A Little Jack Tale

/ Liz H-H
Spooky Moon

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His hands are tiny, true enough, but they’re as long and strong as needed to get the job done; it’s just past midnight, and Sylvia would be fast asleep and curled snug against Lorelai’s backside, thus no one to foil his plan.

At least he hoped so, because Maigret and the wee ones were hungry now and the feast Dame Lorelai had provided for the rest of her family was placed on the sideboard under crockery and festive cloths, to be processed further and consumed by the horde that would descend on her cottage once the sun had risen.

The cheese stands alone.

But it is as round as the full moon shining through the kitchen window and encased in thick yellow wax, and as clever as his hands are—as sharp his teeth, as strong his jaw—it would take a knife twice his size and thrice his weight to slice it open…except his sharp nose suggested a different story, a tale of sharp, creamy fragrance, of richness scooped from that bowl that sat in front and near the moon-cheese, topped by a festive waxed gingham loosely bound around by a thin cord he could easily chew through.

To feed his family, Jack would have to be a clever mouse and nimbly change his plan; running his quick paws through his whiskers and twitching his tail, he dropped down from the mousehole near the ceiling, and landing with a light bounce he commenced to nibble.

Gleaming eyes lit up over the top of the wheel of cheese, and a large fluffy tale snapped static in the night kitchen as a feline voice growled, “Nibble nibble Little Mouse, who is that nibbling on my Mistress’ house?”

(The End)

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2026)

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