Missed the other parts? Find them here:
- Check out Part 1
- Part 2 is here.
- Part 3
- Part 4
- Part 5
- Part 6
- Part 7
- Part 8
- Part 9
- Part 10
- Part 11
- Part 12
- Part 13
- Part 14
- Part 15
- Part 16
- Part 17
- Part 18
- Part 19
- Part 20
- Part 21
Dear Diary,
It’s me, Jessica.
The harvest has “come in,” as Billy would say.
With the onset of fall, the leaves have changed into vibrant reds, yellows, and golds. There was a crispness to the air, especially in the morning. The sky seemed a little bluer.
Sean, as mayor of Four Corners, announced a festival to be held. It would be a crazy mix of Oktoberfest, a Gaelic festival called Samhain, Day of the Dead, and Halloween. Sean emphasized he wanted children to dress up if they could and to go “Trick or treating.” He said he thought they should have some joy and excitement to look forward to. And to not lose some of our traditions, honor those who have passed in the past year, and of the harvest coming in.
Rae, Kathy, Joan, Allison, and I were going to the festival as “zombies.” Allison had a talent for makeup and did us all up as the Walking Dead. Rae said it was so good we looked like a music video called “Thriller.”
Diary, I had never heard or seen it.
Mom and Dad went as Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein. With Allison’s work, they looked dang good!
The Miller’s arrived driving the flatbed loaded with sacks of ground wheat, corn, Jack and Samson, and five kegs on the flatbed. Mr. Miller was dressed as the Tin Man. The children were characters from a few different cartoon movies. On horseback, Mrs. Miller was the Wicked Witch of the West, Billy the Scarecrow, Justin the Lion, and Janet was Dorothy.
We walked up, and I asked Jack what he was supposed to be in his usual attire.
“I am a survivor of a post-power-down world. And Samson is dressed as a post power-down world dog. His costume is rather good, don’t you think?” he said and patted the big dog on one side.
I rolled my eyes, Rae said, “Chicken and biscuits, Jack! Could you not of not dressed up for the kids?”
“Not my style. Not even as a kid, I did not do Halloween,” he shrugged.
“Jack, sometimes you are as much fun as a cold, wet towel on a winter day,” Rae said and gave him a punch on the shoulder.
“Ouch,” Jack faked and pretended to roll to one side. I gave Samson a scratch of his ears as he leaned into me with his big head and gave a big sigh of comfort.
“Where are the puppies,” I asked Jack.
“I fed them early. With full bellies they are napping in a dog pile on the couch. Didn’t want them underfoot at the festival.
I nodded. That made sense.
We all climbed up onto the flat bed and headed out for Four Corners.
Entry two.
Just outside of the East gate, they set up paddocks for the livestock. Sheep, goats, hogs, chickens, and cattle were staged for slaughter. Another area was set up for processing.
There were pumpkins everywhere around Four Corners. Some traditional carvings. Others, ornate carvings like cats, ghosts, witches on broomsticks. Others with outrageous and silly expressions. They were so good that Sean immediately set up a Blue Ribbon set of judges to award ribbons to the best-in-show pumpkins.
There was a big bonfire across from Sean’s shack. Sean was sitting on a wood log, strumming his banjo.
Mr. Miller brought cured and smoked bacon. He took the bacon to a few different cooking fires for them to make use for whatever they were making. There were stews, pot pies, someone was making hamburgers and would add the bacon to the top. A whole hog roasting over a pit of red coals. Skewers of all kinds. Apple pies and, of course, pumpkin pies.
Jack had three kegs of beer and two of blackberry wine. He set up next to Sean’s shack as Sean strummed his banjo. Jack tapped a keg of beer and one of the blackberry wine. He poured one for Sean, one for Rae, and then one for himself. Dad declined, but Mom had a wine. Mr. Miller and Justin took a beer each. Someone else had made hard cider, and others had mulled cider warming in pots.
Others gathered around for a drink or to chat. As the afternoon sun began to sink in the west, Sean announced it was time for the children’s Trick or Treat. All the kids were ten years of age and younger. Many of the older ones did not feel it was their place to participate. They did not want to take any treats from the children. Besides, there would be leftovers.
Everyone spread out along Old River Road to the North and South, set up in their own space to let the children come to them, let them say the traditional “Trick or treat!” in their sing-songy voices. Everyone would comment on how great their costumes were and then drop whatever they had to give into everything from plastic orange pumpkins to old pillowcases, and one pair of children had small wooden buckets with really neat carvings of toothy-grin pumpkins.
Mom, Dad, and I still had snack-sized candy to hand out.
Rae made mini-loaves of a German bread called Stollen. It was a rich mix of dried fruit, raisins, honey, cinnamon, and slivered almonds. They were big enough to make for a hearty breakfast or a snack for two. She told the children and their parents after trick or treat, she would be having story time by the bonfire.
