WEBVTT

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The Church Factor, written by Neoma
Finn. I used to love going to

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all those silly little festivals held in
small towns and villages throughout the countryside,

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you know the ones. They're nearly
always named after a fruit or a vegetable

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that grows in that part of the
world. They consist of contests themed after

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the said fruit or vegetable, and
food is baked with the same fruit or

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vegetable as the main ingredient. A
few of them might be named after a

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flower or an animal, but they
all involve the same types of activities,

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and they almost always culminate in a
street dance. And I love those darn

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things. I'd get off work on
Friday night and drive halfway across the country.

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If I had to, I'd spend
the night nearby and dot to be

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the first one to arrive the next
morning. They were a piece of Americana

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that doesn't exist anymore, the epitome
of wholesomeness and honor. And I loved

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them right up until the last one
I went to. I was in my

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twenties back then and a bit reckless. It never occurred to me to tell

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anyone where I was going or when
I would return. Nor did it ever

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cross my mind to ask anyone to
come with me. I can't count the

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times when I'd be watching a bunch
of kids race each other on pedal tractors,

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or a group of adults with their
hands tied behind their backs and their

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faces planted in plates of blueberry pie, and I think, you know,

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so and so would have really loved
this, But by then I was there

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and it was too late to ask. I would have given my right arm

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if I had only asked a friend
to go with me to this last festival.

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It was October, my favorite month
of the year. In fact,

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it was my favorite day of the
year, October twenty first. I had

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read somewhere about a pumpkin festival in
a small town miles from anywhere that hosted

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the most amazing jack o lantern carvings
anyone had ever seen. All day long.

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Aside from the traditional vendors and events
that can be found at all of

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these types of festivals, people were
invited to carve pumpkins alongside the villagers.

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Those who visited were always amateurs compared
to the natives, but they were allowed

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to enter their jack o' lanterns in
the parade that always took place after sunset.

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At that point, the car pumpkins
would always be placed on hay racks

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pulled by Clydesdale's and Belgians, and
everyone would get to see the artwork.

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There would be the normal array of
costumed participants who threw candy out to the

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children, along with a variety of
floats decorated to celebrate Halloween, which would

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be celebrated in Earnest less than a
fortnight later. Meanwhile, pumpkin pies and

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pumpkin butter, and pumpkin bars and
pumpkin anything else would be served from the

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booths, alongside apple cider, apple
pies, apple crisps, and caramel apples.

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Sounded like heaven to me. I
was surprised by how remote albert Landing

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was. We were in the last
decades of the twentieth century by then,

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and most towns were either easily accessible
via the interstate or at the very least

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a main highway, or they had
become ghost towns. Neither was the case

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here. I had to find a
county road that wasn't clearly marked and then

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turned down a one lane, unmarked
blacktop. It took me four miles through

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winding hillsides before it came to a
covered bridge, and even though I had

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left my hotel early, I didn't
arrive until nearly ten am that day.

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I had to park my truck in
a field and walk across the bridge.

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No doubt my truck would have made
it through the bridge anyway, but a

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friendly man sitting in a long chair
by the road stopped me and let me

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know that there would be no place
to park after I crossed the river.

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Well, I didn't mind. The
bridge looked like something out of a postcard,

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and the river that flowed under it
was almost magical. It was like

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walking into a Disney movie. The
bridge was nothing short of a portal to

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another world. The citizens of Alberth
Landing were awfully vested in their festival.

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Most of them, or maybe even
all of them, were dressed in colonial

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American clothing, and each of the
houses along the street had the appearance of

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being well over two hundred years old. A woman was standing in the sideyard

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of the first house I came to, casting grain to her Rhode Island red

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hens, and they were pecking at
it hungrily. Another woman was sitting on

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her porch churning butter in an old, old fashioned butter churn, and the

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next property had an open sided shd
where a man was practicing the art of

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blacksmithing. The main part of town
was positioned in the crook of the river,

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so that as the road I was
walking on turned and became main street,

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it was taking me right to the
river bank. Ahead of me,

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I could see a park where booths
were set up to sell handmade and home

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baked items. Although I was certain
I was on the main street, it

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was nothing to indicate a business district
outside of four buildings where the road I

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was walking cross the only other road
that didn't look like a cow path.

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The four buildings that stood on the
four street corners struck me as odd.

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The first business was the post office. Despite being housed in a building that

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looked like it had stood since long
before Paul Revere took up horseback riding,

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it had all the modern day signage
of the United States Postal Service in the

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windows. The signs looked out of
place, but not nearly as inappropriate as

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the gas station across the road from
it. The glass front and store windows

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full of signs advertising lottery, tickets
and slurpees felt like a time traveler sent

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back from the future to warn the
world of the hideous fate that awaited us.

