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“Hey, Mister!”
Pitch jolted at the greeting and whirled around. A young teen with brown hair dangled upside down from a tree, munching on a bright red apple without a care in the world.
Pitch was taken aback by the human’s appearance. He was on the cusp of adulthood, yet still so clearly attached to his youth, it's a wonder how this boy could see him.
Jack took another bite of his apple, and despite his full mouth, decided to talk anyway. “I don’t recognize you. Did you come from out of town?”
The tall dark man shook his head and brushed himself off. “Something… like that. Though I find this small town… comforting, in some regard.”
It wasn’t a lie. Pitch’s lair had an entrance here, and there was a bounty of children to send his nightmares upon every night.
And despite the thrill of belief coursing through him from this boy, for once, he didn’t want to scare him. In his lonesome, he would pretend for the sake of some much needed social interaction.
“Have you been properly welcomed? Our town is so small and far from most places, we usually love to greet our guests with festivities.”
Pitch shook his head. “No, no. I’m in no mood for… interacting.”
“But you’re talking with me.” The boy said, taking another bite of his apple.
Pitch eyed him wearily. “And who might you be, young man?”
The boy flipped off his branch and landed on the ground beside the man. He held out a sticky hand and smiled. “Jackson Overland, sir. Welcome to Burgess!”
The boogieman sighed and took his hand, cringing at the apple juice that now stained his fingers.
Before Pitch could pull away, Jackson’s grip tightened and pulled the boogieman towards the Townsquare.
“Jackson, I don’t think this is a good idea-”
“It’ll be fine, don’t be such a drip, stranger! What’s your name anyway?”
“Pitch. Pitch Black. Really, Jackson, you shouldn’t-”
“Well come on Pitch, let me introduce you to everyone!”
~~~
Jackson was quiet. He was standing next to Pitch in the middle of the town. Some people were looking at him and whispering things. But Jack just stared ahead, unseeing.
Pitch felt a tad bit of pity for the boy. He could feel his fear stirring in his chest alongside indescribable emotions.
Jack had gone to almost everyone in the town, introducing the traveler to them, expecting Pitch to be welcomed with open arms.
But Jack was met with nothing but the question: “Who?”
When Jack finally found his mother, she cocked her head to the side and shook her head, thinking this was another one of her son’s pranks.
“Very funny, Jack. There’s nobody there.”
The words sent chills up the boy’s spine. He held on to Pitch’s hand and dragged him to the pond behind his house, away from the tiny little town.
He still held the man’s hand tightly in his grip. Was he really seeing things? There’s no way…
Pitch sighed and looked at the boy in pity. “It’s okay, Jack. This is not uncommon.”
Jack flinched at the voice. He finally let go of Pitch’s hand and slumped to the ground, staring out at the lake.
“I’m turning 18 next year,” He whispered. “Dad hasn’t come back home. I don’t think he ever will, despite what my mom says. He’s probably even dead. That means I’ll be the man of the house next year.”
Pitch slid down, adjusting his robes to sit next to Jack and followed his gaze to the summer lake. The heat was more bearable under the shade and cool water breeze.
“I’ll be expected to marry. Families are already pushing their daughters at me at every turn, but I don’t want to settle down. I don’t want children. Not yet, at least. I already plow the fields and sell milk and eggs to the townspeople, I hardly have the time for anything else.”
Jack slumped and hid his head in his arms atop his tucked legs. “I have a sister, Mary. We are low on money, and the winters get harsh, especially if the harvest rots early from rain. I pretend everything is okay for her. I don’t want to worry mother with my thoughts and feelings either since she’ll be expecting me to step up soon.”
Pitch sat quietly beside him, merely listening as the boy read his own fears aloud.
“I can’t confide in anyone else. Sometimes I dream… of flying far away from here. And never coming back.”
“I thought you said this was a lovely town?” Pitch asked.
Jack looked over, his brow furrowed as he stared at Pitch with big brown eyes.
The boy smiled sadly. “Yeah. It is, it’s just…. I don’t want to grow up.” He proclaimed.
Pitch sighed and averted his eyes, staring at the pond.
“Why are you telling me this, Jack?”
“....I figured… it was only a matter of time until I snapped. Until I made an imaginary friend.”
Pitch felt his eye twitch. So that’s what was running through this boy’s head.
The boogieman was at the end of his ropes. The Guardians swept out everything under his feet. Everything he had built up for himself over the centuries of existence. Was this kid not a miracle, but a punishment?
The fact that this boy could believe, and yet still be on the cusp of adulthood… stuck somewhere between.
A lowly mortal peasant, not worth Pitch’s time. A lonely boy, hidden all that he fears under a bright smile.
Pitch sighed. Beggars can’t be choosers.
“I’m here, Jack.”
A stray tear rolled down the boy’s cheek. He sniffled and wiped it away.
