A few quick minutes later, the car turned off onto an even narrower back road, where it went on slowly for another minute or so, bumping and swaying over pebbles, rocks, and branches strewn on the ground, and eventually descended a driveway on the left side. Here, the man driving it, Jacob’s father, finally laid it to rest with a simple turn of the key. The engine switched off and then there was a slightly unsteadying silence that seemed to stretch for miles in each direction. Jacob, fifteen years old and naturally talkative, addressed his father for the first time in what seemed like hours.
“Dad, is this it?”
Matthew Langley remained facing forward, his tired, gray eyes sweeping land far to near: the rolling landscape, adorned with greenish-brown hills and dotted with the occasional stone-faced house, then the sizable front lawn with its nice flowers and bushes, and lastly the stone walkway which led up to the front door. “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “We’re here. Wake up your sister.”
Jacob unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over to where Kathy was sleeping peacefully in the seat beside him, and poked her lightly on her rounded shoulder. “Kathy, wake up, wake up Kathy, we’re here. Come on, get up already. We need to go meet Aunt Holly. Get up.”
Eventually she stirred and raised her head up, her glassy, weary eyes seeing first her father looking out of the windshield, then Jacob staring right at her with his round, curious pupils, and finally, shifting her gaze out the window, the hazy, serene world of Hills County, Virginia, at dusk. “Alright,” she said in her calm, satisfied way. “I’m up.”
They got out of the car and stood in a horizontal line at the foot of the stone walkway. Jacob on the left, Kathy in the middle, and their father on the right. They were all aware that they should probably head towards the house to be greeted by Aunt Holly, Matthew’s sister, but they were singularly captivated by the sunset’s last moments. Matthew took Kathy’s hand, who took Jacob’s hand, and there, standing in the twilight, facing the glorious scene of nature before them, Jacob thinking of the winter to come, Kathy wondering what Aunt Holly would be like, and Matthew remembering that morning’s funeral for his beloved Anne, a single tear slowly making its solemn way down his cheek, they relished their last moment of togetherness and love as a family. After what seemed like an eternity but was in reality only two minutes, Matthew broke hands with Kathy and strode down the walkway and towards the stone house, from whose windows shone the inviting, orange glow of candles and from whose chimney rose a column of gray smoke. Through one window, he could see Aunt Holly propped up on a green, weathered sofa, watching television. Kathy and Jacob, perfect angels in the last, waning light of day, followed him to the oak door.
Matthew rang the doorbell, and all three of them heard the beautiful, rhythmic sound of chimes that resonated throughout the house. Through the window they saw Holly stand up from the sofa, turn off the television, and leave the living room. A few seconds later the door opened and Matthew saw his sister for the first time in ten years.
The tears were really flowing now, but Matthew was beaming. “Holly, it’s good to see you again.”
Holly’s eyes widened with surprise, her mouth hung agape. “Oh Matty,” she whispered hoarsely. She covered her mouth with her hands in utter shock. Then her face quickly underwent a transformation and became one of immense joy and delight. “Oh, Matty! Matty!”
She was at a loss for words, and so she embraced him in that doorway, Kathy and Jacob watching. Two generations of siblings gathered beneath that doorpost.
When the hugging and kissing was over, she stood back and looked at her three unexpected visitors. She smiled at Kathy and Jacob. “And these are your children?”
“Yes. Kathy and Jacob. Kathy is six, and Jacob is fifteen.”
Holly gleamed proudly at them. “Nice to finally meet you two.” Holly hugged them both and kissed them both on the cheek. “Now that we’ve met, come in, come in! There’s plenty to eat and drink, and a television to watch shows on. Come in!”
They filed in, Matthew walking with purpose, Kathy and Jacob walking with awkwardness and shyness, stunned by the alien situation in which they found themselves; it’s not every day that a reunion like this occurs. Once inside the kitchen, Holly told them all to sit at the table and make themselves comfortable. Matthew took his two children and sat, his hands resting on the cold surface of the wood tabletop. Holly was hurrying around the kitchen, looking for food to set out. Matthew cleared his throat. “Holly, come take a seat.”
Holly came over and sat across from Matthew and his two children. Then, and very briefly, Matthew described to Holly the events of that sad day; the funeral, the crying, the long drive here. This took all of two minutes. Then: “Holly, I need you to take the children for a few nights. I have some people to see, and several things to do. I can’t explain now, since I’m in a bit of a hurry, but I can do my best when I come to pick them up. I know this is sudden, but please understand me.”
Holly’s face seemed cold and unfriendly for just a split-second, no doubt because of her comprehension that Matthew was up to no good again. He lost his wife, yes, but he has two kids and can’t risk putting himself in danger. But then her face changed rapidly back to one of elation and sympathy, as it had changed so quickly from surprise to glee when she and Matthew had had their lovely reunion minutes before.
She leaned forward and kissed Matthew on the cheek. “Of course I understand. I’ll watch them for you, Matty. You go do what you have to do, be safe, and I’ll watch them.” She beamed proudly again at Kathy and Jacob, who were growing more and more to like this elderly woman sitting before them.
  Matthew smiled stood up from his seat. “Well, I’m going to go then.” He embraced Kathy and Jacob from where they were sitting, and kissed them both on the top of the head. “I love you Kathy, and I love you Jacob. Be good.”
With that, he walked back through the hallway and out the oak door, heavy in its frame. He closed the door softly behind him. He was out and he never came back again. The kids didn’t notice, not even Jacob, but there was a good amount of liquor in the trunk of his car, and a pistol hidden in the glove compartment.

