Ghosties, Ghoulies, and Stories That Go Bump in The Night

2003 Long Ridge Website Halloween Short Story Contest

	"Meals on Wheels" at least, I decided. If nothing else, I’d keep him from starving.

The Rabbi’s Trick or Treat

by Jerry Nedelman

The Hasidim don’t celebrate Halloween. It’s for the goyim, they tell their children. And this year Halloween night was Friday night, Shabbos, when the Hasidim withdraw even further from their worldly neighbors, behind their lit candles, into their prayers.

Yakov and Tzvi, two rabbinical students, hurried down Sussex Avenue from the Rabbinical College. They were invited to the Rabbi’s for Shabbos dinner. Rabbinical students always rush when they are outside. Outside is what they pass through going from one house of study to another. Even the Shabbos meal was about study. Although they honored the Rebbetzin’s honey cake, they really prized discussing the week’s Torah portion with the Rabbi. This week’s portion was Noah. Would the Rabbi condemn Noah’s weaknesses or praise his righteousness?

The Lubavitcher Hasidim, generally associated with Brooklyn, put their Rabbinical College in suburban New Jersey. When the affluent neighbors, even other Jews, see the hurrying, black-hatted, black-coated men, they worry about property values. This Halloween night, though, the two students were almost invisible in their blackness.

They turned onto the Rabbi’s street. Engrossed in discussing one of the day’s lessons, the two dark men collided with a small figure in red and blue, who fell down and started to cry.

Mrs. Scharfstein picked up her son. "You people!" she yelled. "Watch where you’re going."

"We’re very sorry, ma’am," Yakov responded. He and Tzvi tried to maneuver away.

"You people think you own this neighborhood," Mrs. Sharfstein said, blocking their retreat. "Well, you don’t."

"No, ma’am."

Just then Rabbi Ehrenberg turned the corner. He, too, was returning from the College, more slowly. The Rabbi’s girth suggested he enjoyed a lot of his wife’s honey cake. A gray beard hung from the smile wrinkles on his face down to his chest.

"Hello, Mrs. Scharfstein," the Rabbi said. "And hello, Spiderman. I hope you’re keeping your mother safe this night."

Yakov and Tzvi exchanged a look. The Rabbi knows from Spiderman?

"Rabbi, you should tell your students to watch where they’re going," Mrs. Scharfstein said, somewhat more quietly.

"Mrs. Scharfstein, you’re right. I promise it will be in my next sermon." Rabbi Ehrenberg winked at Yakov and Tzvi.

"Now tell me, Mrs. Scharfstein," he continued. "Have you lit Shabbos candles tonight?"

"What, I should leave candles burning while I go traipsing around the neighborhood?"

"No matter. You and Spiderman come inside to my house. You’ll have some grape juice and some challah and you’ll say the blessings. Those will be your trick-or-treats for God. And I’ll give you some honey cake and I’ll give Spiderman some Israeli bubble gum, and that will be my trick-or-treat to you."

"Can we Mom?" Billy asked. "Israeli bubble gum?"

Mrs. Scharfstein pursed her lips. Then she broadened them into the kind of smile she would give her grandmother. She turned and carried Billy toward the Rabbi’s house.

Rabbi Ehrenberg looked at Yakov and Tzvi. He raised his hands, wiggled his fingers, and said "Boo!"

Dark Descent by Jean Lauzier

Candy knelt and strained to see into the darkness. A small whimper drifted up from the depths in answer to her calls. Her stomach turned as she fought a wave of dizziness and called down, "I’ll get you out, I promise." She turned toward the marshal, "Jack, we can’t wait three hours for rescue to get here. We have to do something now."

Jack, still in his scarecrow costume, nodded his head as he stared at the hole. "Thomas, you said you were going climbing Saturday right? Do you have your gear with you now?"

Thomas stepped forward, "It’s in the back of the Land Rover, which also has a winch. You can lower me down with no problem."

Candy turned toward them. "I’ll go. I’m smaller so I’ll have more room to move around. Just give me a good flashlight." She looked into the darkness and gave a small shiver. Hope there aren’t any bugs in there. Moments later Thomas handed her the climbing harness and helmet. "I didn’t know there was any place to rock climb around here." Her hands trembled as she adjusted the buckles.

Thomas smiled, "Well, there isn’t any place around here, but I’m on vacation starting tomorrow." He checked the buckles, adjusted the helmet, and then attached the cable. "Now, just slide your feet over the side and let us lower you down."