Jack returned Pitch’s reassurance with a small smile. “Thank you.”
Pitch truly had nothing more to lose.
~~
Seasons passed, and Pitch was actually looking forward to his day to day life with the spirited mortal. As the young lad slept, the boogieman would make his rounds. Jack would sleep soundly as the rest of the town suffered disturbing nightmares. If the children weren’t allowed to play in the cold weather, Pitch would keep Jack company.
If Jack were busy reading to his dear sister, then Pitch would sit next to them and listen.
Jack would engage in conversation with Pitch often, even in public.
Most would usually ridicule him for it, or whisper behind his back. But now they kept to themselves. They knew the terrors they would face in the night should they badmouth the Overland boy.
The fears that held Jack’s heart in a death grip seemed to lessen ever so slightly whenever Pitch neared him. They became muddy, less vibrant. As though Pitch’s presence calmed him, washing away all his worry.
Some days they would hold hands and watch the sunset through the trees.
“Twilight truly is the best time of day.” Jack said.
Pitch would usually prefer the night, but sitting next to Jack and watching as the light met the darkness… he couldn’t help but agree.
~~
“Jack, I’m scared!”
“It’s okay, it’s okay! Don’t look down, just look at me.”
Pitch ran. He ran like he never had before. Jack and his sister were quaking with fear. Fearing for their lives.
The boogieman ran out into a clearing, to find Jack and his sister Mary at the pond that he and Jack had spent so much time together.
The man of darkness breathed a sigh of relief, but froze in his own terror when he heard the sound of ice crack.
“No…”
“Would I trick you?” Jack said, his voice soothing despite the situation.
“Yes! You always play tricks!” Mary’s voice quivered.
“Not- not this time. I promise, I promise-”
Pitch stood a few feet behind Mary on the embankment of the pond. His golden eyes met Jack’s, and he felt the boy’s fear eb, ever so slightly.
Jack smiled, snatching up a stick at his side and launched it forward- hooking it around his sister’s waist.
“You’ll be okay,” He whispered. He glanced at his sister, before his gaze focused on the figure standing behind his sister. He repeated the words.
Pitch’s eyes widened. Those words were meant for him.
“You’ll be okay without me.”
“No- NO!”
Jack’s sister was flung to the side into the embrace of safety.
The brunette haired boy spared one final glance at the man of darkness, and in his last moment smiled.
Pitch reached out, as though he could catch the boy in his arms; safe and sound.
But Jack fell right through, and plunged into darkness.
~~~
Pitch Black does not grieve. The boogieman does not cry for things that are mortal. Especially the young that die before their time.
His fists were not bruised. The black ooze on his face was not tears.
He had not sat on the shore of that pond for hours, cursing every god in his vocabulary.
He did not scream into the cold, cold night like Jack’s sister, pleading for Jack to return.
He did not try with all his might, sending his hordes of nightmares into the water in search of a body. He did not screech in furious agony as the sand merely dissipated, pulled down to the murky floor below- no longer in his control.
He did not beg for Jack’s return. He did not feel the pain in his chest at the loss of his one and only believer. Especially not when that boy looked at Pitch as though the child knew- as though Jack knew he wasn’t a figment of his imagination all along-
Pitch once more fell to his knees and wept. For the first time in centuries, the boogieman openly cried with no care to his dignity. The damn Guardians could jump him, and he wouldn’t even fight back. He had hit rock bottom. The moon shone down, and Pitch glared up at it.
“Well old friend,” He said, in a watery voice. “Do you find me that pathetic? Finally broke me down, have you? Well, have your victory while it lasts. I don’t need your disgusting pity.”
Pitch seemed to swirl with darkness, becoming one with it and disappeared into the night.
The moon waited silently after the boogieman’s disappearance until directing its attention to the pond.
It slowly reached in; its light penetrating the icy surface until it grabbed its target. And then it pulled.
A boy with white hair rose out of the pond, gasping for breath in the chilling winter air.
He was given a name and a staff with power, and nothing more.
He traveled to the town nearby, in search of answers. But no one could see him. He tried to comfort a crying woman and her young daughter, but they could not hear him.
He tried to shake some townsmen to get their attention, but they could not feel him.
Not knowing what else to do, he returned to his pond and waited.
It brought him comfort, this small place. It was all he ever knew. It should have been scary, waking up in a place he didn’t know. But something about it… was calming. Something told him he did know this place. It was his home. It was where he felt safe.
Something rustled in the bushes across from where he stood on his pond.
“Who’s there?!” He shouted, before remembering no one could hear him.
A man of darkness stepped out from behind a tree, his blazing-gold eyes wide in wonder.
“Jack?!” The man breathed, holding his hands to his heart.
The boy of frost stepped back, away from the man.
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
Those words struck Pitch like a spear.
And it was as though…. He lost Jackson Overland… all over again.
~
Fin