Seen by a depressed and anguished Matthew from the driver’s seat of the car, and by a hopeful and innocent Kathy and Jacob out of the window from where they sat at the kitchen table, the holy sunset came to an end as the crescent sun winked out and fell down over the horizon, into the chasm that lay below.

Nothing but darkness remained.

“Well guys, what would you like to do?”
Kathy and Jacob were sitting at the kitchen table still, watching their Aunt Holly make them cookies. They had grown quite fond of her over the past hour, and they had passed over from the uneasy, rocking sense of alienation that they had felt at first into the reassuring, smooth current of calm ease.
Jacob spoke his idea. “I’d like to go outside and see the backyard, if that’s okay.”
Aunt Holly looked mildly surprised at the strange proposition, yet amused nonetheless. “Sure you can check out the back yard if you want to, I don’t see why not. Just put your coat on first.”
“Thanks.” Jacob got up and put his red jacket on. He slipped on a pair of black gloves, and headed for the door. As he was about to go outside, he heard Aunt Holly’s voice from the kitchen, calling to him.
“Jacob! Do you want Kathy and I to go with you? Or would you rather be alone?”
Jacob considered. “I think I’d rather go alone. Are you alright with that, Kathy?”
Kathy shrugged indifferently. “I don’t care.”
Aunt Holly clapped her hands together. “Alrighty, then. Kathy and I will stay here and watch television while you explore outside. When you come back we’ll have cookies for you.”
Jacob smiled. “Okay, thanks.” He opened the door and left the house.

