Richard looked at the black, skinny trunks of the trees in front of his car. The forest. He'd remembered coming here first as a boy, pretending to be a knight or a soldier. Later as a teenager to experiment in. And now he was a man. He got out of his car and popped open the trunk, took out a shovel and set off walking towards the wood, passing a sign advertising the shopping centre that was to be built there in the spring. All of the woodland would be hacked away and replaced with concrete and glass, things would be unearthed that were meant to stay in the ground. Richard crunched over the leaves, trying not to think about the last time he'd visited the wood, focusing instead on his destination. Past the trees and across the mud, over a quiet brook and around a marsh was the sycamore. Its mottled bark was flaking off, scarred with lichen that ran up the trunk to its naked limbs. It was a marker. A gravestone. He began to dig.
Metal hit mud, cutting through roots and worms as he began his slow descent into the grave. It wasn't long before sweat had wet his back. He continued to dig. Three feet down, four. Had it been this deep? He wondered for a second if it was the right tree when the shovel hit something that wasn't mud. There was a smell. Not the sickly sweet smell of rot that came from something relatively fresh. This was the death stench, damp and bitter and black. The man retched slightly before scratching the dirt that covered the sack, though he knew he was only delaying having to use his hands. A bird screeched nearby, flapping through the branches. He took away as much of the muck he could with the shovel before resting it by the open grave then grabbed the top of the thing in the sack and heaving it up so that it faced him. It was a lot heavier than he thought. The smell was atrocious now, seeming to gouge up past his nose and scratching around just beneath his brain. Coughing, he pulled himself up from the hole and then dragged the body up with him. He rested for a moment there, lying on the forest floor between a pile of mud and the body of his son wrapped in a sack next to him.
It didn't take him long to fill the empty grave back in, then he had a closer inspection of the body. Mud had permeated through the fibres of the sack, colouring the whole thing black, though some patches were darker than others. Old blood. There was also the hole he'd made with his shovel. A slit in the sack where the head was. It was almost like a mouth. He almost felt like laughing at the absurdity of it, before tears rolled down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he whispered to it. Gently, Richard put him over one shoulder, picked up the shovel and set off walking. He was covered from head to toe in mud, which began to dry as he continued walking through the wood. If anybody saw him they would see a grim figure indeed. Though he knew the forest was seldom visited, especially in the middle of the day. Most of the town would be at work or school, perhaps talking about parties they would go to or costumes they would wear. He wished his son could have had that. He wished things could have been different.
The drive home was uneventful, though the temperature had dropped. A mist was just beggining to fall up on the hills surrounding the town. At a set of traffic lights a pickup truck pulled up next to him. Its driver rolled down the window and knocked a few times on Richard's car. He turned to see an overweight man wave at him so he rolled his window down.
"Hey George."
"Hey there Richard! Where've you been?" shouted the man.
"Went to do a bit of gardening at Lucy's dad's house."
"Gardening? Looks like you took most of it away on you!" he said, laughing. Richard smiled.
"See you later George." he said as the light turned green.
"Yeah, happy halloween!" he called as Richard drove off slowly. The suburbs where he lived were decorated in all manner of ornamentage, from lone jack-o-lanterns to riots of plastic ghouls draped in woolen spider-webs. An old man planting a scarecrow in his front lawn looked up and waved, Richard returned it before pulling into his drive across the street. The garage shuddered open mechanically.
Lucy was waiting in the living room, sitting at the edge of the leather sofa nursing a scotch.
"Is he here?"
"He's in the car."
"Did it go alright? Did anybody see you?"
"No." said Richard. He had stripped down to his underwear and went to pour himself a drink.
"Where are your clothes?"
"In the machine. Relax." said Richard. He took a drink and looked out at his lawn. He noticed it needed mowing. Lucy got up and began to walk towards the garage.
"Where are you going?"
"I want to look at him." said Lucy. Richard followed and rested a hand on her shoulder, leaving muddy finger marks on her white jumper.
"There's nothing to see." he said softly. She turned, eyes bloodshot with tears. The couple stood in the dim hallway for a moment, holding each other. Richard finished his drink and took her by the hand, leading her towards the bedroom.
He stepped out of the shower and rubbed a towel through his hair, looking at the blurred reflection of himself in the steamed mirror. The lighting threw shadows down his face, it reminded him of a skull. Lucy was sat in the living room, the television was on, some black and white film.
"I'm going to put our son in the basement." said Richard. Lucy didn't acknowledge him. He went to his car and popped open the trunk, lifting the burlap sack out and onto an old blanket which he wrapped the whole bundle in. When he walked back into the hallway his wife turned and gave out a sob. The basement door was already open and Richard slowly descended into the dark, his feet guessing where the next step would be. Using the light from the hall he picked his way past the boxes and unused furniture then gently lay the body down onto the concrete floor. When he was back at the top of the stairs he turned around. His shadow made the basement a lot darker, though he imagined he could still see the spot he had put the boy, wrapped in a muddy sack and one of the blanket's he used to have on his bed. Richard shut the door and went to watch the rest of the film with his wife.
