Saturday, October 31, 2009

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

The working title of this one has been ‘Snacking on Children’ I know. FUN! Actually, a very funny movie inspired this one. I started this back in June or July. There isn’t an exact time frame but it’s been lying around in scribbles/notes on paper for sometime. I had hoped to delve into this one a little more, for now this is where it ends. The idea of snacking on children while everyone is snacking on candy for Halloween seemed appropriate. Well it's up early cause there's no time... Long day/night ahead! Happy Halloween! Enjoy! kisses. m.

“Eeny meeny miney mo, whose going to lose his middle toe? If he hollers let ‘em go… Eeny meeny miney mo...”

“Letting ‘em go! Now we won’t be doing any of that!” Quickly I react snatching at the hands of my dinner as it attempts to break free from the ties that bind. Before me, I’ve gathered up five ripe children, prime delicate morsels of flesh. It isn’t often that one gets such delicacies out here in the middle of the Smokey woods. Seldom do children wander past the warning scarecrows at the town borders. Walking right into the lair of the witch, these foolish boys did. Slowly I sharpen my blade as I walk the line. Of these small boys, which is the fattest? My piercing knife is almost ready to meet with human flesh and carve out small pieces that will soon become the feast and welcomed celebration at tonight’s dinner.

“Lawrence Michael, get in here immediately!” my mother scolded this morning as I made an attempt to leave the yard and join my friends. As I re-enter the house I get an earful alright, “I don’t want you causing trouble today! Behave yourselves. You boys find something productive to do! I think that old man Whitrick needs firewood. Go see him and offer to gather up some wood. Five boys should have no trouble with that task. The work will pass quickly enough, probably just in time for lunch!” I looked at her with irritation and roll my eyes disobediently. “Lawrence, please. You know I have my hands full with your little brother. Now scoot.”

Gathering wood for old man Whitrick was a laugh with the boys. But nonetheless it meant we could leave the boundaries of town without supervision for the better part of the morning. Unsupervised for a few hours without drawing too much attention, William, our typical ringleader of trouble, jumped at the opportunity to explore the Smokey woods. Seeking out dry wood definitely would provide us a believable excuse to travel well outside the designated safe regions in the woods.

Armed each with a cherry axe, the five of us boys set off into the mists of the morning to gather wood. William was the first to spring up an oak for show, and jump down to frighten Anthony. Ray and Benny are the smallest, meaning the least helpful, of the group and provide us with continued moments of shenanigans as they leap frog through the woods. Laughs lasted for over an hour, as we cut and gathered. Before long we had gathered and carried back 60% of our pull, ensuring enough time to explore the uninviting portion of the woods.

“Old black oak tree, this is an excellent marker! We’ll find our way back here and it’s a straight shot home after that,” shouts William.

After a brisk walk on an imaginary trail we came upon a clearing so bright and glowing that it appeared to be an illusion. As we enter there’s no trace of darkness. Not even shadows. The absence of fog or a dewy mist gives the impression of an otherworldly place. Quiet. Still. No movement. Too silent. Then nothing. One by one the boys are gone, until I’m standing alone in the clearing. Nothing. Who or What? In front of me. A woman. Gone. I can’t see or move. Blinded by the light and paralyzed in a silent empty place. Under a spell. No one ever thought there was really a witch out in the Smokey woods. As we had all assumed it was a myth circulated by generations of parents to persuade children not to leave the safe boundaries of the town limits. Not even I believed the possibility of a dark sorceress in the wild areas left unexplored.

Cool, calculated, methodical. I watch the witch as she paces before the five of us. The look in her eyes is that of a wild animal about to descend upon its prey. To devour entirely on our small bodies. By looks, she wasn’t what I would suppose a witch would appear to be. Before us stands madness disguised behind beauty. Pale white skin, crimson blood lips, and hair, black as the darkest midnight. Youthful in appearance, definitely a far cry from the old and gaunt hags described in the frightening bedtime stories. She pauses briefly and measures the sharpness of the blade. Upon examination, too dull. She returns to a steady pace, continuing to sharpen as she sizes us up. I’m the largest, but not portly, or quite stout. Will was next in size and a little thicker in the middle. But it’s Anthony she stops at.

Small little dishes these little boys are. Treats that are quite delicious fresh without the need for preparation. Decisions. I have been over this in my mind a dozen times as I watch them squirm before me. The largest will have to wait for dinner. He will be the entrée. The next in size will make an excellent appetizer. But the smaller two will have to be fattened up. The condition of the runts will need to improve, or I’ll just have to use them for scraps. Human hearts and organs are hard to come by and very expensive. Hmm? There is the middle one… expendable. I believe there is enough time for a snack.

Will looks at me and grabs at the ties on his hands. The witch snatches at him and scolds with a vicious howl, then resumes her pace. Time here is short and she’s getting wilder by the minute. Without warn she grabs a hold of Anthony and drags him to another room. In the other room, the screams of anguish spill over into the room. Will returns his attention to the ties on his hands with a ferocious speed of panic that proves ineffective. Our eyes lock as it’s the sound of losing battle. Our comrade’s cries grow intently louder and then immediately quiet as they stop. The deadly beauty re-emerges with the stain of blood smeared across her white skin. Blood is dripping down her chin as she begins to walk the line before us once again…

“Eeny meeny miney mo, whose going to be the next to go? If he hollers gut em slow… Eeny meeny miney mo.”

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