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Dear Diary,
It’s me, Jessica.
The harvest has “come in,” as Billy would say.
With the onset of fall, the leaves have changed into vibrant reds, yellows, and golds. There was a crispness to the air, especially in the morning. The sky seemed a little bluer.
Sean, as mayor of Four Corners, announced a festival to be held. It would be a crazy mix of Oktoberfest, a Gaelic festival called Samhain, Day of the Dead, and Halloween. Sean emphasized he wanted children to dress up if they could and to go “Trick or treating.” He said he thought they should have some joy and excitement to look forward to. And to not lose some of our traditions, honor those who have passed in the past year, and of the harvest coming in.
Rae, Kathy, Joan, Allison, and I were going to the festival as “zombies.” Allison had a talent for makeup and did us all up as the Walking Dead. Rae said it was so good we looked like a music video called “Thriller.”
Diary, I had never heard or seen it.
Mom and Dad went as Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein. With Allison’s work, they looked dang good!
The Miller’s arrived driving the flatbed loaded with sacks of ground wheat, corn, Jack and Samson, and five kegs on the flatbed. Mr. Miller was dressed as the Tin Man. The children were characters from a few different cartoon movies. On horseback, Mrs. Miller was the Wicked Witch of the West, Billy the Scarecrow, Justin the Lion, and Janet was Dorothy.
We walked up, and I asked Jack what he was supposed to be in his usual attire.
“I am a survivor of a post-power-down world. And Samson is dressed as a post power-down world dog. His costume is rather good, don’t you think?” he said and patted the big dog on one side.
I rolled my eyes, Rae said, “Chicken and biscuits, Jack! Could you not of not dressed up for the kids?”
“Not my style. Not even as a kid, I did not do Halloween,” he shrugged.
“Jack, sometimes you are as much fun as a cold, wet towel on a winter day,” Rae said and gave him a punch on the shoulder.
“Ouch,” Jack faked and pretended to roll to one side. I gave Samson a scratch of his ears as he leaned into me with his big head and gave a big sigh of comfort.
“Where are the puppies,” I asked Jack.
“I fed them early. With full bellies they are napping in a dog pile on the couch. Didn’t want them underfoot at the festival.
I nodded. That made sense.
We all climbed up onto the flat bed and headed out for Four Corners.
Entry two.
Just outside of the East gate, they set up paddocks for the livestock. Sheep, goats, hogs, chickens, and cattle were staged for slaughter. Another area was set up for processing.
There were pumpkins everywhere around Four Corners. Some traditional carvings. Others, ornate carvings like cats, ghosts, witches on broomsticks. Others with outrageous and silly expressions. They were so good that Sean immediately set up a Blue Ribbon set of judges to award ribbons to the best-in-show pumpkins.
There was a big bonfire across from Sean’s shack. Sean was sitting on a wood log, strumming his banjo.
Mr. Miller brought cured and smoked bacon. He took the bacon to a few different cooking fires for them to make use for whatever they were making. There were stews, pot pies, someone was making hamburgers and would add the bacon to the top. A whole hog roasting over a pit of red coals. Skewers of all kinds. Apple pies and, of course, pumpkin pies.
Jack had three kegs of beer and two of blackberry wine. He set up next to Sean’s shack as Sean strummed his banjo. Jack tapped a keg of beer and one of the blackberry wine. He poured one for Sean, one for Rae, and then one for himself. Dad declined, but Mom had a wine. Mr. Miller and Justin took a beer each. Someone else had made hard cider, and others had mulled cider warming in pots.
Others gathered around for a drink or to chat. As the afternoon sun began to sink in the west, Sean announced it was time for the children’s Trick or Treat. All the kids were ten years of age and younger. Many of the older ones did not feel it was their place to participate. They did not want to take any treats from the children. Besides, there would be leftovers.
Everyone spread out along Old River Road to the North and South, set up in their own space to let the children come to them, let them say the traditional “Trick or treat!” in their sing-songy voices. Everyone would comment on how great their costumes were and then drop whatever they had to give into everything from plastic orange pumpkins to old pillowcases, and one pair of children had small wooden buckets with really neat carvings of toothy-grin pumpkins.
