlet cheeked, blonde locked angel, eyes a twinkling azure that shamed the sky. He gripped her hand tighter, happy she belonged to him.
         The pair tackled the grassy incline until their breath ran hard and shallow in their throats, then climbing at a more leisurely pace, all the while singing bits and pieces they knew of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” It was from some new “band” from England Momma said, and they enjoyed listening to it in the car on rides to school. It gave them both a guilty pleasure, listening to music Daddy deemed “the devil’s h-e-double hockey stick music.”
         At last, on top of the great hill stood the well, a bent and breaking thing that Daddy still insisted on using for Momma’s cooking on every occasion. Jack released Jill’s hand and set the pail on the ground at the lip of the well. Using the pulley, Jack hoisted with all his strength, Jill waiting calmly to fill pail. When the well bucket rose above the shadows, heavy with liquid, Jack froze in his place.
         The bucket was full of blood.
         Steaming in the cool air, the blood was sickening, churning gently from the lift. Jill had not noticed the change. Before Jack had time to scream, Jill had begun pouring the blood into their pail. In surprise, she flung the bucket away, but not before it splattered across her dress and her face. Jack released his hold on the pulley; the bucket disappearing into the well’s depths, it and its contents swallowed by the darkness. He quickly raced to his sister.
         But her eyes were smeared with running red and salty tears when she looked at him, as though blood were gushing from those pretty azures. Jack couldn’t contain his scream.

         He roused with a start.
         The stench of vinegar filled his nostrils, the room black and still with the night. Jack shuddered for an instant, recalling the blood and Jill’s eyes…
         Then everything struck him like a wave¾ Jill was dead. Jill had fallen from the hill, but she hadn’t gotten back up. There had been so much blood. Jack’s eyes clamped down against the flood, pain shattering his heart like a dagger. He wanted to cry out, but vaguely remembered Jesse was in the room too. Jesse hadn’t wanted to sleep alone after what had happened to Jill. Jack could feel the warmth of his younger brother against his back and pulled away, slipping from the warm covers of his bed to the chilled floor. There was a moment when he only stared into the dark, his soul that pit of black so empty and masked. Sobs sweltered through him then, gripping his body and rendering him beyond sight and feeling, tiny fist hammering into the bedpost.
         After long moments, his grief was stifled by the pain in his head, and he ripped the wretched brown paper from around his skull. Fingers looped through the tangles of his blonde hair, feeling the crusty scab of blood that mounted his own plummet to the ground.
         He hadn’t died though.
         Jack could feel eyes upon him suddenly, blank gaze pulsing into the back of his head. With a whip around, Jack faced the bleary-eyed grimace of his brother, churned in a mass of sheets, his innocent face sad and knowing. Jesse’s red hair was tousled in a heap, his usually belligerent expression softened almost beyond recognition.
         No one had told him about Jill. His parents had make Jack swear to keep his tongue, all the while yelling in sorrow at the loss of their only daughter. Their perfect twins were no longer a set. Jack could read into Jesse’s eyes though. Jack knew that Jesse had figured out where his sister had gone long before their parents had called the cops, so entranced in their own pitiful wails, how could it not be obvious?
         Blurry scenes flashed into Jack’s mind for an instant: Jill, pretty azure eyes ghastly staring at the sky in death, blood spilling eagerly between her golden locks, Jack’s hands cupping the angelic face of his sister as he cried for her to wake up¾
         Jack could feel the tears welling again, and resolved not to cry around Jesse, the younger boy’s complexion unearthly, his eyes hollow pits.
         “C’mere Jess,” Jack whispered, holding out his arms in the dark. The small boy crawled out from under the sheets, tumbling to the floor to climb into Jack’s arms. It took a mere second before the child had begun to writhe and cry against Jack; it made Jack want to cry all the harder. He missed Jill already.
         Tears filled the sour quiet of the dark for a time, until Jesse was reduced to wet hiccups and noisy sniffles. It seemed the world had passed them by, the hours twitching and skirting away like some ragged dance.
         Morning light had capped the horizon before Jesse spoke at last.
         “What happened Jack? Why did this happen to Jill?”
         “I don’t know. It all seemed fine, we were happy and were singing and then I felt this sharp pain in my head and lost my balance. You know how long and steep that hill is?” Jack whispered.
         “Yeah. ‘Course.”
         “Well, I was just spinning and falling forever, and then I think I might have blacked out for a second or two, because the next thing I knew I was laying on the ground and Jill was not far off.”
         “What kinda sharp pain Jack? Think the same thing happened to Jill?”
         “I dunno. I ‘spose.”
         “Think somebody did that to you guys?”
         “I thought we were alone. We were alone on that hill, I’m sure.” Jesse’s little mind seemed to be analyzing the information, brow cocked into a curious position.
         “How’d you explain your head then, Jack?”
         “That’s a good question…” The boy’s mouth twisted into a grimace again, puzzling out a scenario neither understood.