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Opposite the post office, the caddy
corner from the gas station, was

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the only one of four buildings that
appeared to fit in It was a tavern.

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Other than the paps blue ribbon sign
in the front window that struggled to

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stay lit. It could have been
an old inn, with bar maids wearing

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dust caps and patrons slashing down tankards
of ale while they waited for fresh team

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of horses to be hitched to their
coach. There was a certain comfort in

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that building, even with the flickering
light. It felt as rooted as the

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oak trees that bordered the park ahead
of me, And somehow the thought that

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it felt natural made me feel unnatural, as if I didn't belong there.

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A voice from somewhere deep inside me
whispered that I should turn around and leave.

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And since that day, whenever that
voice has spoken, no matter how

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quietly, I have listened and obeyed. But this day, however, I

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did not. It was the fourth
and final structure at that intersection that was

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the most bizarre, because little festivals
like this one, put on by small

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towns everywhere, had been a passion
of mine for several years. I had

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seen my share of out of the
way places like snowflakes. No two towns

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are exactly alike. It can feel
like they are at times, but there

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is always something that will set each
one apart. It may be a flea

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market housed in an old gas station, or a specialty store where the town

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creative types make leather goods while the
locals watch. Or maybe it's a house

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on a hilltop or the founders once
lived, or a local cafe that serves

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a certain dish unmatched anywhere else.
Or wherever it is, there is always

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something Likewise, there is one thing
that every town of certain size has in

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common with every other town of that
size. More appropriately, there are four

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things. While the typical blink and
you'll miss it wide spot in the highway

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will certainly have only one or two
of these. Any town large enough to

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form more than a few city blocks
will have a post office, at least

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one gas station, one tavern,
and one church, and many towns like

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this one will have all four at
the same intersection. But where a church

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should have stood in this town was
a big red barn. It was in

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immaculate condition. Not one board was
out of place. It had a fresh

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coat of paint with a gleaming white
trim, and the front consisted of a

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ground level set of doors that slid
open along the wide metal track, directly

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under the set of loft doors,
over which a pulley for bringing up the

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hay that would surely be stored.
There. Between the loft doors and the

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pulley was a gorgeously painted Amish heck
sign in brilliant greens, blues and golds.

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Along the side that was visible to
me were square windows that were closed

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off by hen shutters marked with a
white trimmed axe pattern. The barn could

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have come straight out of a children's
book. Despite its natural beauty, its

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location in the middle of town,
right where I had expected a church to

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be was a bit unsettling. That
there was a rope draped across the front

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doors with a sign that said no
admittance didn't help. I made my way

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down to the park. I passed
a man who was standing in front of

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a massive iron kettle making kettle corn, and whose wife was busy scooping the

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finished product into bags and labeling them. A woman was carting wool a few

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doors down in front of a yard
full of tables loaded with baskets of yarn

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and a wide variety of colors.
Beyond that was a stand where a young

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couple was selling homemade root beer,
the old fashioned carbonated by way of fermentation

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variety. I had to stop for
a bottle. The closer I got to

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the park, the more there were
people like me, dressed in twentieth century

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apparel. There was a family of
four waiting in line so the kids could

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have a turn on the pony ride. A young couple obviously deeply in love,

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paid no attention to anything or anyone
except each other, and older couples

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walked hand in hand, enjoying the
memories of youth that must have been stirred

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by the nostalgia of the event.
One lady, whose white roots were showing

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under her harshly dyed red hair,
was holding up a quilt at a booth

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and telling the withered old man beside
her how her grandmother had made a quilt

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using the same pattern and nearly identical
colors for her when she was a little

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girl, And to his credit,
the man was already pulling out his wallet

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to purchase it for her. In
nervous anticipation, she wiped her hands down

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the front of a gaudy white top
with large turquoise flowers printed on it.

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Near the center of the park was
where the real activity was taking place.

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Children were gathered around long makeshift tables
and carving pumpkins. Adults walked all along

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the line and offered guidance wherever possible. Moms and dads cringed that the messes

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their children were making, before smiling
brightly and congratulating them on their jobs well

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done. And then another adult dressed
in appropriate period clothing would come along and

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direct them away from the table to
a place where presumably the children could enter

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their masterpiece in the contest that was
to be judged later in the afternoon.

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Now this was paradise. I couldn't
believe how fortunate I was to have found

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such a festival. It was everything
I ever dreamed of. Booth after booth

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sold to items that had been made
by hand and were surprisingly reasonably priced.

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Along the far edge of the park
was a row of gaming booths where visitors

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were encouraged to try their hand at
balloon darts, the duck pond and a

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ring toss at the end of the
boost was a dunk tank where the town's

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mayor was perched precariously on a lever
that would drop him into the water below

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if the person throwing the ball hit
the target. Periodically, a man driving

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a horse drawn wagon would make his
way through the crowd, with a handful

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of children sitting in the back,
and another man towered over everyone on stilts

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hidden under extra long pant legs.
I saw a tent with a sign that

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offered palm readings, beside another tent
from which I could hear music. Now

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this wasn't the typical Barb Brown howling
out of painful renditions of Lenyard skinnered songs

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or making poor attempts at being Janis
Joplin. The music from that tent was

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old beyond my memories. The melodies
were both familiar and strange, alluring and

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menacing. I visited every booth and
examined every piece of merchandise, and purchased

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more than I could comfortably carry,
and I ate more than my stomach had

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room for. I visited the game
booths and took a shot at dunking the

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mayor before winning a stuff bear at
the ring tossed my legs ached and my

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arms were loaded down. By the
time I made my way back over to

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where the children were carving pumpkins,
more and more adults were taking seats at

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the table and trying their hand at
carving. A young girl approached me and

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asked if I'd like to buy a
pumpkin to carve. I was young,

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and my job paid well, and
my bills were paid. I wasn't married,

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and I had no children. This
was what money was made for.

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I thought, yes, please,
I said, and let her lead me

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to an empty spot at the table. And someone held open a bag and

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suggested I put my merchandise sent it
and set it under the table, and

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I obediently did as I was instructed. The young girl brought me a tall

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pumpkin and took my payment. She
pointed out the carving instructions in jawors in

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front of me and asked if I
needed any help. I assured her that

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I was an old hand at this, and I thanked her before she went

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off to find someone to fill the
empty spot beside me. I had already

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cut open the top of my pumpkin
and was scooping out the seeds when the

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lady with the garnish red hair,
sat down beside me. She flashed me

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a tobacco stained grin through lips stained
with a bright pink lipstick that was bleeding

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down the creases of her mouth.
Hazel, she said, excuse me,

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I answered, unsure of why she
was calling me Hazel. Well, my

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name is Hazel. What's yours?
Oh, I'm Charlie. I told her,

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nice to meet you, Charlie.
Have you ever been to this thing

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before? The young girl who helped
me sat a small, squat pumpkin in

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front of Hazel, and it suddenly
struck me that she was matching pumpkin shapes

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to body types. No, I
haven't. I didn't know it existed until

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a week ago. Well, me
neither. If I'd known they did this,

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i'd come every year. I was
struck by the little girl quality in

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her voice. I'm Martin. Over
there, that's my husband, She gestured

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over to where the withered old man
was nodding off on a park bench.

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Martin never likes to go to these
things, but he's had so much fun

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today. He's like a kid again. And she giggled, and I decided

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that I liked Hazel. He says, we can come back next year if

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I want to. Well, that's
nice, I offered, because I didn't

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know what else to say. I
looked over at her sleeping husband. He

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wasn't an attractive old man. I
highly doubted that he had been handsome in

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his youth. He bore a full
set of acne scars on each cheek,

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and his mouth seemed too wide for
his thin face, and his nose was

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long and hooked. However, I
remembered how he had pulled out his wallet

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and purchased the quilt for his wife, and I decided I liked him too.

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We carved our pumpkins, trading suggestions
and offering support as we did so.

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Hazel didn't stop talking. She told
me about her children and grandchildren.

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She talked about a son who died
in Vietnam, and another who lives somewhere

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00:16:44.159 --> 00:16:48.639
out west now, but who always
comes home for Thanksgiving. She told me

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about the quilt she'd purchased and how
much it reminded her of a quilt her

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00:16:52.879 --> 00:16:57.039
grandmother had made for her when she
was a little girl. And then she

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00:16:57.200 --> 00:17:02.840
told me how she and Martin had
planned to travel after he retired from the

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factory where he had worked for nearly
thirty years, but that they had robbed

209
00:17:07.119 --> 00:17:10.519
him of his pension, and now
they couldn't afford to do much more than

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go to little festivals like this.
And by the time the young girl came

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00:17:15.319 --> 00:17:18.720
around and led us over to the
judging table, I knew almost everything a

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00:17:18.799 --> 00:17:26.480
body could know about an elderly couple
leaving Social Security check to check. There

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00:17:26.519 --> 00:17:30.759
must have been one hundred pumpkins on
the hay racks behind the judges booth.