Once the children had made their rounds, the children, their parents, and more than a few who did not have children gathered around the bonfire. Rae stood on a log with the bonfire behind her and began to tell a story about a magical pumpkin patch.
“In that patch was a strange being. Tall and skinny, whose body was made out of a skeleton and straw.”
Rae held out her hands claw-like.
“It had a long black coat, black pants, and black boots. And a pumpkin for a head!”
Some of the children’s eyes went wide. Sean had quietly provided Rae with background music from his banjo, sounding menacing and playful at the same time. When Rae announced the strange being had a pumpkin for a head, he gave his banjo head a slap. All the children jumped, and some of the adults did, too. Even I did. A chuckle from the adults rolled through the crowd, but the children sat in rapt attention to Rae. Rae shot Sean a glance and nodded, and they both continued.
“On Halloween night, a young boy and girl went into the pumpkin patch to see if they could get a glimpse of this strange being. It was a full moon, clear sky, stars by the millions could be seen as far as the eye could see.”
Rae looked about the sky.
“The young boy and girl heard something from behind them. Then to their side. Then the other side.”
Rae glanced behind her. Then quickly to the left, then the right.
“Then, the strange being rose from the pumpkin patch to its full height right in front of them.”
Rae knelt down and slowly rose up.
“It towered over the young boy and girl. Scared, they hugged each other for comfort.”
Rae leaned forward, looked around at all the children, and in a slow, low, rumbling voice said,
“Have you been a good boy and a good girl?”
“Still scared, they nodded quickly,” which Rae simulated with eyes wide, which got laughs from the adults and a few of the children.
“The strange being then straightened, with one hand reached behind its back, and then pulled something out.”
Rae reached behind her back.
“It held its skeletal-like hand out to them with a nod.”
Rae held her hand in like a claw and reached out before her.
“Confused, the boy and girl held out their hands, and the strange being dropped candy into their hands.”
“Good boys and good girls are rewarded with candy,” Rae said again in the deep voice.
“Then, in a flash, it was gone.”
Rae flashed her hands out.
Many of the children clapped, a few wanted more, others had questions. All the adults applauded.
Sean played a light and friendly tune.
Dusk was quickly approaching. Despite the children’s protests, many of the adults took their children home to bed. Some would be back later to join in the festival themselves.
It was good to see the children in their costumes, smiling and laughing.
The festival began to wind down just short of midnight. Some had packed their belongings and headed for home. Those who lived in Four Corners made their way to their shelters.
Billy said they were going to hitch up the flatbed and saddle the horses and would be ready to go in ten or fifteen minutes.
Jack asked those who still remained around the bonfire to raise their drinks and take a moment to think of those we had lost over the past year. Only the sound of the fire could be heard as the moment of silence spread. After a moment, Sean raised his mug of beer and said simply,
“Cheers.”
Others responded.
“Salute,” Jack said.
A few said silent prayers.
A few minutes later, Billy returned. It was time to go home.
Entry three
Well, Diary, it appears I have come to the end of my first Composition book. I am somewhat shocked I filled the whole thing! We have come a long way since those first days. Our neighborhood. Four Corners. Even me.
What will the next year bring? I feel both optimistic and a sense of foreboding at the same time.
Diary, see you in the next notebook!
About 1stMarineJarHead
1stMarineJarHead is not only a former Marine, but also a former EMT-B, Wilderness EMT (courtesy of NOLS), and volunteer firefighter.
He currently resides in the great white (i.e. snowy) Northeast with his wife and dogs. He raises chickens, rabbits, goats, occasionally hogs, cows and sometimes ducks. He grows various veggies and has a weird fondness for rutabagas. He enjoys reading, writing, cooking from scratch, making charcuterie, target shooting, and is currently expanding his woodworking skills.
Well done, Marine! We have so enjoyed every entry and even learned a thing or two. We wish you the very best and hope to see more of your creative writing in the future.
One bit of copy edit for you:
“I fed them early. With full bellies they are napping in a dog pile on the couch. Didn’t want them underfoot at the festival.
—–
Needs end quote.
Ah, ratz! I was in the middle of fighting a cold and had some serious brain fog. After I recovered to a degree, I did a rewrite but must of missed that!
Thank you!
Thanks for a great story! Hope you share Jessica’s second composition book with us.
Definitely want Jessica to continue in a second book, please😍
Thank you for sharing Jessica’s Diary with us. I have thoroughly enjoyed every chapter.
Interesting turn of events. I would think that with scarcity, the fall celebration would be more like the original Thanksgiving, with food and sporting contests. Where would the resources come for costumes, makeup and candy in this new society? Pumpkins would be a source of winter food – does this group have the luxury of using them for a temporary decoration?
Maybe he’s planning to preserve the pumpkins for future uses.
