"My dear child," she said in a weak pathetic tone, "do you know that Halloween is almost here? That means we need a jack o' lantern to carve and set on the table like we do every year, you know, the ones with a candle inside, the eyes that light up with fire. Yes, that is what we need. Wait right here while mama gets a pumpkin for us to carve."
The lady moved her form towards the door where the carcasses of the boys lay and the rags that she wore around her body dragged on the floor behind her like a ghost following her every move.
Darla sat on the floor clutching her arms around her knees and sobbing uncontrollably. She didn't know what to do and she tried to think of a way to get out of that hell hole. She was tired and scared and she no longer wanted to be away from home. She looked to the window to the left and thought that she could reach it and push the plastic from its frame and climb out before the lady came back.
Just as she rose to her feet, the lady appeared in the doorway with a head clutched by the hair in her hand, the other holding the wall to keep her steady as she walked. The hair pulled loose and the head thumped to the floor. The lady looked at the lock of hair still clutched in her hand and said, "dear me, looks like this thing is getting old." She bent to pick up the head and winced in pain as she up righted herself. She walked with a crooked gait to the table in the center of the room and placed the head there. It stared at Darla with that grotesque expression of shock.
She stood there as the lady crossed the room and searched the drawers in the cabinet for a knife. Satisfied with what she found, the lady returned to the table and sat in the single chair that was there. She turned to Darla and asked, "Are you going to help me with this or do I have to do it myself? I remember a time when you loved to do this, every year."
"I have to go home now," was all that Darla could find herself to say. "I have to get out of here before my parents find out that I am not at school."
"You are not going anywhere Heather. No, come over here and help mama carve the pumpkin."
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Darla just stood there in tears as the lady beckoned her forward. "Ok, stand there and cry if you want to, but don't you leave this house young lady or you will be sorry when you do come back."
Darla thought to herself that she would never come back to this place, but she stood in her shoes and watched. The lady tipped the head so the gap where the neck was, faced her. She stabbed the knife into the head and began to cut the flesh open. Blood poured over her hands as she cut. She sat the knife on the table, reached her hand inside the head, and tugged at the flesh. Darla could hear the blood oozing through the lady's fingers and the crunch of the decayed flesh as it gave way and was thrown on the table. It was like a child would take the seeds from a pumpkin on halloween, only this made her sick and she felt her stomach turn once again, but she swallowed the acid as it made its way to her mouth.
Now the lady was carving the eyes from their sockets and placing them on the table with the other chunks of meat. Darla looked to the window once again and wondered if she could get out before the lady had the chance to stop her. She decided that she could, but for some reason, her feet stayed glued to the spot as this woman laughed at the creation on the table before her. She was pulling at the hair that remained on the skull and mumbling something to herself that Darla couldn't hear.
With the lady's back to her, Darla crept towards the window and as soon as she pushed the old plastic from the frame, the lady spun around and cursed her. "What do you think your doing, get away from that window. You know how many times I had your brothers fix that damn thing?"
Ignoring the lady, Darla pulled herself up to the sill and started to climb out. The moment her feet hit the ground, she felt the grip of death on her hands. She looked up to see the lady in the window holding her hands tight. She struggled to get loose, but a nail protruding from the sill sliced into her wrist, drawing warm blood. It seemed to flow down her arm in a warm stream of life. The cold air caused the blood to steam as if letting her ghost escape her body.
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