15:00 ~ The West ~ 日

    A small road leading up to it, the cemetery lay dormant on higher ground - ground composed of decomposing flesh. Very little living flesh ever visited their beloved corpses any more. The thick rural air and dominating trees had become a suffocating curtain around the site, leaving no need for a barbed wire fence to conceal what unfolded there on special, special evenings.
    A gust expressed itself along the main path through the graves, whipping up leaves so deadly crisp and fast that it could have slit the throat of any unfamiliar, unwitting mourner. Unfortunately, no such pig existed within three miles from the outer wall. Where the hallowed dirt ended - such a useless, wasted blessing.
He, a young, strong, handsome man, propelled himself over the uncertain terrain with his able legs, and knowledgeable mind. He carried his groceries, which were mainly vegetables, over the lumps and bumps in the soil to the heart of the graveyard. He was home.
    The groceries always took so long to collect that Jack got bored. He prayed for action. He didn’t want anything naughty or scandalous, but just something in which he could take pride and really feel everything. Only one thing Jack knew of could satisfy these things.
    The stone mausoleum appeared to crouch and bury itself into the ground like a distressed rodent. Its mouth and jaw served as an ugly, foreboding entrance to the world that existed under the hill. Some might say underworld, some might say hell, but this was the home of Jack - decorated with and also home to his beloved family. They waited so faithfully for his return. They worry so much, they tell him, when he is away, for their loving voices echo around Jack's mind even when he is not directly in their presence. However, they also do not wish Jack to give up his great work. They adore the pride he takes in it and hope he carries on for a long, long, long time.
    The candlelit room was such a perfect image of the macabre and so beautiful. After all, it was the height of the season for Jack and a time that he looked forward to the most out of the whole year. The glorious stench of decay was met only with the deepest shades of red and orange and purple. Artefacts and decorations lined the walls and tables. One of the most prominent was a Calaver Catrina, constructed from a real decomposed corpse. She wore a brown headdress made from leaves, due to the lack of flowers. Her slim figure cast dancing shadows on the wall as the dozens upon dozens of candles flickered in a stale air current from the caverns below. Further along were a school of pumpkins, freshly carved and lit, with faces which matched those made by Jack's deadly still family.
    Jack enjoyed the fact that he shared his name with those particular objects - Jack'o Lanterns. He was fascinated by their transformation. Thinking of how, prior to meeting Jack's knife, they were all just pumpkins made him giddy. Now they watched him and looked after him. They gave him advice, counsel and the energy that he required to carry on with his work.
    This feeling of euphoria aroused Jack. He decided that now was the time. He would have a lot of preparation to do soon, but for a few minutes, he would celebrate.
    In the corner of the room was his bed, lying next to the door to the passages below. The sheets were pulled back and just as he had left her, his wife lay. Her name was Mary. Jack didn't know why he decided upon that particular name, other than it suited her.
    To him she was the personified image of peace and beauty. She always looked her best for him - with his favourite colour, deep carmine, on her lips. Her skin was grey and stiff all the way from her face to her pretty feet. She was wearing a light shirt, loosely fitted, that just covered her breasts. The shirt ended with a small, delicate, patch of hair that distorted what lay beneath.
    Her thighs extended in different directions, welcoming him. She always welcomed him.
    Jack began to undress in front of her when he noticed his mother’s eyes. He went over to her in order to pull down her eyelids. She did not resist. Although Jack could hear her trying to speak to him, she couldn't. Jack rapidly sewed her lips tight together, for he new that it would be wrong to make Mary wait. She had done for long enough.
    He was naked now. A man. He bent down and kissed Mary. A tender yet forceful kiss. It did not take long. They were both ready. He entered.

    Strike. Strike. Tree cutting, with a sharp axe, relieved Jack’s frustration. Dust and chips pummelled his face, occasionally stinging. This physical pain was enough to block out the new emotional pain that had occurred in the tomb
    Earlier, in the bed, in his uncontrollable fire of an orgasm, Jack had broken Mary. Why didn't she love him any more? Jack did not know. He would not force her to do anything. If what she wanted was to be away from him, then away from him she would be. Jack understood now more than ever what his mother had told him all those years ago.     'Jack, now,' she would begin, 'You mustn't ever force yourself on anybody, especially a woman. We are all fragile creatures and we don't need a bulky man's funny stick making us hurt. Do you understand?'
    He didn't, and wouldn't until much later, but he had nodded regardless. If only her neck had been less fragile, it may have weathered Jack’s great passion. But she couldn't hold on any longer. It was a sacrifice. She - he let her go.
    The thick line of the tree trunk was now broken by the black line of Jack’s blows to it. Snapping sounds reverberated around as the helpless tree bowed, startling hundreds of birds. The low sun was now in Jack’s eyes, where the tree had once blocked it out. Beams shot past him as he looked past the woodland. Past the boundary, he could see a field. Calm it was.

    The cemetery was still now. The red of the sky matched that of Mary's lips. Of the two greatest hills in the cemetery, one at each end, Jack sat on the West one. He would watch the sunset and then begin his journey. The great glowing sun disk, Aten, crept from the East across the sky, only to be swallowed, leaving darkness in its wake. It would start its journey through the underworld just as Jack would start his.
    He had dug for her a hole and lowered her in gently. He poured the dirt back into the hole with his spade and it landed between her legs. The earthy sheets would cover her tightly for all time.
    So why didn't she stop talking to him? Her voice was all he could hear on the hill. He hated her. He had taken nothing from her but that to which he was entitled. Jack resolved that he would find a new lover tonight. He would find new friends - Jack's friends. Tonight it would all change.
    The sun was now so low that it blasted its remaining light onto the hill and left the rest of the Earth in shadow. It sank - further and further - like a once great ship. And then it was gone. Jack imagined a beacon ringing out across the lands to let them all know. It was gone and he was coming.