Harvest--Giana

The sound resounded through the night like a shockwave, he couldn’t tell what he would have

feared more: the echo of silence or a response.

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The man looked out of the large window that stood a few feet from his desk. He looked

out seeing the sunset over the autumn trees, immediately knowing that it was time for him to

“clock out”. He’d been doing this same routine for years now, the same start and same end time. The whole thing became more of a background activity rather than a job to mull over for the day. There was a slight change in the monotonous rhythm today though, seeing as there was a strange feeling in his stomach now. He’d been sick many times before, but this felt different, and if that meant he wasn’t sick, he wouldn’t worry about it.

He started to think about this September night as he walked home. People would

probably be out tonight with their fall activities. Celebrating the autumn equinox, going out to

look at the harvest moon, enjoying some apple cider, what have you. However, he was planning for another night in, scrolling through the same three apps and idly sifting through channels. Maybe he would make a more extravagant meal to help with his growling stomach. He silently admitted that he was a bit jealous that most of his acquaintances had plans, but he tried not to let it get to him. After all, if he didn’t put the effort in, he obviously didn’t care enough to make plans, right?

When he finally got back to his apartment, he immediately headed towards the kitchen,

with that feeling intensifying with all those thoughts. Throwing together what leftovers he had in the fridge, including two pizza slices, a small rice bowl, and even what was left of that meal he cooked himself. The one he told himself he would eat eventually, but its mediocrity kept him

from touching it until now. As he ate he began to scroll through his phone, finally getting to what could take his mind off of things. That wasn’t the case, however, as all the posts and videos began to blend into a mess of letters and images, boredom reaching him quicker than he expected.

What did manage to catch his attention though was what he didn’t pay mind to before

now: the chatter coming from next door. It was nothing of note, just indiscernible conversations, and occasional laughter, but tonight it was something he was attentive to. He couldn’t understand a word they said, but it interested him nonetheless. As he listened and continued, the interest turned into a hindrance. He shouldn’t even care, he didn’t even know these people, but the noise further intensified strong negative emotions. It was at this point that he snapped out of those spiraling thoughts to realize that the feeling from earlier did not subside even though he had finished eating everything he had made for himself. And with the noise only taking up more space in his brain, it started to become overwhelming. He finally got up to get away from what he thought was causing the new pressure in his head, heading further to the outside of his apartment.

He stumbled out of the doors of the complex, thinking maybe if he got some fresh air the

pain in his head would stop. But that wasn’t the problem. His head hurt, sure but what

concerned him was the pain in his stomach. Even after eating all of that, the pain there felt

hollow, like moving caused his body to rattle and echo from within. One word kept pounding in

his head despite doing what he could to satiate it: hunger. The pain and pressure in his body

and mind eventually manifested in a resounding cry from within him. His surroundings blurred

as he felt his body begin to shift. His stomach sunk into itself, and his body felt sharper, with

pointed joints, barbed hands, even skin that felt splintery and elongated. The harvest moon

shone down on him now, with a form that sought something that could finally put the hunger to

rest.

This new creature leaped to find higher ground, scanning the parks and streets near the

building. There were some people a short way away. While he was aware of what had

happened, his mechanical movement and this ache dulled his reasoning and rightful concern. A new string of thoughts replaced this logic instead. He had been trapped doing absolutely

nothing for so long. Nothing of worth, nothing but menial tasks to keep his brain and hands busy, the same things day to day. Things that while useful, would ultimately mean nothing to him in the long run. He now realized the ache wasn’t only hunger, it was longing.

Hearing those around him find something of worth in their lives, through company or

through achieving dreams. He didn’t care to go out and actually do what they did, now finally

figuring out why. He wasn’t even sure of what he could do to achieve what he wanted or to

make a connection that would give him worth. He couldn’t harvest the fruits of his labor if he

didn’t have something he actually wanted to plant. Now looming over an area with some people gathered, he would surely find something. If he couldn’t realize true potential and aspirations for himself, he would have to tear it out of someone who could.

The next motions were swift and methodical, motivated but still clouded enough so that

he couldn’t reason a way out of it. He spotted someone he recognized immediately strolling

through the park. Graham Pryce was a well-respected member of the community, acquainting

himself with those who happened to meet him while he was out, even sharing bits of his poetry

and writing. A life so full and valued, connecting and of worth to so many others, that ache in

him magnified to an unbearable degree. From behind Pryce, he struck with slashes, quick

enough for the older man to not see it coming, but long enough for the realization to hit.

There was no scream, he might not have been able to, but when Pryce’s fearful eyes

met the other, he finally started to feel “full”. With the sensation of hunger fading, the weight of

the situation finally started to dawn on him. He stood in front of the man whose life was now

fading, and the shock of his actions now struck him. He tried to speak, but only shaky growls

and shrieks came out. He tried to speak louder, which only resulted in more of the same noise.

Finally all of the attempts to say something culminated in a prolonged howl of remorse.

Emanating like a shockwave, the own force of it stunned him back into silence. A small part of

him feared the lonely silence, but something even more terrifying broke it.

The echoing answer of another similar howl, and another resounding shriek further off in the distance.