Candy watched the sides of the well come up over her head, her heart pounding in her chest and felt the darkness surround her. She shined the flashlight down, but the beam only faded into the blackness. Her stomach lurched as she looked up at the fading light. "Don’t look up...pay attention to what you are doing...Becky, I’m coming...just a few more minutes and we’ll both be out of here." Her words echoed around her, bounced off the wall of the well then drifted away. As she followed the beam of light into the dark, the dampness clung to her. The stale, musty air tickled her nose and she stifled a sneeze.

Time crept by as she continued downward, the chill growing more pronounced as she descended. She heard another whimper, this time closer. "Hold on sweetie, I’m almost there." But still there was only darkness below her. She searched below with the flashlight, and sighed. "Finally!" The light shone back revealing Becky’s face, dirty and scared; a torn, filthy mattress and a skeleton. "Oh sh...." She dropped the flashlight and watched as it landed by a bone. "Oh geeze..."

Her foot landed on the mattress and she gave a tug on the cable. Picking up the flashlight, she brushed the hair from Becky’s face. "Hi, my name is Candy and I really like your skeleton costume. Bet you are ready to get out of here." She gathered up Becky in her arms, stood and gave two tugs on the cable. She watched the light grow brighter as they rose upward and thought, I hate Halloween, and skeleton costumes.

Ghost’s Goodbye

by Roberta P. Broussard

The little girl ran flying home with her pigtails caught in a whirl like a hummingbird rotating in a stiff wind. Rachel needed to make preparations for Ghost’s goodbye party. She had read in an encyclopedia about the holiday Samhuin and the Day of the Dead, so she knew that today was the perfect time to say goodbye. Rachel knew in her heart that she had to let go of Ghost. She thought it was even better that Halloween was Ghost’s birthday.

Rachel got home, picked up the Blue’s Clues plates and Clifford napkins as well as the punch and two cupcakes with little ghosts on top of them, and carried the party favors outside next to the apple tree seedling. You had to have party favors for a party. Her mom had suggested they plant an apple tree over Ghost’s grave, so he’d have food to eat in the afterlife. Apples are supposed to be food of the dead, and Rachel was glad that Ghost wouldn’t go hungry.

Rachel turned on the CD player and began playing some Savage Garden as Ghost liked their music. She sang the lyrics as she imagined his otter tail thumping in time to the music. Labs—especially the yellows—had wonderful smiles, and she could imagine Ghost smiling to the music. Her heart hadn’t healed from his loss despite her mother’s efforts to explain that Rachel would be reunited with him someday. Small comfort because he would never play Frisbee with her again, she thought. Rachel hoped the party would let her truly say goodbye; Ghost had only been dead three months.

As she sat there listening to the music and staring at a slightly wrinkled picture of the two of them that she had pulled out of her pocket, Rachel remembered crying as her dad took him to the vet to have a tumor removed from his neck. She had hugged Ghost, and he had licked her face. Her father brought him home in a small pine box; he knew how much she loved that dog. They buried him and then planted the apple tree seedling over his grave.

Legends said that apple trees are associated with death. Rachel smiled at that thought. Ghost could haunt her back yard forever; all of the happy memories of his life would be remembered when she looked at the tree. A teardrop fell onto the picture of Ghost that Rachel held. She danced around the tree as more tears fell; she knew he would want her to be happy for him. The sorrow was gone and the memories remained—perhaps his spirit haunted the tree after all. She said goodbye for now to her best friend—her tears transformed into a smile.

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Rich in atmosphere and some very very nice description, we have stepped from this world into the world of imagination…well, at least echoes of that world! Our minds are larger than we are at times! Trick or treat!

