Autumn is upon us. The air is drafty as death.
Your insides chill with every breath.
There is a story that is not so told,
About the light in pumpkins, a story quite old.

You might know this tale or so you think,
This bard has my own version, try to sync.
A long time ago a few centuries or two,
There was a person named Jack, who knew.

This Jack was not what they seem.
They didn’t quite play well with a team.
They lied, cheated, mocked, and did steal.
The sin not committed was a cold-blooded kill.

Their reputation was dripping with blight.
That was until Jack was visited in the night.
“You’ve wronged one too many. I’m here to collect.”
Jack replied to the shadow. “How about a bet?”

The shadow was poised and full of tact.
“The results shall fall on the man named Jack.”
Jack grinned as a plan was surmised.
Win or lose, Jack would get the prize.

The game wanted was one of disguise.
The situation Jack was skilled, no surprise.
However, where Jack went so did the shadow go.
Jack’s face, the neighbors did not know,

Yet the shadow was right behind,
Keeping pace without a mind.
Jack tried to trap the shadow in a tree.
Etching a cross so the adversary couldn’t flee.

Without a flinch, the shadow jumped with a hop.
Round one did end with Jack as the flop.
Round two was to forage for many a treat.
Jack went to the forest for fruit and meat.

The shadow went to houses and howled at doors.
Jack had quality but the shadow had more.
The final round was in spooks and fright.
Screams filled the air all through the night.

At dawn, the sun’s light, and the sky did break.
The loser the winner would take.
Jack laughed claiming they had won.
The shadow disagreed recalling what was done.

“The results shall fall on the man named Jack.”
Costumes off certain features that man did lack.
The name was short and revealed as Jackeline
The mortal was of the female kin.

The shadow revealed the truth as well.
Man to them was species, not a woman or male.
The shadow was no devil, but Hallow itself.
The Reaper, Death, the end of mortal health.

Since the night the Spector spent in glee
Instead of collecting, Jack was set free.
Not just for that night but to her regret.
Jack was cursed, no more mortal debt.

To this day on the night of All Hallow’s Eve
A candle is lit to all those who believe,
To mock the now immortal that challenged Death’s win,
Of all the skills and none the master, was Jackeline.