Pumpkin Carving
I hate it when there’s blood on my hands and when it gets underneath my fingertips. That’s the worst part. Sometimes I don’t understand why I do this, but I have to release this wave of strong emotions that surges through me.
This was my first kill of October, the only month I go out and hunt. She was a diva with a wealthy sugar daddy. Nobody knew her secret online; they just believed she was a social media star. She shared professional pictures of herself wearing designer clothing as well as a lot of pictures of herself in bikinis taken at five-star resorts.
But tonight, I will allow her genuine light to shine so that everyone can see the truth.
I take out the fake ones. The ones who portray their lives in a favorable light through photos and posts. They are competitive and want to appear to have successful relationships, successful careers, celebrity lives, perfect looks, and adventurous travels.
Blending in was never an option for me. I’m quite awkward and I don’t know how to talk to people. When I’m around others, I become easily overwhelmed and I get tongue-tied. I always yearned for friends as a child, but I was the odd one out on the playground.
At recess, I sat by myself on a bench and daydreamed about fitting in with the other children.
My best friend was my mother, and she still is to this day. My mom always gets me; she’s so loving and gentle and puts up with all my nonsense. I was not the easiest child to raise, especially without a father. The meltdowns I had as a child were extremely bad and kept my poor mother from going anywhere.
I still have meltdowns today. These are aggressive panic attacks that I cannot control. My body seems to be trying to flee the insanity when I freak out. To block out louder internal noises, I fidget, weep, and hum. I am getting a lot better at managing them, and creating lanterns out of humans every October helps throughout the year.
Halloween has always been my favorite time of year, with the crisp leaves on the ground, wearing warm cozy jackets and pumpkins. Making Jack-O-Lanterns out of pumpkins was my favorite childhood hobby and the first thing I ever showed interest in.
When I was seven years old, I assisted in carving my first pumpkin with my mother. I enjoyed pulling out the insides since they were so sensory-rich. Although I never wanted to get my hands filthy, I liked the way the seeds and stringy orange wetness felt between my fingertips.
That year, my mother brought me back ten extra pumpkins to carve since she was so happy for me.
A candle, a spoon, and a carving knife were all I needed to be happy.
I carved every single one of them and placed them on the front porch, except one, which I placed in my bedroom.
The captive wick was lit all night.
I enjoyed the way it flittered in the dark, seeing the sparkling eyes illuminating the ceiling as I gazed up in my bed, and the sound helped me sleep peacefully.
My mother nicknamed me “Jacky Jack-O lantern.”
I am a 33-year-old club host at the Neon Carousel, one of Baltimore City’s most upscale clubs. I’m in charge of accepting reservations for VIP tables, handling check-in at the door, and maintaining the guest list. I find most of my lanterns here, and I don’t have to converse as a bartender would.
This club primarily attracts young people, but it also draws couples and singles in their 30s and older. The best thing is that, if someone stands out, I can search for them later on because I’m pretty good at memorizing ID names.
I observe them taking selfies while they strike twenty different poses to capture the ideal shot for social media.
At home, I’m accustomed to my routines; I eat the same breakfast every morning, which is a chocolate-frosted doughnut with sprinkles. Any other type of breakfast is unacceptable. I always carry hand sanitizer with me, dry each plate with a fresh napkin, and count to 29 before going to bed.
My name is Jack Doxon. Although odd, I am sincere.
(In his bathroom at home, Jack is washing the blood from his hands.)
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