Even if humans would not eat the carved pumpkins, the livestock certainly would.
Sounds like the costumes would have been made out of odds and ends.
Makeup could be made from crushed berries and hog fat as well as charcoal.
Sometimes it is important for mental health to have some semblance of normalcy. Traditions are important for that.
Bravo, Sir! Excellent story, and a happy ending to boot! Hope to see more of your writing!
I’ve enjoyed your story. Thank you for sharing.
Excellent, I have thoroughly enjoyed this!
Thoroughly enjoyed every chapter. I sure hope Jessica has another composition book to write in.
I’ve been reading OP for over a decade…I don’t comment much but that’s my nature… I really appreciate the Saturday shenanigans! Your style (and Daisy’s) is typically what I’m looking for in a post- apocalyptic story. I want something relatable and that maybe I could accomplish myself.
I really appreciate what you’ve done. Your writing is easy to read, suspenseful and educational. Please keep going!
Thank you very much! I have read some other post apocalyptic fiction that was just . . . bad. So, I wrote with the idea of it being more relatable to not just preppers, but people in general.
“The strange being raised from the pumpkin patch….” Why wait ’til SHTF?… Good kids story for a fall campout, too! Good story, all the way through, Marine! Two thumbs up!
Blessings
OD
Also, good lead in for the sequel??? Or is 22 the last part?
When will it be published… I’d like to get a copy.
Again, well done!
OD
Working on a final “book” version per all the OP commenters requests!
Jessica will start her second composition book later. I need a break to plot out where I am going to go with it.
Thank you!
Every community needs time to enjoy its friendships, make new acquaintances, and deepen old ones. This builds stronger relationships and understanding. They have been through a lot together but the good times build the sense of community that holds it together.
I’m enjoying the storyline as it unfolds.
Interestingly, some here are build a community for their prepping while others build on the loner idea. I like the idea of a community with a depth of different services still available. But there are so few like-minded people I’m not too comfortable with a group for that purpose. Yet I’m in the middle of building a new church family in our small town. And I’m pleased to see folks lingering to get acquainted while everyone pretty much pitches in putting things away and folding and stacking the chairs in our rented space. We only have the space from midnight on Saturday to midnight on Sunday but currently we are only having morning services. For The Christmas Program we will have a full day of activities and food on December 15th and Christmas Eve we will have a midnight Candle Light Service. People are building relationships and some real friendships. Others are posting pictures and talking about activities on Facebook.
It’s funny how food and shared activities do build a sense of community.
I am glad to hear you are building up your own community of like minded people. Takes time but well worth the effort.
Ah, yes! Food and sense of community. I have tried to intersperse different foods here and there in Dear Diary. Mexican. German. Irish. Probably no sushi anytime in the future, but the community is made up of different people from different backgrounds.
Dear Jessica
It’s been fun reading your stories. But you leave us with many questions.
Your family moved to a new house not long before the lights went out. How big is the neighborhood to which you moved? Reading between the lines, it appears to be a very small neighborhood with maybe about 50 houses, maybe fewer. There are farms nearby, separated from your neighborhood by patches of woods, maybe the nearest about two miles away. There is at least one lake, again about two miles away, but in a different direction from the closest farm.
Four Corners, the nearest market area, is situated next to a deep ravine on one side crossed by a bridge. It’s about four miles away. I get the picture that there are about 40 stalls where there is commerce. Despite the fact that your father was an engineer before the lights went out, you seem quite uninterested in the types of production that goes on in Four Corners. What is being produced? What is being sold in the stalls? Clothes and shoes wear out, is there at least one cobbler and a couple sewing? What about furniture? Blacksmithing? Anything else?
Another picture is that there is no fuel for cars. What was done to the cars? Were they used, taken apart, for raw materials to make other things? Was the left over fuel taken to the farmers for their tractors? A deep ravine suggests running water, was some of it diverted to run mini electric generators using generators taken from useless cars? A couple of wheel bearings from a bicycle put into straight wood can make a wood lathe—can be used to make chairs, tables and wooden bowls. A sheet of 3/4 in plywood can be used to make a treadle for a treadle sewing machine, or turned around, a treadle to run a lathe. Where there’s water, often some clay can be found—pottery which can be fired in the oven that your father built. Can you think of other ideas? I’m curious. What’s being made at Four Corners?
After the initial shock, it seems that people are settling down into a routine of rebuilding a society.
They need a blacksmith too, and someone to make charcoal to fuel the smithy.
A waterwheel would be great, if there is a spot for it.
Should look for sulphur deposits and collect saltpeter from piles of animal dung/urine. Along with charcoal these can be used to make explosives and gunpowder.
Wonderful story… Thankyou.
A good ride. Sorry to see it came to an end..
umm…it’s been almost a month…do we get the next part soon???