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⚠️ Content warning: This article contains mentions of blood, gore, and some body horror.


⚠️ content warning  

It was Hallow's Eve.
The calm crackling of classical music played on the radio, which rested atop the dining table across from me. A lone violin quavered each note in succession, accompanied by my low humming as I scrubbed the dishes. An audible wind flooded in the hollow silence. It left me to sing in isolation.
The feeling of residing in an open field alone was a serenity unlike any other. I wouldn't be able to hear my thoughts if I lived in the city. Cramped and claustrophobic, I would've suffocated in the crowd, my lungs drowned in the dark smog. I appreciated the quietness, remaining with only my reflections and I. The air tickled my throat with a freshness no other place could provide. It almost felt like an addiction.
A pumpkin sat on the counter beside me — its face and head skewered open, and its guts wrenched out to make way for the wax stuffed down its throat. I'd recall how it choked out a flame before perishing with a forced and toothy grin. I could sense it gawking daggers at me, pleading to me why it was swept from its family and mutilated, why I tossed its insides aside and left it lifeless in the corner. Even now, I could hear it mocking me, occasionally gagging from the melting resin.
I turned off the sink and stared at the cloudy water as it plummeted down the drain. Taking in a deep breath, I proceeded to dry my hands. As I coated the towel with my dripping palms, I noticed the radio's captivating melody had fallen into a malignant static. My ears rang in response, followed by a slight migraine. I turned to my side — a disgruntled expression on my face — before approaching it and ceasing its shrieking. It shortly fell asleep afterwards.
Sighing, I soon found myself in a familiar emptiness that quickly enveloped me. I took a moment to relish in the mere beauty of the void, shutting my eyes and standing in place. The lukewarm atmosphere caused sweat to drip down my face and rain my body with a piercing coldness. Oh, how I missed you, silence. You never fail to keep me at peace. The days I go by would not be complete without you.
It just felt so pleasant.
But as swiftly as I slipped into its trance, I gathered my thoughts and continued with my night. "Maybe I should take a stroll through the pumpkin patch." That would be a good idea.
With that in mind, I gradually made my way to the entrance. It was somewhat tedious to navigate through the dark, but I merely focused on the light clawing its way inside from beneath the door. One step after another — the floorboards letting out subtle squeaks — I eventually stood before it. I then gripped the luminescent handle before twisting and pulling forcefully. The wooden doorway screeched at me, a shrill and sore sound cracking the stillness for a second. I chose to ignore its screaming and shut it tight.
A lantern dawned its rays from above, surrounded by a crowd of wretched insects. The light shrouded the front porch in a jaundiced shade, and the rocking chair slowly swayed back and forth in the breeze. I was almost distracted by the glowing moon in the dusk and misty sky, taking my breath away. But I soon shifted my attention back to my lovely garden.
The crumbling steps creaked as I strode to my dear fruitful children resting on the soil. A faint smile slowly formed on my face as I feasted my unblinking eyes on their alluring autumn hue. Crouching down to a pumpkin's head peeking from the earth, I caressed its wrinkled skin. It jerked in response, a droplet trickling down its face. It was weeping, almost crying. Placing a finger to its mouth, I shushed its yelping with a soothing tone in my voice: "Don't be afraid. I promise I won't hurt you." I stroked its head, assuring it was safe with me.
And as I leaned in to peck it goodnight, I caught a glimpse of a red something in my peripheral vision.
Hidden in the earth, I spotted a dazzling cherry rose, enticing me with such a delightful tint. A lovely shade of red unlike any other, sparking more variety in this pumpkin patch. I pulled the flower from the ground to observe it up close, taking in its scent and fondling its petals. It would be nice to have a taste of such magnificence. My mouth watered when the thought crossed my mind, and I decided not to wait a moment longer.
I proceeded to tear off a petal from the blossoming beauty and placed it in my mouth, wrapping my tongue in its perfume and chewing every flavor apart. Tearing it asunder, I could feel its juices seeping from my mouth, though that was probably just my saliva. It tasted like pure ecstasy, blanketing my cavity with a warmth of nature. It was as if the heavens came down to provide me with this blessing. I thank the one who brought me such fervency.
A taste so sweet, it felt like I was young again: Knocking on the neighbors' entrance and asking for treats.
I took a second bite, then a third, a fourth, a fifth. I chewed away its skin as more of the mouth-watering flavor stained my lips in a throbbing sensation. The juice smeared my palms, glistening in the moonlight. It was an addiction, the most delectable kind. I could feel everything melting around me like an oil painting. I gasped for air.
I sipped from what remained of its corpse in my hands before clenching my burning chest. As I tried to calm myself down, I caught sight of another rose climbing to the surface. I desperately reached for its taste, but another suddenly sprouted before me. Then another, and another. More and more flowers clawed their way from beneath the grime until an ocean of bloom surrounded me. They wailed my name like an insult, trapping me in a wall of noise. I groaned in pain as my heart quickened in pace and my vision grew more blurry.
Then, I sensed something piercing my leg.
A thorn punctured my ankle, causing blood to trickle below the ground, providing the blossoms with my savory flavor. As they swallowed my fluids, the roses fell into an abrupt silence. I could hear them breathing faster and faster before collectively whispering to me in the dead of night:
They wanted more.
A vine then crept up and wrapped itself around my leg, climbing my body and penetrating my skin with its thorns. More of my wine seeped into the ground, quenching their thirst. I couldn't leave. The vines were pulling me into the filth, burying me in the earth.
The barb tore my flesh apart, draining my blood and clouding my view. I struggled to breathe, violently coughing and straining to keep my balance. My limbs and torso grew numb as a red fountain shot out of me. I stood frozen still as a puddle of ichor formed beneath my feet.
Was this how it felt? When I gouged out that pumpkin's eyes and mouth? When I taped the lips of my furniture? When I peeled the skin off that rose? Were they giving me a taste of all the suffering they endured because of me? The flowers tore my flesh apart and forced my liquids to gush out of me. Their thorns ran deeper inside me, plunging into my veins. The feeling of my life getting sucked out of me. Everything about it felt so… so…

…sublime.

I had never felt such pleasure before. This euphoric pain spiked across my framework, painting my canvas in a coat of wine, paying much attention to each nerve they stroked. The distress enamoured me — feeling so helpless before a mob of thorns. I was over the moon. The thorns tightened their grip.
They slowly sealed my lips shut, suppressing me as they fed on my dying self. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and submerged myself in this blissful fate. More and more blood ran down my body, watering the flowers, satisfying them. The intoxicating silence finally made me a part of it, sweeping me off my feet. The wind hummed to me a melody as my life faded from me.
I was complete, whole. This Halloween night filled me with joy unlike any other. The world had never felt more jubilant, more alluring. From the roses and their thorns to the moon in the night sky: Everything around my standing corpse was never more…

…beautiful.