Outside, it was silent and cold. There were no traces of there ever having been a wonderful sunset, and a cutting wind howled through his hair every once in a while, as sharp as a dagger. The moon, particularly low that night, was subsequently lost behind the dense woods. The result was a deep, searing, tangible darkness that melted into the land like an inhuman presence.
Jacob walked through a garden that rested peacefully behind the house. If he bent down far enough and got close enough to the bushes, he could make out the blues and reds and pinks of the flowers and their lovely petals. Jacob admired such things; he was in tune with Nature like no other fifteen year old that he knew. This heightened awareness and intelligence of his he liked in some ways yet despised in others. It lent him a more intense understanding of the universe and of true beauty, unlike the other kids in his school, whose idea of beauty was the latest hip-hop song. However, it created a separation between him and his classmates, drawing him farther and farther away from popularity and society. Invitations to parties were rare, and girlfriends were out of the question, at least so far.
As he walked amongst the flowers and the bushes, he thought of his mother. His last encounter with her had been in the hospital, a miasma of wires and cords crawling over the tiled floor like the tenebrous silk of a spider’s web, and little cylinders and vessels containing fluids of unearthly color suspended in the air, connected to thin tubes hooked into her veins. She had been smiling, always smiling, wan crow’s feet extending from her eyes in a valiant, hopeful attempt at salvation. Jacob, she had beckoned, holding out her limp hand for him to take. Come. Come to me. Take my hand. Trembling, trying to hide his sorrow, Jacob had walked forward (although to him it felt like he had be floating forward), and grasped her hand. He looked at his mother, and they held that gaze, eyes and hearts connected, for all of ten seconds, never breaking that powerful bond. Jacob could make out tears of knowledge and comprehension in the corners of Lucy Langley’s bright eyes, and knew that this moment would be their last. Come closer, she had whispered hoarsely. Jacob had knelt down all the way, his ear right by her mouth. Don’t be afraid. Jacob nodded, his eyes closed. Don’t be afraid.
Now, standing in Aunt Holly’s garden, all alone except for the whistle of the wind and the encompassing darkness, Jacob felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. He sat down in the grass, next to the flowers, and cried. These were free tears, necessary tears. He thought of his mother somewhere up in the sky, or wherever she was, and about how she always valued the best in life, smiling all the way to the end. Jacob, still letting the tears stream (there was no stopping them once they began), looked down and saw a worm trundling its way along the ground, in the dirt beside a rosebush. It was light in color, and fat. Jacob placed his finger in front of it, barring its passage. It climbed onto his finger and Jacob picked it up and allowed it to crawl across the top of his hand and knuckles. ”You are lucky,” Jacob told it. “You don’t see. You don’t hear. You are oblivious.” He lowered his hand slowly and let the worm off. It took a left into the bushes and thus disappears from this story forever; but not from Jacob’s longing heart. He stood up, dusted off his shirt, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and walked on.
After wandering aimlessly for several more minutes, Jacob came upon a shed in the corner of the backyard, just on the edge of the woods. He walked around it a couple of times, observing the weeds growing up around its sides and the old moss dangling down from its slanted roof. This was an old shed, and it didn’t seem to Jacob like it had been used in over a year. After pacing around it a few more times, Jacob stood in front of its painted door and considered opening it to see what was inside. He decided to look through the window instead. He went around to the side of the shed again, and peered in through the dusty window. In such darkness, he could only make out some of the shed’s contents: a bouncy ball in one corner, a tiny tricycle in another. Other than that, the shed, or what he could see of it, appeared to be empty. Jacob pulled his face out from the window and looked in the opposite direction, facing the monolithic trees that separated Holly’s yard from the utter jungle that was the woods. A piece of paper slipped out of his pocket and floated harmlessly to the mossy ground, where it rested just on the separation line, half of it in the woods and the other half still on the side of the shed and Aunt Holly’s property. He bent, picked it up, and saw that it was just the movie ticket stub that he had kept from the week before. He put it back into his pocket and turned back towards the shed, in the direction of the house.
A face was staring at him through the shed window.
It was pale, wide-eyed, and terrified. Jacob let out a scream and staggered back, tripping over a large rock. The face was trying to speak to him, and, to his dismay and horror, Jacob knew exactly what it was saying: help me. She’s going to eat me.
Jacob got back and up and stood looking at the face, never taking his eyes off of the haggard, petrified visage in the window. He couldn’t move. Help me, please help me, the dry lips whispered through the glass. Finally, Jacob broke his paralysis and staggered back towards the house, turning his back on the shed and the trapped man, only one thing on his mind: Kathy. She has Kathy.

Once by the front door again, Jacob hesitated and then turned the knob.

Everything seemed normal. Nothing was out of place. Jacob walked into the living room and saw Aunt Holly lying on her green sofa; the television was on, but to Jacob, her focus seemed to be somewhere else entirely.
“Hi, Aunt Holly.”
She craned her neck so she could see him, and smiled warmly. “Oh, hi Jacob. Back from your wanderings outside, I see! How was it?”
“It was fine. I like your garden.”
“That’s nice of you. I spend a lot of time back there, planting.”
Jacob was scared out of his mind. As calmly and as sanely as he could, he asked, “Where’s Kathy?”
Holly kept a warm face and said, “She’s in the bathroom. Been in there for a while now, though. I wonder if she’s okay.”
Jacob could feel his heart ready to explode. “Oh, okay,” he said faintly, and thought: What have you done to her, you beast?

Holly stood up from the sofa and walked towards him. She gave him a hug, and patted him on the shoulder. “Do you want some cookies before bedtime?”
Jacob saw this as an opportunity. “Sure. I need to go to the bathroom, and then I’ll go get them. They’re on the kitchen table, right?”
Holly said, “Right.”
Jacob said okay, and went into the kitchen. He had to act fast. He looked around wildly for a sharp knife, and found a large one next to the sink. He turned around to see if he could perhaps find something else, and instead saw what was inside the oven.
He covered his mouth with his hands and his eyes went wide. Kathy’s head, the eyes gouged out and the nose cut off, rested in the oven. The holes where her eyes had been stared at him in what seemed to him to be a judgmental glare. Why didn’t you save me, Jacob? Why? Jacob did all he could to keep quiet, and the only noise that managed to come out was a tiny, high-pitched whine. He clamped the knife tighter in his hand, and prepared to turn around, go into the living room, kill Aunt Holly, call the police, and get himself out of this horror house.
That was when he felt two hands rest lightly on his shoulders. He dropped the knife out of fear, and it clattered on the floor and rolled out of reach. Jacob’s last profound thought was very similar to his penultimate one, and was one of terrible certainty: the leaves are falling, leaves are falling, leaves are falling down.
He felt her face hover down to his left ear, and Jacob Langley prepared to die.
Her voice was cold and haunting.

“Got ya,” Aunt Holly said.