The evening seemed to fall suddenly, the street lights that stabbed through the purple black of night were joined with the glow from hundreds of pumpkins. Parents walked behind groups of vampires, witches, skeletons, werewolves, aliens and other miniature monsters whilst teenagers wore cheap, plastic masks and giggled amongst themselves. The neighbourhood was busy.
"Are you sure you want to do this? I think people would understand if we didn't, he's meant to be missing after all." said Richard.
"No, no. It's tradition." said Lucy. She had dressed as the bride of Frankenstein, the thick make-up covering her puffy eyes, the lipstick that had been applied drunkenly wasn't restricted to her mouth. Richard played with the elastic of a Frankenstein's monster mask. There was a knock at the door.
"I'll get it." said Richard, slipping the mask on. He answered the door.
"Trick or Treat!" shouted two girls. One was dressed as Harry Potter, the other was a robot.
"Ohhh! Treat I think." said Richard, laughing. He held out a bowl full of candy which they took.
"Thanks!" said Harry Potter before they both ran to the street. Richard shut the door and went back to his wife. The air was thick with hairspray, half of her hair was blasted upward. She took a deep drink of whiskey and looked at her husband.
The night wore on, with all kinds of costumed monster knocking at the door. After a boy dressed as a zombie left the door Lucy decided to rest. There were dozens of children, all seemed to be having a good time. It was Halloween night. Richard waved at some triplets dressed as pigs, before closing the door.
"I think that's about it for the evening. It's getting late." said Richard.
"How much candy do we have left?"
"A few bars of chocolate, not much else."
"Can I have one?" said Lucy. Richard went over to the plastic pumpkin head they kept the treats in and threw one over to her.
"I'll be back in a sec." said Richard. He went to the basement. The door creaked open and Richard flicked on the light switch. It took a few seconds for the bulb to come on properly, its electric hum the only sound down the stairs. At the edges of the room were cardboard boxes, the freezer, a desk he'd had since college, the body of his dead son, unused gym equipment and a few bags of old clothes. There was a damp area beneath the blanket. It must be the moisture from the mud seeping out. He looked back to his living room, though Lucy hadn't moved from the sofa. The air here was already beginning to take on that death smell, he wasn't sure how they'd get rid of it. People died in houses all the time, they still got the smell out eventually though. Richard walked toward the blanket and knelt down, sliding his mask away to reveal a grim, tight face wet with tears. A lot of the children who'd visited tonight used to visit the house regularly, his son went to their birthday parties, they all went to the same school. Gingerly, he took a corner of the blanket and began to pull back. It made a wet sound as it peeled away, revealing the dirty hessian beneath. He could now see the hole where his shovel had gone through. It was too dark to make out any details he thought he could make out some shape. He wondered what he looked like.
"What are you doing?" came a voice. He looked over his shoulder, Lucy was at the top of the stairs. Her make-up was smudged and her hair had gone from being vertical to a wild matt that went in every direction. She looked more frightening in this state than she had at the start of the evening.
"Nothing."
"Come upstairs. I don't want to be alone."
The couple sat in front of the television for a while longer. Nobody else knocked on the door so they finished off the few chocolates that remained.
"Where are you going to bury him next?"
"I haven't decided." said Richard. They were watching some film about a vampire, though neither concentrated much on the plot.
"Maybe...maybe you could tell me next time. And I could go and visit him?" said Lucy. Richard didn't answer. On the screen a young woman was running away from a vampire, the camera cutting between her screaming face and the twisted snarl of the monster. Claws tore across her skin.
"Is there any more whiskey?"
"No. There's a few beers in the fridge." said Lucy. Richard took his arm off her shoulders and went to the kitchen, walking past the door to the basement. The fridge was pretty bare, though there was a beer.
"We need to go to the store tomorrow." he called. There was some response. He twisted the bottle open and took a sip, the fizz of it stung at his throat though he found it pleasant. On his way back to the living room he noticed the basement light was still on. He opened the door and was about to flick it off, but couldn't help looking down at the body. The blanket was open, leaving the faceless sack to seemingly stare straight upward. Frowning, he turned the light off and went back to the living room. The woman had escaped the vampire and was now telling a sceptical detective about the ordeal. He sat next to his wife and kissed her on the forehead.
"Don't worry. It'll all be sorted this time tomorrow." he said. She nodded.
The film was coming to a climax. The detective and a priest were standing around a coffin.
"Come up out of your stupor at life." shrieked the priest. The coffin banged open and the vampire opened his mouth to reveal a bloody maw.
"This film's been on ages." said Lucy. The priest died and the detective was now running through a castle.
"We could watch something else." said Richard.
