“Yes…” the boy whispers, looking back up at the moon, “yes, I think I might be.”
“Bad idea to get lost on Halloween. Everyone says the place is haunted.”
(Or: Autumn is the place where summer and winter meet. And sometimes other things.)
Author’s Notes: Caught the autumn/Halloween bug pretty badly. Had to write this. And of course it got real sad real fast. Hope you cry and enjoy it. HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
~~ The first time Jean sees him, the moon is hanging high and bright and larger than his nine-year-old mind can comprehend in the October sky.
It’s light paints his back in contrasts of deep blue and pearly iridescence, cutting a lonely figure among the dry grass and pumpkin vines of late fall. There is no wind and yet the shriveled leaves littering the ground and the stalks of the corn in the distance seem to whisper to one another, nudging each other like old friends after a softly shared joke.
He stands, his face tilted up towards the moon crowding out the darkness of the night’s sky with its size, still.
“Hello?” Jean approaches the figure cautiously, feet crunching beneath him. The figure turns, face still moonlight-pale, clothes silent as he twists.
His dark eyebrows rise when he sees Jean, small and young and curious down the dirt path cutting its way between pumpkins and gourds.
The boy is taller than him, Jean notices, and much older too, probably in his mid to late teens. The boy simply stares, astonished and silent.
“Uh, hi,” Jean says again.
“Y-You…you can see me.” The boy replies, eyes still wide with disbelief.
The boy raises his hands, looking down at his palms, then back up to Jean.
“Where am I?” He asks, his voice small. One of Jean’s eyebrows raise.
“Aunt Rose’s Pumpkin Patch and Cider Mill,” he replies, a tone of “duh” coloring his words. “Are you lost?”
“Rose…?” The boy whispers, looking back up at the moon. “Yes…yes, I think I might be.”
“Bad idea to get lost on Halloween,” Jean says, mouth twisting into a frown. “Everyone says the place is "haunted.”“