Entry # B5

“Unlucky”
By
Gretchen Steen

“The dew on my skin, lying under the predawn sky, I wait for the warming sun. It’s a beautiful day amongst my friends, the brisk air and sunshine. I do remember the brief saffron flower that shriveled and swiftly fell away. The open spaces have become cluttered and my family is growing ever faster.

Oh, not the evil crows again, to peck, scratch and devour. There must be something out there, to relieve this weary soul. My shiny curves and broad middle will surely please someone; but here, they will not find me.

Here he comes, machete in hand, I guess it’s time to go. Brush my bottom; my vine-like arms lay wasted. Off we go to the big, wide world, I’m so very happy! Now I see I’m not alone, ‘Hello Fritz and George and Manuel’. Off we go, on a bumpy ride, to where I’m still not certain.

One by one we’re carried away, and put in a disheveled heap. They come to probe and prod us, but we don’t utter a peep. Then up I go, oh joy I’m saved, away from that rowdy bunch.

A little boy named Tommy has taken me for his own. His sister Lil cried and sobbed until Fritz was taken too. ‘Hurry now, time is wasting’ I heard a voice chime behind me.

With that voice, a strange satisfaction did come. Quickly, and with precision, the scalpel does its deed. In and out, its blade-cuts repeated into my lustrous skin. I feel no pain only pleasure. I’m scraped and gouged, my insides are gone! How can I possibly go on?

One, two, three … the easy stuff was done, but now for the ragged, jagged number four. Oh, stop, please STOP!!! That tickled too much, you must be finished soon.

You stepped back and grinned; the children jump up and down, ‘Light it, please, PLEASE!’

I patiently sit and watch and wait, to see what’s in the offing. I feel inner warmth and smile with an unnatural, pleasing glow.

The spooks and hobgoblins came; the witches and fairies unparalleled. They passed and never took notice.

My inside is scorched, my eyes grow weary and my smile has dropped to a frown. My skin is dark and puckering, like that of ‘ole man Brown’.

Soon I’ll be cast aside as mere garbage; a stinking, rotten shell. But then, what did I truly expect … it always turns out the same … for us, the ‘Happy Unlucky Jack-O-Lanterns!’