A Mother's Love - Springheeled Jack

January 1st, 2011 Oh my word that was fun! Let it be known that Jack is ready for action! I took myself out for a night on the town tonight, dear inanimate object that is a journal. Or should I perhaps say Dear Diary? No, that would be idiotic. It was absolutely frigid, but I barely felt it, not with the adrenaline coursing through my veins and my heart going like a hummingbird. Some girls had a New Year's Eve they'll never forget, let me tell you! I bounded down on the group of them while they were walking along a side street. Never have screams of fright sounded so sweet. A couple of the ones with sense took off towards the main road, probably to try to summon a constable. I didn't stick around long enough to find out. One though, a pretty little thing indeed, gave me one of the most picture-perfect deer-in-the-headlights looks I have ever seen. I couldn't help but laugh, but the laugh that came out, a guttural chortle, I've never laughed like that before. My evolution continues, it seems. But no, yes, there she stood, transfixed under the glow of my eyes. Never have I felt more powerful. I let her feel the graze of my metal fingers on her jaw, and I could feel her trembling even through the gloves. It's too bad I heard people coming back, or I would have tormented her a little more, just for fun. All fun must come to an end though, I suppose. I shoved her out of my way into a rubbish bin, it seemed appropriatefor her, and got away clean. Let the world welcome back Spring-Heeled Jack, Terror of London! Now, though, it is time for sleep. I'm still too keyed up though, I need something boring to put me out. Oh, I know! Mother's letter! So what if I'm over a year late getting to it? I've had more important things on my mind. Well, goodnight, carcasses of trees! I have read it. I never want to forget these words, so I will transcribe every last one of them here: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ My Dearest Johnathan, As I write these words, I am resigning myself to die. I am sorry, my son, but I am not strong enough to face this world any longer without my love by my side. I have done everything in my power to ensure you will want for nothing once I am gone. You shall be the last of the Nimbles, a family I was lucky enough to be a part of for a time, and I wish for you to make the name worthy of rememberance. I beg of you, though, my darling boy, be cautious. I have seen that accursed device you keep in the guest bedroom, and I had prayed you would be so much older and wiser before it came into your hands. Jacob was the same age when it came to him, so perhaps that is simply the way of it. I know that we always told you we met on a cruise in the Mediterranean, Johnathan, but now it is time that you learn the truth. I pray that it tempers the rage I have seen in your soul lately. As I said, your father received the contraption at approximately the same age you did, from his aunt Jillian. Jillian taught him all of her ways, the tips and tricks she had used with the machine. What's more, though, is that she taught him how to balance the power of the device with the responsibility to use it wisely. I learned of all this later, as I had not met Jacob at this point, or else I would write a novella for you about every minute detail she taught. I fear you need it. All I do know is that she advocated non-violence, in apparent opposition from the previous owners. Perhaps she had seen enough violence in her lifetime, having been born in one war and having later lived through another, or perhaps she was simply a more peaceful person. I would not claim to know her motives, as I only met her once before her funeral, but she was one of those people who command respect and awe just by their presence. I hope you meet a person like that someday, Johnathan, so that you know what I mean. However, I'm getting off topic. Oh, how my mind wanders these days! Perhapsit's a mercy. So your father received the contraption and received instruction in its use. But young men are headstrong and believe themselves invincible, so although he listened to his aunt, it did not slow him down much. He went on a terror spree throughout Europe, scaring and striking pedestrians, stealing whatever he wished, engaging in lecherous pranks in bathhouses, schools, and though he never admitted it to me, I have evidence for a convent or two. Still, he did keep the harm to a minimum. He was always the worst in France, and I'm of the firm believe that one of his acts there started the chain reaction that led to his death. There are always consequences, Johnathan, I beg you to remember that. However, at the time I met your father, I was in Spain with my family. Jacob told me he saw me in the market and decided that he had to have me, like one of the baubles he would steal so callously, so he followed me home. That night, I awoke to a thump, and there, having leapt through my open second-story window, was the most terrifying and inhuman creature I had ever seen. I was so frightened I could not move, couldn't make a sound. I could feel his glowing red eyes staring into my soul. I knew in my heart, then and there, that I was going to die. He stomped towards me, legs bent, breath