SPOOKED

By Roberta W. Garcia

Sudden sound had interrupted the goodbye. Angel startled back from Sunny as
they both glanced around. Almost immediately Sunny let out a high giggle.
"Aren't we silly gooses!" Her voice sounded warm and chummy, a rally for
co-conspirators. "It's just the night wind rattling the back porch windows
again," she laughed. Angel relaxed slightly. "Wait, you forgot your book."
Sunny disappeared back inside her house, returning moments later holding the
black volume. She handed it over to Angel, finishing off with, "See you in
gym class tomorrow." "Right," Angel mumbled, and turned abruptly to scurry
down Sunny's back steps. She turned right at the bottom and stepped out
onto the empty roadway. Hundreds of tiny leaves whispered mystery in the
chill night air. The many trees at the sides of the road crowded her vision
with palpable shadow. As she moved forward her own footsteps rose up from
the pavement to taunt her with echoes from a tangled sound-wall of brittle
branches. She shivered in the meager cotton of her blue jeans and tee
shirt. Overhead the sly smile of a jack-o-lantern moon slipped in and out
between invisible clouds. Escaping its grasp, sickly amber beams trickled
off soulless windows that glowering down at her from the steep walls of a
darkened house crouching on the hill to her left. She strained forward
trying to peer inside the shroud of Stygian murk that disguised the road
ahead. Perversely, the moon disappeared behind its cloud mask. Her thoughts
felt their way into the gloom and down the hill she knew to be there.
Through what seemed to be an interminable distance, her mind pictured where
the yellow glow of her back porch lamp offered memories of warmth and
welcome, like some lone, forgotten Christmas tree bulb. In mid-step, she
unexpectedly stopped. Her head was cocked to one side and she was holding
her breath. She waited. She inhaled softly, but almost gagged. Damp
tentacles of musty stink were rising from the darkness below and creeping
over the right-hand bank. For a second time she thought she heard a
scratching, rustling noise. "Hello?" She wasn't sure she had spoken aloud.
Silence, and then more rustling. Prickling, needle-like tingling started at
the back of her neck and crawled up onto her scalp with a hundred shivery
fingers. Blazing visions of blood-dripping fangs and ripping claws flashed
Technicolor panorama within her soul. She bolted into bat-out-of-Hell
action. Her feet were pounding down her hill in real time, every muscle
stressing toward pure panic. Untidy hairs streamed into her open mouth when
she tried to look back without slowing speed. In one final bound, she threw
her entire weight against the back porch door, turning the handle as she
went, swinging inward. She slammed the door behind her and locked it. Then
she leaned against the porch wall, panting and gasping for breath. A
library book that she had dropped in her haste was lying by her feet. It was
Dracula, by Bram Stoker.

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HALLOWEEN 1998

Michele Russell

The streets felt raw. The sun was bright, but the breezy air was cold and crisp. All was quiet except the occasional leaf pile stirring. It was Halloween 1998. I was doing some campaigning for a local politician. I thought it odd that not a child was in sight, running from door to door collecting candies. Something felt wrong. As I made the turn up Madeline Drive in West Hartford, the air stopped moving. The still silence was deafening and only broken by the sound of chimes. They played no particular tune, and while they sounded beautiful, they brought a chill to my spine. My intuition kicked inside my stomach like a mule. It was as if the world had stopped to allow for a change. Something was wrong.

The evening of November 1^st, I received a phone call from a dear friend, Tommy. We had kept our circle of friends close, and most of us had known each other since 5^th or 6^th grade. A desperate sounding message let me know he needed to hear from me immediately. I frantically dialed every number I knew to reach him, and tears of fear for what the news might be streamed down my cheeks. I finally reached his younger brother, Jimmy, who informed me there was an accident. He knew someone had died, but he was not sure who. My legs gave out and I hit the floor. Who did we lose, who was there, how did it happen, and why? Why?

I heard those chimes again, play the exact same five chords, five days later while I stood in the parking lot of a funeral home. Never before and never since have I felt so certain there was someone, or something, in this great world beyond human sight and understanding. I was back in Schenectady to bid farewell to a friend, a victim of drunk driving, but the drunk driver was another friend who only suffered minor injury. We lost them both, one forever gone from this earth, the other forever changed. After the services, our circle, now smaller, said our goodbyes with tears and deep, long hugs. We lost our immortality and we learned any simple goodbye may be our last.

Today is Halloween. Tomorrow at 2:00 AM it will be the five year anniversary of John's death. Today the sun is shining and the wind has a chill. Little ghosts and goblins are running all over the streets, and I watch them while I stand outside of my office enjoying a cigarette. Every now and then the breeze stops and the stillness weighs heavy on my heart. I can still hear those five chimes in my mind and I am reminded of how fragile life can be. I now believe in the spirits of Halloween, and I find peace knowing John is among them, and he will be there to welcome each of us when the world falls still at our last hour.

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Another personal narrative. Excellent narrative voice, a believable kid, and that larger story? Read between the lines…. J

A Halloween Story

By Linda Della Donna

"I want to be a monster," he said. He rolled his eyes, gritted his teeth, and growled.

"You already are," I said.

He puffed his bottom lip and folded his arms. He didn’t laugh.

"I want to win first prize," he said. "If I wear a monster costume I am sure to win first prize."

"Trust me," I said, "There are too many monsters out there already, and some of them don’t wear costumes." This time, I puffed my lip, folded my arms, and didn’t laugh.