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They were separated into categories by the
age of the artists. We were handed

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00:17:36.559 --> 00:17:40.160
cards on which to write our names, and when we handed them back,

216
00:17:40.240 --> 00:17:44.440
they stuck a sticker on each card
with a number and handed us each a

217
00:17:44.480 --> 00:17:48.240
ticket with a corresponding number. The
judging would take place in a few more

218
00:17:48.319 --> 00:17:52.799
hours, and if we placed,
we would be invited to ride on the

219
00:17:52.839 --> 00:17:56.839
float and carry our pumpkins. I
said my goodbyes to Hazel, and I

220
00:17:56.920 --> 00:18:00.039
wished her and Martin good luck,
and I went to find more food to

221
00:18:00.079 --> 00:18:06.240
eat. When I finally sat down
on the bench where Martin had been napping

222
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earlier, I took a long,
hard look around. Most of the pumpkin

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00:18:10.519 --> 00:18:15.920
carvers were adults. Now the simple
toothless grins created by the children were gone.

224
00:18:15.799 --> 00:18:21.400
Older minds were cutting out more devious
looking faces with evil, frowning eyes

225
00:18:21.440 --> 00:18:26.319
and pointed, jagged teeth. I
watched as first one person in twentieth century

226
00:18:26.440 --> 00:18:32.440
apparel, and then another was replaced
by someone who dressed in their period clothing,

227
00:18:32.559 --> 00:18:37.839
began to carve with amazing precision.
The initial works were not much more

228
00:18:37.839 --> 00:18:41.920
impressive than anyone else's, but little
by little, simple eye holes and gaping

229
00:18:42.000 --> 00:18:48.599
mouths were disappearing. Whole faces were
being carved in with tools that weren't on

230
00:18:48.640 --> 00:18:52.720
the table, but were being pulled
from inside of pockets. I was amazed

231
00:18:52.759 --> 00:18:57.519
at how realistic those faces began to
look. A few were whimsical, but

232
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mostly they were frightened. I saw
one carve to look like an angry sea

233
00:19:03.480 --> 00:19:07.400
captain, into whose mouth the artist
shoved a pipe when he was finished,

234
00:19:07.920 --> 00:19:12.079
And another face resembled a witch.
It looked so alive that I could almost

235
00:19:12.160 --> 00:19:18.599
see her meeting with her sisters in
the open scene of Macbeth. Then I

236
00:19:18.640 --> 00:19:22.599
saw a beastly face. The eye
was popped out and dangling by cords of

237
00:19:22.680 --> 00:19:27.960
pumpkin guts. Its cheeks were modeled
as if scarred by smallpox, and it

238
00:19:29.000 --> 00:19:33.480
was spewing more pumpkin guts from its
fat lips. It looked like blood was

239
00:19:33.519 --> 00:19:37.599
trickling from its nose, and I
couldn't help but feel that I had seen

240
00:19:37.640 --> 00:19:41.839
that face somewhere, maybe not such
a hideous version of it, but definitely

241
00:19:41.880 --> 00:19:48.160
that face, and I decided it
must be the artist's rendition of Charles Lofton

242
00:19:48.400 --> 00:19:53.160
as the hunchback of Notre Dame.
I was beginning to get tired. Too

243
00:19:53.240 --> 00:19:56.960
much food, too many bottles of
the overly sweet root beer, and too

244
00:19:56.960 --> 00:20:02.839
many glasses of apple cider were take
making their toll. The judge wasn't due

245
00:20:02.880 --> 00:20:07.400
to start for another hour, but
I was imagining my warm, comfortable hotel

246
00:20:07.480 --> 00:20:11.640
room and thinking that no parade would
match the joy of crawling into bed.

247
00:20:11.960 --> 00:20:18.279
Another completed pumpkin was placed beside the
dangling eye pumpkin. This one had been

248
00:20:18.359 --> 00:20:23.839
painted with pink lipstick and wore a
mop of bright red hair. I looked

249
00:20:23.880 --> 00:20:29.000
at the little squinting eyes and thought
how funny it was that the two pumpkins,

250
00:20:29.079 --> 00:20:33.359
side by sides looked so much like
Hazel and Martin. And it occurred

251
00:20:33.400 --> 00:20:36.720
to me then that it must be
a tradition to find people in the crowd

252
00:20:37.119 --> 00:20:41.640
and the car faces to resemble theirs. I looked up and down the line

253
00:20:41.680 --> 00:20:45.519
of the artists to see if anyone
was carving my face. None of the

254
00:20:45.559 --> 00:20:52.400
pumpkins looked anything like me. Will
you come with me please? I looked

255
00:20:52.440 --> 00:20:56.640
around, and the voice that seemed
to be whispering in my ear, the

256
00:20:56.680 --> 00:21:00.799
young girl who had sold me the
pumpkin, was bending over the back of

257
00:21:00.839 --> 00:21:04.160
my bench. Are you talking to
me? I asked, yes? Can

258
00:21:04.200 --> 00:21:07.880
you please come with me? She
was beckoning for me to follow her.

259
00:21:10.680 --> 00:21:15.000
Exhaustion was winning the day. I
couldn't imagine where I would ever find the

260
00:21:15.160 --> 00:21:18.079
energy to stand up, much less
walk. I shook my head no,

261
00:21:18.519 --> 00:21:23.480
unable to find the words to explain
that I was too tired. You've won

262
00:21:23.599 --> 00:21:29.160
a price, she said, you
have a spot on the float. Her

263
00:21:29.160 --> 00:21:33.000
smile felt more like a leer.
All around us, lights were being lit,

264
00:21:33.200 --> 00:21:40.079
or perhaps torches were being ignited.
I couldn't tell which voices were fading

265
00:21:40.119 --> 00:21:42.920
in and out. People were moving
about, but it looked more like they

266
00:21:42.960 --> 00:21:48.759
were swaying. I felt dizzy.
If you'll follow me, I'll take you

267
00:21:48.799 --> 00:21:52.960
to the float, she said.
I don't know if I was too exhausted

268
00:21:52.960 --> 00:21:56.640
to move or too exhausted to disobey. I sat straight up on the bench

269
00:21:56.680 --> 00:22:00.920
and I reached for my back.
My body was making up my mind for

270
00:22:02.119 --> 00:22:07.599
me. It apparently thought I had
enough energy to follow. My hand reached

271
00:22:07.599 --> 00:22:10.440
the spot where my bag should have
been, but there was nothing there.

272
00:22:11.000 --> 00:22:14.240
I have your bag, if you
will follow me, the young girl said.

273
00:22:14.880 --> 00:22:18.759
Her voice had a strange, ethereal
sound that matched the music that was

274
00:22:18.799 --> 00:22:22.599
still coming from the tent. Come
on, she coaxed. It's this way.

275
00:22:23.599 --> 00:22:29.039
The world tilted sideways as I gained
my feet, but I quickly righted

276
00:22:29.079 --> 00:22:33.599
myself and I took the first step
forward. She was directly in front of

277
00:22:33.640 --> 00:22:37.559
me. Her long brown hair fell
down her back in soft waves. Such

278
00:22:37.640 --> 00:22:44.720
pretty hair, I heard myself mutter. We walked through the crowd single file,

279
00:22:45.279 --> 00:22:48.119
and every now and then she would
stop and look back to make sure

280
00:22:48.160 --> 00:22:52.799
I was still there. Somehow I
was. My head was spinning and my

281
00:22:52.880 --> 00:22:56.680
eyes were losing focus. I was
certain that I was going to pass out,

282
00:22:56.680 --> 00:23:00.440
but my feet kept moving forward.
We made our way bad back up

283
00:23:00.480 --> 00:23:06.839
the street to the big red barn. In here, she said, sliding

284
00:23:06.880 --> 00:23:11.200
the door open wide enough for me
to step through. It was warm inside.

285
00:23:11.759 --> 00:23:15.680
It had been a relatively warm day, but the night at some point,

286
00:23:15.759 --> 00:23:19.119
and I can't remember when it had
become night. The night air chilled

287
00:23:19.160 --> 00:23:26.599
everything, including me. The interior
of the barn glowed with a golden hue

288
00:23:26.599 --> 00:23:30.759
that one hundred lit candles or a
blazing fire would create, and people were

289
00:23:30.799 --> 00:23:37.640
moving around inside. They were all
dressed in colonial attire. In front of

290
00:23:37.680 --> 00:23:41.319
me was a woman. Her clothes
were from my century, and it told

291
00:23:41.319 --> 00:23:47.000
me that she was not local.
She turned to look at me, and

292
00:23:47.200 --> 00:23:52.880
we were both startled to see the
disoriented exhaustion in each other's faces. A

293
00:23:52.000 --> 00:23:57.160
voice from somewhere deep inside me whispered, I told you to leave now,

294
00:23:57.240 --> 00:24:04.759
it's too late. I felt sick. There was a strange, nauseating smell

295
00:24:06.039 --> 00:24:10.279
hanging in the air, and I
couldn't quite place it. It was thick

296
00:24:10.319 --> 00:24:15.440
and metallic in nature, with undertones
of something I could not identify. I

297
00:24:15.519 --> 00:24:18.720
closed my eyes for just a moment. The thud of something heavy hitting the

298
00:24:18.759 --> 00:24:23.920
dirt floor somewhere near me brought me
wide awake. I focused on the spot

299
00:24:25.000 --> 00:24:30.880
where the woman had stood only a
moment before, but she was gone automatically.

300
00:24:30.920 --> 00:24:33.319
I stepped forward to take her place
in line, and as I did

301
00:24:33.319 --> 00:24:40.240
so, I tripped over her body. I need help, someone was saying.

302
00:24:40.960 --> 00:24:45.119
It was the blacksmith I had seen
earlier. This one passed out.

