Jack and the Beanstalk, Aftermath by Ngo Binh Anh Khoa

Jack headed back

to his home beneath the clouds,

gleeful with the looted treasures and

the feat of having felled a giant,

who was lying nearby,

his cracked skull dyed in a pool of red,

his lips moving but not making sense,

his eyes staring, dimming, unseeing,

and Jack, having ransacked

the other's abode, ran home to his mother,

uncaring of how the giant's breathing

gradually slowed to a stop,

unaware of how mere moments after

he left the chopped beanstalk and

the newly made crater behind,

the giant's wife up on the clouds

sat down beside her pans and pots,

wondering where her husband was,

her eyes misted by the steaming food

and the boiling thoughts underneath

her impatient facade.

Jack headed back,

humming to himself and

dreaming of a better life

where every luxury was within reach,

heedless of the echoes

of a lonesome lady's sighs

haunting the walls of a plundered home,

uncaring of how that same old lady–

who had shown him kindness

and hospitality–

began to pace around her quietened house,

wondering where the usual grumbling sounds

had disappeared to,

oblivious to the change in her status

from wife to widow

as she stared at the door that remained closed,

her hand unconsciously rubbing her chest,

the dread in her gaze unseen,

the worry in her sighs unheard,

and the pain in her heart unknown

to those laughing merrily beneath the idle clouds.

Ngo Binh Anh Khoa is a teacher of English in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. In his free time, he enjoys reading fiction and writing poetry for entertainment. His speculative poems have previously appeared in Eternal Haunted Summer, Spectral Realms, Weirdbook, Star*Line, and other venues.