         “Hey Jack, I think it was that Harper kid. Remember how he singed Sugar’s tail with his lighter last summer. I bet it was him, playing nasty games.”
         “But I didn’t see anyone out there with us Jesse!”
         “Don’t  mean there wasn’t.”
         “What’s that ‘spose to mean?” Jesse gave a nonchalant shrug. The two fell into silence again, the light coming in through the windows in a yellowy sheen.
         Words posed on the tip of Jack’s tongue, his mind whirling and twisting. Something seemed so wrong about this all… “Why would anyone want to murder Jill? Jesse, I feel like I’m missing something important, something that would tell me why this has happened?”
         “I don’t know brother.”
         “Daddy and Jill had been fighting quite a bit though. And me too. You think…?”
         “What are you saying Jack? You think Daddy killed Jill?” The small boy’s voice shook with fright.
         “I don’t know! But it’s just as silly an idea as Harper. Both of ‘em are about the same size.”
         “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone out there Jack? Pinky promise?”
         “Yeah, yeah, ‘course I pinky promise!” The two wrapped tiny pinkies for an instant. “No one was out there but me and Jill.” Stillness caught the room again, and then Jesse seized as though he’d been set on fire, thrashing from Jack’s arms and stumbling to his feet in the widening light.
         “It was only you and Jill.” Jesse said quietly, not above a whisper, bridging on the edge of accusation. His dark eyes were cold and relentless, his cheeks puffy and red from crying.
         “Yeah, and?”
         “You killed Jill.” The younger boy began to back towards the door, pupils fixed invariably on Jack. His voice had seemed nothing, a hoarse whisper in the dark.
         “You killed Jill.” His voice grew strength. Jack could hardly comprehend what his brother was saying. Him, kill Jill? Never, he would rather die. Why was Jesse saying these things. Too late.
         “You killed Jill.” The boy continued to say, voice growing with each admonition. Fear trembled the small youth’s body, but it drove itself into Jack’s heart. His tongue was dry, mind too flabbergasted to react or speak at all. Now Jesse was opening the door, body still turned vehemently towards Jack.
         “You killed Jill.”
         “No. No I didn’t. Why are you saying these things?” Too late.
         “You killed Jill!” His cry was shrill and helpless in the rising dawn, a shriek as though he were dying himself. With the last syllable off his lips, the small boy turned and ran, towards the kitchen, towards their parents. Jack spent no time waiting to see what would happen next-- this was no game and Jesse was so thoroughly convinced maybe he’d get to Momma and Daddy before Jack even had a time to defend himself. He took off after his little brother, frightened to the bottom of his soul for a reason just beyond his fingertips. Into the kitchen he stumbled, just as Jesse was explaining in a spasm of word vomit.
         But it was too late; Jesse had said enough.
         Momma and Daddy were worn and tired. Jack could see it in their eyes. They had fallen asleep at the table, hand in hand, faces planted around an enormous assortment of alcohol. Their cheeks were splotchy and eyes red-rimmed, but Jesse had said enough.
         Daddy stood up from the table.
         “What is Jesse telling us boy?” Daddy was a large, hard man, the fierce kind that went on about Commies playing Russian roulette before the going got tough. At times a soft father, his eyes were all sharp needles and pins now, and it conjured a terror in Jack. His heart skipped beats, and for one terrible moment he was sure he was going to die.
         “I would never hurt Jill! I swear it! Jesse, I pinky promised you! Can’t take that back now.”
         “Jack,” his father’s voice gravel scrapping against the inside of the boy’s eardrums, “did you hurt your sister?”
         “No! I would never!” Jack gazed at the faces of his family, but there was nothing left to see of them. It was as though they had no life left, that they were zombies now, their daughter forever lost to them.
         “Boy I will kill you if you’ve dunnit. I’ll kill you myself.” The threat lingered in the air, Jack feeling himself succumb to tears and fright. How could he respond to this madness?
         “I’ll find who did this to her, to both of us. But it wasn’t me Daddy. I promise.”
         “Jack, you never were a good liar.”
         “Daddy…” his squeak falling away.
         The large man came at him, Jesse’s tiny cry piercing the morning, and then Jack was out the door, running for his life.
         The morning was cool, the grass damp with dew, the bright yellow light of dawn nearly blinding him as he darted across the field. His feet were bare, the weeds whipping at his skin. But the fear possessed him-- the knowledge his own father would kill him now for a crime he had not committed. Somewhere far off he heard the shout of his father, heard him fall back behind and away, the older man gasping for breath. Jack did not stop. Even when his lungs burned and his legs ached, he did not stop.
         Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, and at last Jack stumbled into the shadow of Black Maiden forest, a place he had always been forbidden from. It was a dark, threatening wood, even in the shimmer of the day, and Jack walked on, searching for a safe place. Exhausted, afraid, the boy settled upon a slender tree, stuck nonchalantly in the midst of a vine-riddled grove. Before he had a chance to think, he had fallen into darkness and sleep.