303
00:24:45.279 --> 00:24:49.119
Someone helped me lift her. I
watched as two other men came over and

304
00:24:49.160 --> 00:24:53.039
half dragged, half carried the woman
away. I heard the sound of a

305
00:24:53.079 --> 00:24:59.480
blade swishing through the air and the
split of something viscous. The line moved

306
00:24:59.480 --> 00:25:04.480
forward other step. My body ached
for release. My eyes wouldn't stay open.

307
00:25:06.960 --> 00:25:11.559
There are always gluttons, someone was
saying. Every year there are those

308
00:25:11.559 --> 00:25:15.319
who drink too much root beer and
they pass out. It's always the same,

309
00:25:15.240 --> 00:25:18.920
too much root beer. What did
he mean? Root Beer is an

310
00:25:18.960 --> 00:25:23.720
alcoholic. It shouldn't make anyone pass
out. I tried to count the number

311
00:25:23.720 --> 00:25:30.079
of bottles I had drank that day, Three maybe four. Another swish of

312
00:25:30.079 --> 00:25:36.480
a blade and another splight of thick
fluid. The line moved forward another step,

313
00:25:37.039 --> 00:25:41.079
and I followed suit. My mind
was telling me to focus. Now.

314
00:25:41.480 --> 00:25:47.640
That little voice wasn't whispering anymore.
It was screaming at me to get

315
00:25:47.680 --> 00:25:52.440
out and run, or you're going
to die. I forced my eyes open

316
00:25:52.519 --> 00:25:56.880
and took in my surroundings, and
people were moving around, stacking large objects

317
00:25:56.880 --> 00:26:02.839
into piles. Little voice was telling
me what I was looking at, but

318
00:26:02.880 --> 00:26:08.400
my mind couldn't accept it. The
objects were mannequins, I thought, headless

319
00:26:08.440 --> 00:26:15.480
mannequins, and then I recognized a
gaudy white blouse with big turquoise flowers on

320
00:26:15.559 --> 00:26:18.839
it. The head was gone,
but I knew if it had been there,

321
00:26:19.000 --> 00:26:26.839
it would have had harshly dyed red
hair. There were people everywhere around

322
00:26:26.880 --> 00:26:30.599
me. I didn't know what to
do. I swallowed a scream and I

323
00:26:30.680 --> 00:26:36.440
forced myself to stand perfectly still.
The adrenaline rush completely erased my confusion.

324
00:26:37.279 --> 00:26:41.559
With every ounce of strength I possessed, I forced myself to quit trembling.

325
00:26:41.160 --> 00:26:47.039
I had to get out of there. Another swipe of the blade meant another

326
00:26:47.079 --> 00:26:49.920
step forward, and I moved aside
and allowed the man who was behind me

327
00:26:51.000 --> 00:26:55.960
to step forward in my place.
No one noticed. I stepped back another

328
00:26:56.000 --> 00:27:00.400
step and let the woman behind him
step up. No one saw. The

329
00:27:00.440 --> 00:27:04.960
blade took another head, and the
line stepped forward, and everyone except me.

330
00:27:07.640 --> 00:27:11.319
With each beheading, I moved backwards, and finally I was at the

331
00:27:11.400 --> 00:27:14.839
door, and when it opened,
the young girl who had brought me there

332
00:27:14.920 --> 00:27:18.880
was pushing another victim through. Now
worried that she might have seen me,

333
00:27:18.160 --> 00:27:23.640
but she didn't, and the door
closed too quickly. Anyway, the front

334
00:27:23.640 --> 00:27:27.000
wall of the barn was dark,
not a sight of My only hope was

335
00:27:27.039 --> 00:27:30.960
to fade into the shadows. If
I could keep hidden, maybe I would

336
00:27:32.000 --> 00:27:36.079
find another way out. I slept
backwards, and I pressed my whole body

337
00:27:36.079 --> 00:27:40.640
into the shadows. And a few
minutes later the door opened again and another

338
00:27:40.759 --> 00:27:45.160
victim stepped inside. I had stood
beside that man at the ring toss,

339
00:27:45.880 --> 00:27:48.759
and he looked at me, but
he was in too deep of a stupor

340
00:27:48.799 --> 00:27:53.440
to recognize me. And as I
stared at him, something behind him caught

341
00:27:53.480 --> 00:28:00.079
my eye. It was the stairs
leading to the hayloft. In every horror

342
00:28:00.119 --> 00:28:07.039
movie I've ever watched, the biggest
mistake is always to go up when running

343
00:28:07.079 --> 00:28:10.960
from the monster. Don't climb the
stairs, don't climb the ladder, and

344
00:28:11.000 --> 00:28:14.519
don't climb the tree. I knew
that, but I also knew there was

345
00:28:14.559 --> 00:28:18.880
no other escape. Clinging tight to
the dark wall, I made my way

346
00:28:18.960 --> 00:28:25.200
over and quickly ascended the loft.
Halfway up, I got a glimpse of

347
00:28:25.279 --> 00:28:30.960
the front of the line there was
an altar. I wondered if I could

348
00:28:30.000 --> 00:28:33.759
stay up in the loft for the
night and make my escape the next morning.

