It isn't until the rains of spring and the occasional frosts mend away, that the young ones begin to sprout and come into the world. Taking in the wonders of this life the way only a newborn can; with curious minds they stretch and reach and feel the different parts of the earth. The soil in the gardens, the soothing water that pours from the sky and the bright sunshine all welcome the young to their new lives.
Our community is a large one. Its residence come in all shapes and sizes, never hesitating in offering companionship or words of wisdom. It isn't until the mild summer days of around late August or early September that the community is in full bloom. It is a wondrous and awe inspiring spectacle to see. The little ones gather together and laugh and play in the way that only young ones can. The older, more mature, gather in groups as well; speaking of the weather and other topics of small talk.
The jovial tidings and communal merriment are plentiful in the short warm months, but as crisp fall winds whisper in the evening, a tendril of fear dances through the minds of the elders. Those who've experienced this seasonal change more than once become more recluse as the chill of autumn paints the leaves and some mornings are greeted with a light chilled dew. They know what this time of year brings and they wish they had the power to change fate but they know that their futures and the futures of their kin are dawning.
It seems to happen overnight; one minute everything is fine and everyone is enjoying their daily water and bright sunshine and the next the tall ones begin to arrive.
They are large clumsy creatures that stomp through the rows of us who haven't already been taken.
That's what they do.
They come around in packs of two or greater and snatch both young and old away from their loved ones.
I've seen it before.
It happens every year around this time but there is nothing we can do to prevent it. We are defenseless against these monsters.
I've been here for years and have been fortunate enough to survive this horror without being taken. But I fear my luck has run out.
One of them spots me. On clumsy appendages it stalks towards me, trudging through all that remains of my brothers and sisters as it approaches. It bends over and lifts me into the air, I want to scream but I can't.
I'm frozen in fear.
It takes me to a large building. The white one that resides on a hill that overlooks the place I came to know as home. Its lair, I assume, as it takes me inside. I've never seen any place like it. It is very different from where I am from. You can't see the grass or the trees or even the sky for that matter. It's dark and it's terrifying.
The thing places me on a cold flat surface before walking away. I want to flee, I want to cry out, I want to fight for my life but I can't, I'm paralyzed. I glance at the entryway where the tall one had brought me through. My mind plays with the idea of a speedy escape, but I have seen how these things move, there's no way I could get off this surface without it knowing. Dread and hopelessness replace my thoughts of escape. I want to sob but the horror of everything prevents me from even that.
It's back in a short amount of time with tools I've never seen before. They are silver in color and look sharp.
The creature takes one of the instruments, one that doesn’t appear dangerous and applies it to the surface of my face.
The object leaves a dark trail. It's drawing on me.
I stay stalk still in both fear and confusion. Soon it seems finished because it put the tool down and picks up another; clearly a blade, one that I have never seen the likes of before.
It lifts the blade up and in a swift motion plunges it into the top of my head. I want to scream, to shriek, to beg it to stop but nothing comes out.
Soon the sharp edge goes around full circle before the tall creature pulls the blade out. It places the menacing tool beside me and I hope it's over.
The creature grabs the top of my head and pulls as hard as it can. The sounds of my insides tearing are louder than any scream I try to produce. This pain is something I can't describe with words. I can feel my own insides ripping apart in my head. The beast then begins clawing and scratching until there's nothing left but a husk, an empty shell but I'm still alive.
How am I still alive through all this? Why is this happening?
I hardly have time to process my own thoughts before I see the blade moving in front of me.
Again I want nothing more than to cry, to blubber incoherently for it to end this, to plead for mercy, but even if my tattered thoughts could be pieced back together, I doubt the monsterwould stop.
The blade sings as it's brought closer to my face and before long it's cutting through me again. The edge is so sharp that I don't feel the pain at first. Just a pressure as the creature moves the object through me. If anyone could hear my screams I know that they would hear nothing but anguish. I'm powerless against this monster and can do nothing but lie here like a sack as it does as it pleases, a feeble husk at the mercy of a monster. It's as if the blade is a paintbrush and my face its chosen canvas.
My thoughts are staggered now and I can barely see straight let alone think. I have no idea how long the clumsy beast has spent carving into my face but it feels like an eternity.
I can feel the life draining from my very being. Death would be a welcome change to the horrors of this nightmare.
But this is the life I was given. The life that, for whatever cruel and unfathomable reason, was thrust upon me. Me and my kind alike, since the time Pagans danced around fires in hopes of a plentiful harvest the night of Al Hallows Eve.
They take us from our homes; they force us through a labyrinth of unending torment, they carve into our flesh. Once they've deemed their work with us done; they force a candle inside our head, place us on their front porch… And name us Jack.