Quill's 31 Days of Halloween

Day 19

How would you know?




Deep in rural pumpkin patch territory, sat a bloody carvers knife. It was quite large, and would take a heavy hand to lift and yield. The knife sat, discarded on a bale of hay, sun glinting off the macabre teeth.

Why was this blade here, with nothing but a scarecrow to watch over it? In the background, past the pumpkin field, past the road, was a house. Dressed in Halloween splendor and ghostly costume, the house was a perfect representation of Halloween fright. It looked a more likely suspect of owner of the knife.

But how could one truly know? Simply because black crows cawed over the house, and devishly carved pumpkins graced tree stumps does not mean that the house belonged as a matching set to the knife. Did the vehicles that passed frequently on the road ever comptemplate such things? The implications of it all, they who do not have the time to stop and look?

What stories could be accumulated and spread, giving connection to both the spooky house and the carver’s knife? Would the stories ruin a pristine reputation, or add a more devilish attitude?

But the knife would have to be found first. And it was sitting, alone, on a bale of hay in the middle of a pumpkin patch. Any story cannot begin without the instigator, the one that starts it all.

What if it was a wandering little boy who chanced upon it? Would he wave it proudly, happy to have a new toy? Perhaps his accusing eyes would turn to the hapless scarecrow. It could be said that he was a good little boy who went to tell his mother of the existence of the knife right way.

But perhaps the killer came back for the knife. Maybe he only let it rest against the hay bale while he discarded whoevers blood ran freely down the jagged teeth. Then upon returning, he set his eyes upon the house across the street, ready to get some rest within his home.

But further still, perhaps the boy and the killer meet, and in a flurry of action, the killer catches the boy. The house across the street would be a great place for another murder, seeing it is already dressed up for the part.

Or maybe the knife was fake, just further decoration for thrill seekers. And the house across the street is just a house after all. No more or less. No killer or boy, no knife or house. No hay bale in the middle of pumpkin patch territory.
Nothing.