349
00:28:34.720 --> 00:28:38.160
I felt safe for now. My
adrenaline levels were dropping, and I

350
00:28:38.240 --> 00:28:44.079
was beginning to feel the exhaustion seep
in again. The hay looked soft and

351
00:28:44.160 --> 00:28:48.000
inviting. I could have fallen to
my knees and slept for days weeks.

352
00:28:48.200 --> 00:28:55.119
Even A voice behind me erased that
thought there are more bags up here,

353
00:28:55.720 --> 00:29:00.200
it was saying, as it climbed
up the stairs behind me. Quickly,

354
00:29:00.279 --> 00:29:03.680
I dove behind a stack of haybelles, and I held my breath. The

355
00:29:03.720 --> 00:29:07.440
owner of the voice was directing another
voice to look at the back of the

356
00:29:07.480 --> 00:29:12.240
waft. They rummaged around while I
laid as still as I could, and

357
00:29:12.279 --> 00:29:15.480
by the time they found what they
were looking for, it was all I

358
00:29:15.480 --> 00:29:22.440
could do to stay awake. Sleep
was all I wanted. Once they were

359
00:29:22.480 --> 00:29:25.599
gone, I made my own way
to the back of the barn, and

360
00:29:25.680 --> 00:29:30.240
to my everlasting joy, there was
a door there. I slipped it open

361
00:29:30.279 --> 00:29:33.559
and I peeked out. Thankfully,
no one was back there. However,

362
00:29:33.599 --> 00:29:37.319
there was no way to get down
either, and whatever was in that root

363
00:29:37.359 --> 00:29:42.400
beer was playing havoc on my cognitive
reasoning. The hay was calling me back

364
00:29:42.400 --> 00:29:45.480
to sleep, and my body was
doing its best to betray me. But

365
00:29:45.519 --> 00:29:51.559
I had to escape. I looked
around the loft for something, anything,

366
00:29:51.599 --> 00:29:55.400
to help me get down. There
was a rope on top of the pile

367
00:29:55.440 --> 00:29:59.640
of bags the two voices had come
up to get and I slid the door

368
00:29:59.680 --> 00:30:02.880
open as white as I dared,
and I dropped the rope down, hoping

369
00:30:02.960 --> 00:30:07.119
there wasn't a window below me that
would reveal the rope and give me away.

370
00:30:07.880 --> 00:30:14.160
I've never been to athletic type.
Combined with the overwhelming desire to sleep,

371
00:30:14.519 --> 00:30:18.240
I don't know how I managed to
get down, and when my feet

372
00:30:18.240 --> 00:30:21.079
were firmly on the ground, I
took off at a dead run for the

373
00:30:21.079 --> 00:30:25.279
covered bridge. I didn't care at
that point who saw me. I just

374
00:30:25.359 --> 00:30:30.519
needed to get away. I was
running at what felt like a breakneck speed,

375
00:30:30.599 --> 00:30:36.039
but in reality it was little more
than a crawl. Street Lights or

376
00:30:36.119 --> 00:30:40.680
torches let my path. As I
ran along the street toward the bridge,

377
00:30:40.839 --> 00:30:45.039
it was getting closer and freedom was
seconds away. And I knew when I

378
00:30:45.079 --> 00:30:48.200
got to my truck that I wouldn't
be going back to my hotel room.

379
00:30:48.640 --> 00:30:52.599
I was going home. I was
going to put as much space between me

380
00:30:52.680 --> 00:30:57.440
and this horrible place, these monstrous
people, as I possibly could. I

381
00:30:57.480 --> 00:31:03.079
took my first step onto the bridge. A relief flooded my body. My

382
00:31:03.119 --> 00:31:06.839
truck was on the other side,
just over the water. I could do

383
00:31:06.960 --> 00:31:11.079
this. My hand reached down to
feel for my keys in my front pocket,

384
00:31:11.119 --> 00:31:15.559
and there they were. The bridge
was dark, but moonlight illuminated the

385
00:31:15.640 --> 00:31:19.680
opening at the far end. I
was going to be safe soon. I

386
00:31:19.720 --> 00:31:23.920
burst through the portal that had led
me to that awful place and came to

387
00:31:25.000 --> 00:31:30.160
a staggering halt. My truck wasn't
parked in the field. No vehicles were

388
00:31:30.200 --> 00:31:36.240
parked there. The entire field was
empty. Overwhelmed by confusion, I looked

389
00:31:36.240 --> 00:31:40.400
back across the river at the little
town and a mass of fire burned now

390
00:31:40.519 --> 00:31:45.440
in the middle of the park.
Strange music drifted through the air, bringing

391
00:31:45.480 --> 00:31:49.319
with it uncertainty. Was this all
a bad dream? When was I going

392
00:31:49.359 --> 00:31:55.160
to wake up? Could I wake
up? I turned back to the field

393
00:31:55.200 --> 00:31:57.839
where my truck should have been,
and then down the road where freedom waited.