Mom, Dad, and I still had snack-sized candy to hand out.
Rae made mini-loaves of a German bread called Stollen. It was a rich mix of dried fruit, raisins, honey, cinnamon, and slivered almonds. They were big enough to make for a hearty breakfast or a snack for two. She told the children and their parents after trick or treat, she would be having story time by the bonfire.
Once the children had made their rounds, the children, their parents, and more than a few who did not have children gathered around the bonfire. Rae stood on a log with the bonfire behind her and began to tell a story about a magical pumpkin patch.
“In that patch was a strange being. Tall and skinny, whose body was made out of a skeleton and straw.”
Rae held out her hands claw-like.
“It had a long black coat, black pants, and black boots. And a pumpkin for a head!”
Some of the children’s eyes went wide. Sean had quietly provided Rae with background music from his banjo, sounding menacing and playful at the same time. When Rae announced the strange being had a pumpkin for a head, he gave his banjo head a slap. All the children jumped, and some of the adults did, too. Even I did. A chuckle from the adults rolled through the crowd, but the children sat in rapt attention to Rae. Rae shot Sean a glance and nodded, and they both continued.
“On Halloween night, a young boy and girl went into the pumpkin patch to see if they could get a glimpse of this strange being. It was a full moon, clear sky, stars by the millions could be seen as far as the eye could see.”
Rae looked about the sky.
“The young boy and girl heard something from behind them. Then to their side. Then the other side.”
Rae glanced behind her. Then quickly to the left, then the right.
“Then, the strange being rose from the pumpkin patch to its full height right in front of them.”
Rae knelt down and slowly rose up.
“It towered over the young boy and girl. Scared, they hugged each other for comfort.”
Rae leaned forward, looked around at all the children, and in a slow, low, rumbling voice said,
“Have you been a good boy and a good girl?”
“Still scared, they nodded quickly,” which Rae simulated with eyes wide, which got laughs from the adults and a few of the children.
“The strange being then straightened, with one hand reached behind its back, and then pulled something out.”
Rae reached behind her back.
“It held its skeletal-like hand out to them with a nod.”
Rae held her hand in like a claw and reached out before her.
“Confused, the boy and girl held out their hands, and the strange being dropped candy into their hands.”
“Good boys and good girls are rewarded with candy,” Rae said again in the deep voice.
“Then, in a flash, it was gone.”
Rae flashed her hands out.
Many of the children clapped, a few wanted more, others had questions. All the adults applauded.
Sean played a light and friendly tune.
Dusk was quickly approaching. Despite the children’s protests, many of the adults took their children home to bed. Some would be back later to join in the festival themselves.
It was good to see the children in their costumes, smiling and laughing.
The festival began to wind down just short of midnight. Some had packed their belongings and headed for home. Those who lived in Four Corners made their way to their shelters.
Billy said they were going to hitch up the flatbed and saddle the horses and would be ready to go in ten or fifteen minutes.
Jack asked those who still remained around the bonfire to raise their drinks and take a moment to think of those we had lost over the past year. Only the sound of the fire could be heard as the moment of silence spread. After a moment, Sean raised his mug of beer and said simply,
“Cheers.”
Others responded.
“Salute,” Jack said.
A few said silent prayers.
A few minutes later, Billy returned. It was time to go home.
Entry three
Well, Diary, it appears I have come to the end of my first Composition book. I am somewhat shocked I filled the whole thing! We have come a long way since those first days. Our neighborhood. Four Corners. Even me.
What will the next year bring? I feel both optimistic and a sense of foreboding at the same time.
Diary, see you in the next notebook!
About 1stMarineJarHead
1stMarineJarHead is not only a former Marine, but also a former EMT-B, Wilderness EMT (courtesy of NOLS), and volunteer firefighter.
He currently resides in the great white (i.e. snowy) Northeast with his wife and dogs. He raises chickens, rabbits, goats, occasionally hogs, cows and sometimes ducks. He grows various veggies and has a weird fondness for rutabagas. He enjoys reading, writing, cooking from scratch, making charcuterie, target shooting, and is currently expanding his woodworking skills.
