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Fall Fun Turned Rotten

By Gabriela Perez

Initially, I was nervous to sign up for the Fall Harvest Festival but did so, as I needed the community service hours. I showed up around three o’clock, ready to work a six hour shift with those I thought would be cute little toddlers. When I arrived, the head organizer, clad in a police costume, directed me to the haunted house where I would presumably be spending the rest of the evening.

I had been told to dress in a scary costume, so I took the opportunity to go all out. I tried to dress like a zombie, wearing a black gown with long sleeves and a creepy mask. I was assigned to the task of spooking the people coming through the haunted house and occasionally throwing zombie brains (Jell-O) on people.

After a few hours my feet ached, and I longed for the dreadful evening to be over. The screaming of little children was intolerable and my head hurt. Nonetheless, I continued, grimacing, throwing, and screaming over and over, in a repeated process.

Eventually, around 9:00 P.M., a time I automatically assumed was beyond the bed time of young children, a small boy, about five, wandered in. He had curly blonde hair and his eyes were an innocent blue. The moment I saw him I instantly recognized him. He was my cello teacher’s son, David! David always appeared to be so sweet and angelic that I could not help but attempt to befriend him.

Without thinking, I approached him, exclaiming his name. An expression of horror crossed his face, which seemed odd. Just as I knelt down to give him a hug, my entire bucket of Jell-O emptied itself onto his beautiful head of hair. He immediately grabbed the bucket and began whacking me on the head, shouting. Soon, my costume was in shreds, my mask discarded on the ground.

Suddenly, the lights flashed on, revealing me with no costume, covered in Jell-O, and a hysterical expression on my face. The young children surrounding me stared and gasped in wonder. Then, all at once, they began to cry and scream, as though all of their dreams had been crushed.

I could feel the hysteria building inside of me, so I sprinted for the exit and dashed to my waiting car. I sank back into the car seat, reflecting on how rotten the festivities had turned, just like those unpicked apples which lay strewn about New England orchards in mid-October. After this experience, I’m already apprehensive about the upcoming Winter Festival, but at least I can leave the zombie costume and Jell-O at home for that one.