Stingy Jack was a rude man.
He was dishonest, short-tempered, and regularly cursed at his neighbors, children, and anyone who dared bid him hello. To make matters worse, he was the first person to arrive at the pub and the last person to leave.
That is to say: Stingy Jack drank from sunup to sundown for as long as anyone could remember.
However, despite his foul mood and drunken demeanor, Stingy Jack was a clever man. When he was born, perhaps the stars aligned in his favor. Maybe it was nothing more than a case of dumb luck.
But you know what they say; everyone’s luck runs out eventually.
Even Jack’s.
It all started one evening when Jack was stumbling home from the pub. Now, he had been extra-terrible that day, more so than usual, and the Devil watched his antics with glee. The Devil knew that Stingy Jack’s health had been declining for years, and on that fateful day, death had finally caught up with him.
But when the Devil materialized in front of Jack, the man didn’t cower or beg for more time. Instead, he asked for one last drink.
The Devil was a drinking man himself, so the pair retraced Jack’s steps, and Satan ordered a round of drinks for all the patrons in the pub. Jack finished his beer, and as a final request, asked that the Devil pay for the tab by transforming himself into a coin.
Now, in case it’s not yet obvious, the Devil admired Jack. He applauded him when he yelled at strangers and when he purposely bumped the young lad clearing tables. When his tray crashed to the ground and sent shards of glass skittering over the floor, Jack and the Devil laughed and laughed.
So it’s no surprise that the Devil accepted Jack’s challenge with a smile. But as soon as he transformed into a coin, Jack grabbed the piece of gold and slipped it into his pocket.
“Aha!” said Jack. “If you’re so smart, how do you not know I carry a pentagram in my pocket?
“Remove the pentagram at once!” insisted the Devil.
“Never!” said Jack. “Unless, of course…”
“Anything!” said the Devil. “Name your price!”
“I’ll set you free, but only if you go away and not return for a decade.”
“It is done!” the Devil promised.
So Jack removed the pentagram, and true to his word, the Devil went home. He stayed in Hell for an entire decade, but on the anniversary of the tenth year, he left his throne and returned to earth.
When he materialized in front of Jack for the second time, the man didn’t try to hide or run away. Instead, he asked for one last meal.
The Devil (who was still enamored with Jack and his wicked ways despite their history) obliged. Jack requested an apple, and as luck would have it, there was a massive tree within arm’s length. It was dripping with scarlet apples, and within moments, the Devil shimmied up the trunk, reached past the tallest branch, and plucked the roundest, ripest apple.
Meanwhile, Jack used his knife to etch three pentagrams around the tree’s trunk, trapping the Devil once more.
“Aha!” said Jack. “If you’re so wise, how do you not know that apples are better left untouched?”
“Let me down!” the Devil raged.
“Never!” said Jack. “Unless, of course…”
“Name your price!” said the Devil. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“I’ll let you down, but only if you swear to keep me out of Hell for all eternity.”
The Devil sighed, but he had no choice. “It is done,” he said.
So Jack scratched out the three pentagrams, and the Devil slid down the trunk. True to his word, he flew back down to hell. Even though he still watched Jack’s antics from his fiery throne, he never returned to earth looking for him.
As the story goes, it would be Jack looking for the Devil.
Like I mentioned, Jack’s drinking had indeed caught up with him. After his body succumbed to the hell he’d put it through for so many years, his soul detached from its physical form.
And wouldn’t you know it? Jack wasn’t concerned that he was dead. But with no pub to drink in, no bed to rest in… where was he supposed to go?
Jack looked around for clues, but everything was dark and hazy. It was somehow both hot and cold at the same time. The wind screamed, and then it stilled. Jack was tired, confused, and beyond thirsty, but he had no choice. All he could do was walk, wait, and then walk some more. Occasionally he would see a glimmer of light, but the mysterious orb would dance away before he got close.
Eventually, Jack arrived at a massive gate covered in pearls and rainbow-colored feathers. The magnificent doors looked out of place compared to the dreary landscape, but Jack didn’t care. He kicked at the doors and slammed his fist into the pearls, crushing a few in the process. Jack swore and cried for what felt like days, but it was no use. The doors remained locked, and no saintly presence materialized to welcome him to the afterlife.
Now, Jack wasn’t a religious man, but he knew that if Heaven’s doors were off-limits, he’d be forced to take another route—through the gates of Hell.
The only problem was that Jack hadn’t thought about his old friend, the Devil, since their last incident in the apple tree.
But the Devil thought about Jack all the time.
And when Jack arrived at another pair of massive doors, these ones made from bone and thorn, the Devil was already waiting.
“Let me in!” said Jack. “I’m lost, tired, and I need a drink.”
The Devil smiled and wagged a finger.
“Ahh, no can do,” he said. “Have you forgotten what I promised?”
“To leave me alone!” said Jack. “So move aside and let me be on my way.”
But despite Jack’s lip, the Devil smelled fear.
“Besides,” said Jack, “If you don’t let me through these doors, where else am I supposed to go?”
The Devil shrugged, for he truly didn’t care. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice…well, there won’t be a thrice,” he said.
For once in his miserable life, Jack was speechless. He reached for the Devil, who tossed a tiny, glowing ember in his direction, followed by some parting words:
“Happy haunting.”
Then, with a flick of his wrist, the gates of bone and thorn swung open. The Devil passed through, leaving Jack alone, his only companion, a stingy piece of coal that threatened to extinguish at any moment.
Jack felt around in the dark looking for something, anything, and discovered a rotten turnip. He cut out the bad parts, hollowed out the middle, and rested the ember inside.
To this day, Jack wanders the shadow world. Only during Samhain does the haze lift, the ember glow, and Stingy Jack find his way back to the realm of the living.
They say his antics are worse now than before. He haunts his favorite pubs, apple orchards, and anyone who forgets to light their Jack-O’-Lanterns on All Hallows’ Eve.
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This retelling was inspired by and adapted from the Irish folktale, “Stingy Jack.”
