Jack and the Giant

Once upon a time, there was a mischievous little boy called Jack. One day, when the moon was low and the sun was up, a cock would crow and Jack would peek around the small room he shared with his poor mother, watching her steady breaths, ensuring she was asleep before slipping out from beneath the covers and silently trotting along the cold stones and into the kitchen. 

Jack was a growing boy, and he was hungry. Silently, he lit a lantern in the kitchen and went rummaging through the pantry. He ate bread and crackers with jam and a hunk of cheese. To quench his thirst, he drank the entire jug of milk. Finally, he blew out the lantern and crept back into bed. 

When his mother woke, she shrieked from the kitchen. “We’ve been robbed!” 

She cried into her handkerchief. The thief had left the pantry door open, crumbs along the floor, and the empty jug of milk on the bench. Jack's cheeks grew a rosy red, too ashamed to admit the intruder had been him. 

His mother prayed for a moment before coming to herself. “We will have to sell the cow.” 

“No, Mama, no! Not Maisey!” Jack begged. 

She only sighed. “It’s the only way we’ll get through winter.” 

His mother fetched his coat and waved at them from the front door, reminding Jack to sell Maisey for the highest price he could. 

Jack shuffled his feet through the mud as they walked to town. Maisey's head hung low as if she knew she was losing her friend too.

“It’s all my fault, Maisey, I ate all our food for the winter. Now we’ll starve!” Jack cried into Maisey’s thick fur, but dried his eyes before they reached the town. The town was bustling with people selling fruits and buying fabrics. As he walked, he began to shout, “Cow for sale! Cow for sale! Sweet milk daily!”

Soon enough, a man approached and offered two shillings. 

“Sorry, sir, this cow produces milk twice a day, is well trained, and is soft as a rug. She’s worth much more than two shillings,” Jack responded.

Next, a lady wearing a red fur scarf approached. “A rug, you say?” She looked the cow up and down and offered four shilling. Maisey’s legs stiffened at the lady’s words, her eyes widening with terror as she silently communicated her fear to Jack. Feeling sorry for his friend, he refused. 

“Sorry, ma’am, Maisey’s worth a lot more than just a rug.” 

After hours in the cold, Jack regretted not selling her for the four shillings and decided to sell her to the very next bidder.

Soon a tall man approached, complimenting Maisey’s warm coat. He saw that her swollen udders were full of milk and wanted to buy her right away.

“She’s all yours if you like her, sir,” Jack sighed, exhausted and ready to return home after a long day. “For the right price, of course.”

“Of course! For a cow this fine I’d only expect a fair price.” The man reached into his pocket and poured a handful of beans into Jack's palm. “A price beyond money. They’ll keep your belly round and your mother happy. Plant the largest one first, then one every other day until winter is over.” 

Jack turned the beans over in his hands. Some were small and round, others curved and green, some looked like garlic, and some were already sprouted. One was far larger than all the others and gleamed a golden hue. Intrigued, little Jack pocketed the beans and handed over Maisey. 

The tall man thanked Jack, who bounced home, eager to tell his mother about the riches he had secured for them. But when Jack got home to show her the beans, she scolded him for not taking shillings instead.

“You better hope those beans grow us a fruitful garden over winter,” she cried. 

That night, Jack buried the largest golden bean by his window then went to sleep hungry. The next morning, Jack woke to his mother screaming once again. There was a little girl standing at Jack's window right where he had buried the golden bean. She wore her hair in two plaits, with soil smeared all over her face and radishes clasped in her hands. Jack's mother quickly turned them into a stew for them all to eat. 

“Thanks for growing me,” the girl said. 

Jack had known the beans were magical but didn’t understand how another mouth to feed would help them get through winter. Not until he took the girl for a walk around their property and down to their old, dead orange tree. She placed her hands on the base of its trunk and green sprouted from its branches. Large ripe fruit hung low from its branches. The girl pulled a heart-shaped orange from the tree and handed it to Jack.  Quickly, Jack fashioned a bag from his shirt and piled in the fruit. The pair came home giggling and rolled the fruit onto the kitchen table. His mother kissed the fruit and hugged the children. 

When Jack offered the girl his bed for the night, she smiled sweetly. “No thank you, I much prefer the garden.”

The next morning, Jack woke up and looked out the window to find the girl was almost the size of his mother and still covered in dirt. 

“I’m Jill, by the way,” she smiled, spreading her lips and revealing her large teeth. Warmth crept into Jack’s cheeks as he took her hand in his. 

“I'm Jack.” 

She turned his name over in her mouth as his cheeks grew bright as plums, making her giggle.

That day, Jack planted some seeds in the garden by the old barn. Jill dug her hands into the ground and instantly a passion fruit vine climbed along the sides, sprouting fruit. Then they walked along an old garden patch, and together they filled the garden with fruit and greens, more than he’d seen in years. Jack's mother cried when they returned with their harvest and kissed them both on the cheek. That night, she braided Jill’s hair as if she was her own daughter.

Each day they continued, and each day Jill continued to grow. She grew taller and taller until she was almost the size of a giant.But eventually, winter came to an end. When Jack asked why Jill was so big, she explained that giants needed the soil of the earth to grow, and were sent down to grow throughout winter before returning home to their families. 

“Will I ever see you again?” Jack whispered, his small heart breaking.

“Tomorrow when the last seeds are planted, they’ll grow into a stalk so high I will use it to return home to the clouds,” she explained, “but once I’m up there, you must cut down the giant vine and find the seeds inside. At the start of next winter, plant the seeds and I will climb down the stalk to visit you again.”

The next morning, Jack, Jill, and his mother planted the last seeds. Jill held them in her palms — almost twice the size of their house now — and embraced them both. Jack held on tightly, shyly pressing a kiss onto Jill's cheek and making her giggle so loudly it carried in the wind and into nearby meadows.

Then, for the last time, she buried her hands into the ground. With a rumble, an enormous vine shot out and snatched Jill up, carrying her far into the clouds as if she was as light as a feather.

“See you next year, Jack,” she shouted down to him, her voice echoing. 

“See you next year, Jill,” he called back. 

When he could no longer see her, he took out his axe and cut down the beanstalk, collecting the seeds and storing them for next year, when he would see her again.