Happy Halloween!
When the leaves turned and began their slow deathly descent
to the ground, that is when they came.
Through the rolling mists and under the encompassing cover of night they
came. We knew not whence they came or
their purpose. We only knew to barricade
the doors with strong oaken boards and light the jack-o-lanterns. Those who failed to heed the warnings would
be drug from their homes with horrified wails of unearthly terror. Terrible talons and gnashing teeth would tear
at their flesh and rend it from bone while we listened on.
That is where the tradition began. Those who carved the pumpkins with ancient
runes and lit them with the fire of our ancestors were safe. For hundreds of years we had lived like
this. Beyond this one awful night we
lead ordinary, pleasant lives. But this
night always came. It always returned
like a bad dream, wrapping up the village in its brutal embrace.
In the week prior, we had carved our ancestral runes into
the pumpkin. It was something that
always brought the family together. It
had to, lest we be torn apart by our communal failure. As the sun set beyond the towering trees
bordering our quiet hamlet, we put the jack-o-lanterns in front of our door and
lit it with the hearth’s fire. They
glowed brightly in the night and bolstered our spirits. They had protected us for years and this year
would be no different.
When dusk had finally blanketed the countryside and the
final iron nails hammered into the boards covering the door, we huddled
together in the living room. Our faces
were fixed on the door in anticipation.
The glowing embers of the dying fire illuminated our cowering forms and
cast perverse shadows on the wall.
Outside we could hear the rustling of the dead leaves as
they danced in the chill wind. They
rattled like tiny bones as they blew across the rooftop. The normal sounds of the forest surrounding
our home had subsided before we had realized it. There was an ominous silence as I could see
my feelings of terror reflected in my family’s faces.
Through a crack in the heavy curtains covering the front
window, I could see the soft and reassuring glow of our jack-o-lantern. I closed my eyes for only a moment. When I opened them, the light was gone. My sister had seen the same event transpire
and I could hear her soft whimpering.
Father shushed her while keeping his wide pale eyes fixed on the
door. A light sheen of sweat covered his
brow and the back of his neck.
The silence was the worst.
The silence was the worst until an earth-shattering boom rattled the
door on its hinges. My sister screamed
as my mother wrapped her tightly in her arms.
My father stood abruptly and readied his rifle. With a stern look, a dark aura of
concentration came upon him. His eyes
never left the sights placed on our front door.
For all his preparation, it did us no good.
The heavy door began to shake violently as they beat their
bodies into it over and over. The nails
groaned against their housing in the oaken boards and I could hear
splintering. The tremors rang in my ears
as my sister’s wails accompanied them in a tumultuous torrent of sound. The embers had been all but extinguished by
now and that dreaded dark now permeated every inch of our home. I suppose it was for the best.
As their bodies continued to hammer the portal to our home,
their persistence finally paid off. The
door buckled and crashed onto the floor in a shower of splinters. Their horrible screams rang out with a
blood-curdling ferocity. My father only
got a shot off before they tore into him.
I closed my eyes like a coward. I
could feel my family’s warm blood splash against my face and suddenly…suddenly
I was cold.
I roam the barren halls of my family home now. Time has stopped its uncaring march
forward. I can only stare and scream in
silence as time wears my home into nothing.
There is nothing and no one to hear my terrified cries. My family is gone, torn violently from this
world, leaving me behind. And now I
slumber in this eternal darkness with no light to comfort me.
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