"It's nearly over now." said Lucy. The detective fell against a curtain, yanking it down, letting sunlight pour into a dining room. The vampire threw his hands up to his face as he began to smoulder. And so on. As the credits rolled the two stood up groggily.
"Bed?" said Richard, stretching.
"Yeah. I need a shower first though." she said and walked off. Richard went to put the empty beer bottle in the kitchen when he noticed that the basement light was on again. The shower turned on in the other room, he could hear the faint sound of water falling into the bath. He opened the basement door and turned the light off. Then on. He looked down at the bundle and his heart skipped a beat. The blanket was completely off the body now, the sack lay unwrapped on the hard floor, the forest wetness and the stench of death hung in the air as if the thing had already decided that this should be its new tomb. Richard was about to go down to wrap it back up then decided against it. Maybe it was just settling. Some inner part might have become dislodged because of the heat. He didn't bother trying to think too much about it and turned the light back off, making sure the door was shut properly. He'd take it away tomorrow, there were other forests around. This would be the last night his son would rest under his roof.
The couple lay in bed, the sound of a distant party carried through the night gently. Richard turned to look at the clock on his bedside table. Eleven forty five.
"Are you awake?" said Lucy quietly.
"No." he whispered
"I can't sleep either."
"So...what do you want to talk about?" whispered Richard. There was a pause.
"Are you mad at me?"
"No, why would I be mad at you?"
"You know why." said Lucy. She'd given up whispering.
"I said, didn't I? I've always said, I don't blame you."
"He should have been here. I..."
"C'mon. It's okay. It's okay baby." he said, rolling over. They embraced in the darkness. The sudden knock at the door made them both jump. Lucy looked over her husband's shoulder at the time.
"Whose that?"
"Probably some teenagers." said Richard. Then the knocking came again. They waited. At the third round of knocking Richard yanked the covers back and got out of bed. "I'll be back in a minute." he went down the hallway then paused in the darkness. The light was on in the basement, casting a yellow glow across the floor. He ignored it this time and went to the front door to look out of the window. There was nobody there. He sighed and began to walk back to the bedroom when there was another series of knocks. It wasn't coming from outside. It was coming from the basement door. Richard froze in the middle of the living room. There was a shadow behind the door. His tongue rolled over his dry lips. The man felt as if he was in a dream. He realised he was holding his breath and released it slowly before walking to the shaft of light, Richard stood in front of the door. With a shaking hand he reached for the handle and carefully turned it. The door opened.
The bed was growing cold. Lucy leaned her body against her knees and waited. Almost five minutes had passed since her husband had gone to check the front door.
"Richard?" she called out, quietly. She waited for a response and none came. Maybe he was still talking to whoever had been at the door. Lucy thought for a moment about staying in bed but realised that she couldn't sleep anyway, so quickly got out and put her robe on. She flicked the bedroom light on as she left, then the hallway.
"Richard? Who was at the door?" she said. She blinked a few times in the brightness of the living room. There was nobody there. After having a quick check in the kitchen, she unlocked the front door and looked up and down the street. It was empty now, the mist had fallen from the hills and now rested amongst the dark houses lining the road. The candles inside the dozen or so pumpkins she could see had gone out, making each of the carved faces seem more sinister in the night.
"Richard!?" she shouted into the stillness. Nothing. She closed the front door again and looked toward the hallway. There was still a room she hadn't checked. The basement light was on and she waited at the top of the steps. She saw no sign of her husband, though now that she saw the burlap sack containing her son she forgot about Richard. She went down the stairs, the wood creaking slightly. Tears welled in her eyes.
"My baby." she whispered as she gently knelt by the shape. The smell didn't bother her. She was overwhelmed, feeling emotions so raw and powerful she was barely aware of her surroundings. Lucy reached out and paused. Did she want to remember him this way? She couldn't quite imagine what being beneath the earth would do to the human face. But then, she never quite had the chance to say goodbye. The sack was tied at the top with string, which she tried to undo with trembling fingers though the knot was caked in dirt. She couldn't untie it. That's when she noticed a hole in the sack. Maybe she could open that a little bit. Just for a last look at her son, she missed him every day. She loved him so much. Carefully, she put her finger-tips on either side of the rip and began to stretch it open. Tears fell from her cheeks, wetting the filthy hessian that rested beneath.
"My baby." she whispered, shifting her weight to one side so that the light would be cast into the hole. She could just make out a brown shape when something brushed against her fingers. Then a hand was around her wrist. She screamed, her whole mind seemed to scream, it came out like a banshee's wail and it echoed all around her as the hand yanked her arm deep into the sack, pulling her in. She arched her neck back, her other arm twisting against the basement floor, whole body shaking and writhing as she went deeper and deeper. Her last scream was muffled as her face disappeared into the jagged rip. Shoulders, chest, legs, feet. Then nothing.