         Jill was smiling at him, skipping across the field. Her beautiful face, azure eyes, all intact. She motioned for Jack to follow her. They were climbing up the hill again. This time Jill had the pail in hand, and was humming softly to the whistle of the wind.
         “This isn’t real Jill. You’re dead. Someone killed you.” Jill stopped her skip, and turned to face him directly. She was nodding at him. A tendril of blood curled down her lip…
         She held the pail aloft at him.

         Dogs were barking. Jack awakened with a start. He was cold, colder than he ever remembered being in his life before now. And it was dark, very dark.
         Squished against a small tree, he recalled his dream: Jill and the pail. He must return to the spot. Without thinking he rose from the ground, bare feet numb and painful. The night was starless, until he realized he was in Black Maiden forest, the wood fueling his fear. The fierce cries of the hunting dogs echoed in the night, and Jack knew his father and the others were looking for him. They were looking for the kid that had killed a little girl-- wrong person.
         Jack began to run.
         Stumbling through brush and weed, without stars to guide him, Jack was lost before his first step. Branches and needles tug and tore at his skin and clothes. He felt eyes upon his back at every turn, the howl of the hunting dogs seeming to expand and explode in the empty night. Jack could not even hear the chirp of crickets, or the hoot of owls. The world had fallen silent, looking for him. The urge to cry blossomed in Jack’s throat, making his sight blurry, almost sending him to the ground a number of times, a miscellaneous root here or there the lonely culprit.
         Jack lost track of time. He ran blindly, on, on, the dogs everywhere around him. Jack did not know how long he ran, or how far, only that he must keep running, he must get to where Jill had fallen, slain.
         And then he was out, out of Black Maiden forest, the fields in front of him again, the hill and the well awkwardly illuminated by stars that filled the night. His lungs felt ready to burst, but Jack refused his body to stop. Jill. I must avenge her.
         The dogs were dull in the distance when Jack at last clambered to the top of the hill, the well an eerie phantom in the dark. Jack’s eyes peeled down the slope, hunting for the site of Jill’s fall. He could barely make out the yellow tape the cops had laid out, but the slight sheen was enough. Jack nearly tumbled down the hill for the last time in his haste.
         Jill’s body was long gone, but it wasn’t the body he searched for. Something in the dream, the dream-Jill had pointed out to him. The dream-pail had seemed foreign to him; he hadn’t seen the pail in a long time. He knew that Jill had to have fallen with it, the pail clutched so tightly in her grip before he turned away and fell that it must have come down rolling too. But where was the pail? Where was it…?
         In the muddled memories of the day before, Jack recalled something, suddenly. There had been plenty of well water to drink from after Jill’s death. Jack hadn’t taken it. Jesse had been slurping on a glass of water when Jack had reached the house…
         “Hi Jack.”
         A chill, a shudder, wrinkled Jack’s spine at the sound of Jesse’s voice behind him. Jack turned to face his little brother. The boy was only a few feet away, grinning.
         “You killed Jill…” Jesse continued to smile.
         “Why did you kill her Jesse?”
         Starlight twinkled in the boy’s eyes. “Momma and Daddy loved their twins. So very much they loved them. Never paid attention to the little red head, he wasn’t perfect, wasn’t a twin.”
         “Of course they love you too Jesse. We all love you. Stop saying crazy things. You killed Jill because of this?”
         “And now it’s your turn Jacky. I’ll make sure you looked like you fell down the hill one last time.” A malicious glare held the boy’s face, and in those eyes Jack did not see his brother. He saw a monster.
         “How did you do it Jess? No one was up here.” Distract him. Make him forget. Maybe the dogs will come. Better they find me now than this.
         “I was hiding behind the well, stupid. Jill saw me, but shushed her, pretended it was a game, that I was going to surprise you Jack. Well… surprise.” Too late. The tiny boy rushed at Jack, hands twisted into claws, teeth bared like a cat. The impact sounded in the night, Jack falling on his back, the air crushed from his lungs. He tried to hold his brother back, but the small boy ripped at his ears and hair. With unbelievable force, the child rammed Jack’s skull into the ground. Once… twice… three times. Colors and light filled Jack’s vision. And then nothing. Four… five… six… seven…
         Jesse ceased. Blood filled the hollow that had once been Jack’s head. Content, Jesse rose from his brother’s chilling body, glanced cheerfully at the spot where Jill had lain, and began the return home. He was suppose to be in his bed, after all.
         Softly, the night wind grabbing his voice, Jesse sang:
“Jack and Jill ran up the hill to fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.
Up got Jack and home did trot,
As fast as he could caper,
And went to bed to mend his head
With vinegar and brown paper.
Jack and Jill ran up the hill to fetch a pail of water.
Both cracked their head,
And now their dead!
With no one left to save them.”