The Night of the Harvest, Kaeleen Chen ’23

Kaeleen Chen ’23

The Night of the Harvest

The dry oak leaves rustled as they tumbled down the sidewalk, the wind causing them to skid down the road, chasing one another. The night was cold, one of the coldest it had been in a while, but there was still a hint of autumn in the air. It was not quite winter yet. It was dark, but the pale light from the half-moon along with the bright flashlight was enough for her to see. An owl hooted in the distance and the breeze picked up enough to make her shiver. Her teeth chattered and she pulled the fabric tighter around her body. She had thought her thin blue raincoat was enough to block out the cold, but maybe it wasn’t. She picked up her pace. She shouldered her heavy bag as she neared the edge of the road. The chainlink fence rattled and screeched against the pavement as she climbed over the gate and dropped into the quiet woods on the other side, the cold from the metal seeping through her gloves. Just a little farther to home, she thought. The woods were eerie at night, the thick canopy blocking out the light from the moon. Her flashlight beam bobbed around, as it scanned the trees and bushes for motion. The swishing of her sneakers through the thick cover of fallen leaves hid most other sounds in the woods. Suddenly, a twig snapped beneath her shoe, causing her to leap backward in alarm with a muffled gasp. She froze, listening for more noises, but there were none. She let out a breath, collecting herself and letting her heart rate slow from its blinding run, and prepared to continue. The glow of the streetlamp showed her she was close. She rushed forward, relief filling her as she neared the street of her neighborhood.

Just as she set foot on the cracked, damp asphalt of Oak Street, she heard a thud behind her and whipped around, her flashlight beam scanning the woods behind her anxiously. Another thud, this time behind her in the direction of the streetlamp. She started to turn, then gasped in surprise as her bag flew open, scattering loose pages down the street. They tumbled down the street, blowing away from her. She cursed, running after the pages, bending to collect them, the fingers of her gloves scraping against the rough asphalt. She neared the next streetlamp to collect the last page. Kneeling, she stuffed it into her bag, switching the flashlight on and dropping it on the ground next to her. A scraping sound startled her, and she grabbed the flashlight, spinning around. A creak sounded and she looked up at the streetlamp, illuminated by the moon behind it. Another creak sounded and her breathing sped up, terror gripping her limbs. The

streetlamp beside her flickered briefly, then went out. She gasped, then clasped her hands over her mouth as the next and the next streetlamps down the street flickered, then went out. She frantically switched the flashlight back on, surprised that it worked.

A low growl sounded somewhere near. Twisting around desperately, she shone the flashlight, trying to find out where the sound came from. The darkness felt as if it was seeping into the edges of her vision; panic set in. Her heart was pounding, thrumming inside her rib cage. Her breathing sped up, fear flashing through her. She trembled, goosebumps prickling up her arms. Laughter sounded in the distance. Her hand shook, the flashlight beam wobbling. Dark shapes flickered near the edges of her peripheral vision. Footsteps sounded, drawing closer and closer and closer. She willed herself to move, run, but she was frozen in terror, hearing the footsteps grow louder and louder, closer and closer.

When it seemed as if the sound was palpable, she finally managed to turn and break out in a run, bolting up the street, as fast as her legs could carry her, the flashlight beam frantically waving back and forth, a scream bubbling in her throat. Running blind, barely able to see in front of her. The adrenaline coursing through her veins and terror pumping through her made her shake. She tripped, tumbling head over heels onto the hard pavement. She tried to get up but was unable to, lying there, gasping for breath, trying to gather the little strength she had left. The noises, the thing, whatever it was, seemed to have vanished. She breathed out a sigh of relief, coughing into the cold air as the acute pain in her chest disappeared. She shakily pulled herself up from the ground, letting her heart rate slow. Safe. At last.

That was when something grasped her shoulder: a clawed, bony hand with sallow skin stretched tightly over the bones, the yellow, twisted nails digging into the fabric of her blue raincoat.

An ear-splitting shriek cut short . . .

Heavy breathing . . .

Laughter ringing out . . .

A child’s high-pitched cry . . .

The sound of something being dragged . . . .

But the silence that followed was louder than what had come before.

The next morning, when the sun rose in the now clear sky, there was no trace of anything that had happened the night before. Except in the wet grass next to the pavement, a little flag of ripped blue fabric which was snagged on a twig, fluttering gently in the breeze.