394
00:31:59.480 --> 00:32:02.400
I thought that was running through my
mind. Was too horrible to accept

395
00:32:04.319 --> 00:32:07.519
even as I rejected it. I
slid down the river bank and began to

396
00:32:07.599 --> 00:32:13.160
quietly make my way along it,
hidden from view by underbrush and overgrown trees,

397
00:32:13.640 --> 00:32:17.359
and back to the park, where
the fire burned. From behind one

398
00:32:17.400 --> 00:32:22.400
of those tall oak trees that bordered
the park, I watched the festivities.

399
00:32:23.319 --> 00:32:30.160
The townspeople were dancing around a massive
bonfire where the pumpkin carving tables had been.

400
00:32:30.240 --> 00:32:34.680
All around the fire, on the
ground were the headless bodies of a

401
00:32:34.839 --> 00:32:39.200
hundred or more out of towners.
Where their heads had once been, jack

402
00:32:39.240 --> 00:32:45.440
o lanterns were now perched. I
saw the bodies of Hazel and Martin,

403
00:32:45.720 --> 00:32:49.720
and the man who stood beside me
at the ring toss, the family of

404
00:32:49.839 --> 00:32:53.880
four and their two children, and
the young couple in love. Each pumpkin

405
00:32:54.119 --> 00:33:00.079
was a grotesque replica of the head
that had replaced, the smell of their

406
00:33:00.119 --> 00:33:07.000
body slowly roasting bold in the pit
of my stomach. The kettlecorn man was

407
00:33:07.000 --> 00:33:10.079
at the center of the activities.
He was dressed now on a white robe

408
00:33:10.119 --> 00:33:15.319
with a hood reminiscent of the types
of hoods worn by the ku Klux Klan.

409
00:33:15.279 --> 00:33:21.039
He held up ahead and said something
strange over it before casting it into

410
00:33:21.039 --> 00:33:25.359
the fire. I recognized it by
the shock of red hair, and everyone

411
00:33:25.599 --> 00:33:32.079
cheered. The Feast of Albrith.
By all blessings be bestowed. The man

412
00:33:32.279 --> 00:33:38.079
called the Feast of Albreth, answered
his followers. There were more cheers.

413
00:33:39.640 --> 00:33:44.400
He picked up Martin's head and repeated
the ritual, and I watched as he

414
00:33:44.440 --> 00:33:49.039
picked up head after a head and
repeated his prayer and cast it into the

415
00:33:49.079 --> 00:33:53.000
fire again and again. The villains
cheered, and the smell of burning flesh

416
00:33:53.079 --> 00:33:59.119
was so overpowering that I began to
feel sick. But at last I emptied

417
00:33:59.160 --> 00:34:02.559
the contents of my stomach out onto
the dark grass behind the tree. I

418
00:34:02.599 --> 00:34:07.519
had seen enough. That was a
blessing. The medicated root beer came up

419
00:34:07.559 --> 00:34:14.159
with the food, sobering me.
With no truck, I saw no reason

420
00:34:14.280 --> 00:34:16.760
to go back the way I came. I knew the river would take me

421
00:34:16.840 --> 00:34:23.079
back to civilization. I had only
to follow it. It took me three

422
00:34:23.199 --> 00:34:28.760
days before I saw anything that looked
remotely like the world I had left behind

423
00:34:28.800 --> 00:34:32.039
when I crossed that bridge for the
first time. I hadn't dared leave the

424
00:34:32.159 --> 00:34:37.239
river until then. I had drank
river water and gone without food but I

425
00:34:37.280 --> 00:34:43.880
had gotten away. That was all
that mattered now. I reported my truck

426
00:34:43.920 --> 00:34:47.159
as stolen, and I received an
insurance check that was big enough to put

427
00:34:47.199 --> 00:34:52.519
a down payment on another one.
It wasn't as nice as the first,

428
00:34:52.599 --> 00:34:55.719
but I didn't need a better truck. I wouldn't be traveling around the country

429
00:34:55.800 --> 00:35:10.719
to festivals anymore. My world would
never expand beyond my own backyard again. M