Updated: Oct 11, 2019
Author: Nicole St. Onge
I sat outside the house, as I had been for several days now, reminiscing the time that I had spent silently hiding among the grass in a sprawling field. I remembered watching as they came, creatures in pairs and groups, sauntering along and stopping occasionally to pick up and observe my companions with eager eyes. If one was not satisfactory, he would be dropped back onto the ground carelessly, and the creatures would continue on, leaving us glad that we had survived another day. After a good time of evading the eye of the creatures and hoping that I wouldn’t be the one to be taken next, it was to my dismay that I was selected by a group of takers.
Upon my arrival to their small dwelling, I was set on a table beside a few of my new acquaintances. We were terrified and curious as to what our fates would be, and we didn’t have to wait long before we found out. The young lad on my right was chosen as the creatures’ first sacrifice, and the rest of us were forced to watch in horror as the proceedings ensued. A knife shifted into our view, and we were shocked as one of the creatures dug the blade crudely into the top of our poor friend’s head and began to cut around its perimeter. After the larger creature had separated one part from the bottom, several of its smaller offspring dug in, tearing out his innards and dropping them into a bowl with a sickening splat. Following the gutting of our poor companion, we found ourselves looking on and holding our breath as the larger creature stepped in once again, this time slicing a grotesque image into his front side as the younger ones cheered in sick excitement.
I watched as the horror continued on each time until finally, it was my turn to endure the carnage. I had heard of these acts of insidious destruction before and had nightmares about the subject; families being separated, children and their parents being forced to stomach the inevitable torture that would occur, all the while knowing that they would never see their loved ones again. I never once thought it would happen to me; I was so young - I didn’t deserve to have my once peaceful life in that field end in such a gruesome and untimely way!
I woke up in a daze and eventually became aware of the steady warmth that was burning inside me. I felt no pain, just the brisk wind of the fall that I had come to know and love on so many autumn nights. Then I heard voices emerge from several of the small creatures as they walked down a path beside their fellow traveler;
“Come on, Dad! Hurry up!”
“It’s time to go trick-or-treating!”
“The other kids will love our jack-o-lanterns when they come!”
Nicole St. Onge, Patricia Crandall's granddaughter, is a Senior Career Specialist for Liberal Arts & Sciences at SUNY New Paltz where she graduated with a Liberal Arts degree. Outside of work, she is an avid writer and major Taylor Swift fan.