ragged. He ran his fingers along my face, and it felt like he was dragging razorblades along my skin, though they were, in truth, dull enough to only leave light scratches. I was crying at this point, he told me, but I honestly remember nothing beyond those terrible eyes and the gut-wrenching horror I was feeling. I don't know what he would have done to me, if my father had not appeared at that time with his hunting rifle. He shot Jacob in the shoulderblade, and it hit with enough force to knock him back into my desk, knocking him out. Father wanted to put another round in him right then and there, but our family was already under suspicion from the police, so instead he tied him up. Mother and I tended his wound as best we could. The bone had deflected most of it, but I still am sad we did not get him to a hospital, since his shoulder always ached when it rained because of it. When he roused, my father began interrogating him. Jacob was savage, like an animal in a cage. He must have been borderline insane at that point, ranting in anger at one point and then laughing at "how feeble we were." How his tune changed when my father started taking off the apparatus. Jacob wailed like a banshee, begging and thrashing around. In the end, though, my father got it all off of him and left me to guard him in my room while he inspected it all. I swear, I have never seen a more broken man then your father sitting in that chair, sobbing like a baby. He wouldn't look at me, wouldn't talk to me. Any time I moved to change his bandages he'd try to shrink away from me. Time passed. As I'm sure you know, that device is complicated to understand, even with instructions, and my father had none. We lived a surreal life, keeping your father prisoner in my room, feeding him, healing him, my father dragging him to the bathroom whenever he needed to go. He spent a week in our care, until such time as my father gave up trying to understand the machine. He explained to Jacob that he would be let go, on the promise that he never come to Spain again and that he would be returned the apparatus to leave with. Jacob told us to keep it. He said that the week spent with us had been one of the most transformative of his life. The device had given him power, but we had given him clarity. He saw the destruction he had wrought, the senseless chaos he had wreaked. He said he wanted to live with consequences again. He wanted to be a part of the world, rather than simply have it as a toy. He wanted a family of his own, to feel deeper, more pure emotions than joy and rage. He wanted love, and peace, and sadness, and all the other emotions he had denied himself for so long. So he wanted us to keep the apparatus, and he would leave without it. We kept it. He didn't leave for a long time. That's how we truly met. Jacob used the suit again, of course, but only with purpose. You see, he was good at what he did, and my father had connections in the criminal world that needed someone like Jack. Over time, Jacob and my father built up quite a network of infomants, mostly in the police forces of Europe and the eastern United States, and so we always knew where they were weak and where we could strike for my father's connections. Jacob never hurt another soul as Jack. Even at his end, he preferred to face them as himself. I wish he could have been here to give you the device in person, my dear Johnathan, and that he hadn't been so angry and afraid when he wrote the note, so that you wouldn't have gotten the wrong idea. I will do my best to fill in the gaps. The guiding tenet of your great-aunt Jillian, and the point of view your father finally came around to, is that, yes, you and he are better than most people. More skilled, more capable, and that means you have a right to things that most do not. However, that right is tempered with a certain noblesse oblige. You are better, but it does not mean the rest are bad. You have a right to things, to take their possessions, but you do not have a right to take what they cannot live without. Nor do you have a right to harm them. By introducing them to hardships, you force them to fight. By forcing them to fight, you make them stronger. Banks got vaults only because someone stole from one. Bones get stronger fastest by breaking them repeatedly and letting them heal. It is at its purest in the old saying, "That which does not kill you makes you stronger." You, your father, your family? You are what does not kill them. I grow tired, Johnathan, so I will wrap this up. I do not expect to live out the week. I will go to see your father, secure in the knowledge that, if nothing else, you will be provided for. I have enclosed the list of informants your father used, but please, let my words reach you. Listen to your mother, one last time. I love you, my darling boy, and I loved your father as well. I shall love you for all time, no matter the path you choose or what obstacles you face. Do not lose yourself to the beast that that device conjures up. As your father said, make your mark on the world, but have a care what that mark may be. Your loving mother, Eva   I have been a fool. Thank you mother, for showing me the light one more time. I have a purpose once more, and I have work to do.