I took his small hand in mine and lead him up the attic stairs. Hanging on a pole were eight men’s suits and jackets that had belonged to my ex-husband. I reached for the green herringbone with matching vest. Then, I rummaged through a cardboard box propped against the wall. Inside I found a white button-down shirt. A lonely plaid tie hung over a curtain rod on the window at the far end of the narrow room. I grabbed it. "Here take this," I said.

"Monsters don’t wear ties," he said.

"Don’t be so sure about that," I said.

In the living room in plain view of the cat and dog, I dressed him. I buttoned the white French cuffed shirt and placed elastic garters on each sleeve. I measured the length of the pants against his legs, cut and hemmed them to size, helped him step into them, and buckled a brown leather belt around the gathered waist. I rolled the sleeves of the jacket and tucked them inside at the wrists, exposing wiggling fingers and hands.

"Give me the tie," I said. I didn’t see the look on his chubby-cheeked face as I slid the satin fabric under the shirt collar, drew it forward, and tied a Windsor knot.

Kitty’s eyes got big as saucers. The dog left the room.

"Where are your old sneakers?" I asked.

"These are my old sneakers," he said. "Remember?"

I took the scissors and cut out a U in the backs, stuffed the toes with newspaper, and placed his feet inside, heel first. Then I stretched the laces to the front of his ankle and made a bow. "We’re ready," I said. "Time to go."

That evening, 28 second-graders dressed as purple and green monsters stood on a stage and watched in awe as the North Castle Fire Chief pinned an orange and black ribbon on the lapel of the kid with his back to the audience. I saw his blue eyes glisten as he peeked over his shoulder.

"Yes," I said, to the mother of a monster seated next to me, "The kid dressed as the backwards man is mine."

Later that evening, the Backwards Man said, "Thank you." This time we both unfolded our arms and gave each other a hug.

Happy Halloween!

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TRICKED AND TREATS

BY

Frank Dam (bud)

"Dad, are you coming?"

"Yes Alex, just give me another minute."

"What’s taking you so long anyway?" Alex walked over to the kitchen door and looked in.

His dad was just closing the cupboard where the odds and ends were kept. "I was looking for the flashlight. When I finally found it the batteries were dead so I had to stop and change them."

"Why do we need a flashlight? Mom never used one."

Because there will be a lot of traffic coming through the neighborhood tonight and I want to make sure the drivers will be able to see us."

Alex picked up the mask that went with his costume and said, "Okay dad, lets go."

"I still think it would be better if you just painted your face, Alex. It’s hard to understand what you’re saying when you have that mask on."

"But I really need it, dad. I’ll explain later. We’ve only got an hour to trick or treat and I want to stop at Joey’s house for a couple of minutes." Alex put the mask on and stepped out the door.

"Where does Joey live?"

"I’ll show you when we get there, dad."

"I really can’t understand what you’re saying, Alex…I guess you’ll just have to point to where you want go."

As they made their way down the street Alex kept pointing to the houses. His dad waited at the curb while Alex went up to the doors to get his treats. They had reached the end of their street and started back up the other side when Alex tugged on his dad’s sleeve. He lifted his mask and said, "This is Joey’s house and I need to go inside for just a minute."

"Isn’t this where that young widow lives?" his dad asked, but Alex was already on his way to the door and didn’t answer him.

Alex went inside and closed the door then a couple of minutes later he came running back out and pointed to the next house. They finished going to the rest of the houses on their street and then did two more streets before his dad said, "I think that should be enough, Alex. You’ve got that bag almost full."

When they came back by Joey’s house Alex pointed and ran up to the door again before his dad had a chance to say anything. Again he was back out in just a couple of minutes.

They had been home just long enough for Alex to remove his costume and dump the treats onto the table so his dad could check them, when the phone rang.

Alex picked it up…"Hello, oh, eh yeah, okay, he’s right here…"

His dad took the phone. "This is Mr. Johnston, may I help you?"

"This is Peggy Kelly—Joey’s mom— I just wanted to thank you for taking Joey trick or treating tonight. And, I understand you’re a widower… Perhaps we could get together for coffee sometime."

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Chilled To the Bone

By Heather Foll

She always had a bit of a paranoid-streak that coursed her veins. The streak would run its course usually by nightfall. Prompting her to snap shut open blinds as evening fell for fear of being an all to clean target for a sniper. She would even debate whether to lock her bedroom door at night. Left unlocked, an unknown face of terror could creep upon her as she slept, and keeping it locked may resign her to true paranoia that she couldn’t even deny. