Oh, the rage within me when I
first entered upon the task! Wielding
my knife with such violence that
surprised even myself.

"Ridiculous, superstitious
nonsense!" He had declared. "If not
for tradition, then for her!" I had
responded. He would have none of it,
so I set about my infraction.

I continued the embittered
dissection--all for the love of an
angel--who would be reproachful of my
ungodly acrimony.

Upon completing the first stage of
the operation, I was dismayed with
the state of my hands. I cleaned
them as best I could with my
hankerchief before making the next
slice. It was then that I lost
control of the blade and gashed my
own arm! Once the bleeding was
slowed, I once again began to work on
an eye.

I asked myself questions to take
my mind off the pain. When did I
first begin to loathe my father? For
when I was a child, he had hung the
moon and stars. Was he so different
then or is a child just in love with
the whole world?

Contemplating these, I speculated
as to why I do not feel hatred for my
mother as well. I decided that it was
possible that I have had such
feelings. After all, whilst we
suffered through our lives, she lay
daily, collapsed in her room with
intoxication. Mother often said that
the sherry was her only friend.
Angels and sons be damned! All who
loved her were ignored.

This, though, could be construed
as my father's fault as well. If he
weren't so cold and critical, perhaps
she could bear to be sober.

The devil would choose a loveless
life for me also...ha! I've had none
of it thus far and am determined to
wait as long as I must to find a
loving bride for myself...

Hatred carved the nose.

As I continued to regard my
emotions, it was becoming
increasingly difficult to ignore my
guilt. Perhaps my temper was fueled
by more than my love for an angel,
but for a devil as well? In
wonderment I realized that this could
be true.

"Emotions can confuse and fog up
the mind when there are more
important things to be concerned
with," Father would say.

But I ask, how one can ignore the
heart?

When I had almost finished, I
became thoughtful of what might be
the punishment for the action I had
taken.

The project was completed just in
time--for I heard the pattering of
small feet coming toward me. Then it was there; the heavenly face
surrounded by a halo of reddish blond hair. A smile as bright as a
thousand candles greeted me and my
work. Any punishment was worth such a sight!

I stood and she flew as though she had wings to match her demeanor, into my arms. Her's were wrapped tightly
about my neck and I took in the sweet smell of my angel.

"Oh Barnabas! It's the best
pumpkin I've ever seen!" She
squealed.
"It is a jack-o-lantern, Sarah,"
I corrected.

"Will it really keep the evil
spirits away?" She asked so
sincerely.

"You know that is merely
superstition, sweet sister," I
replied as I set her down with a kiss
on the cheek. She walked to the
hideous orange head and her eyes
sparkled with such marvel.

It might have no affect on evil
spirits, indirectly however, the
jack-o-lantern had managed to cast
away the darkness in my heart.

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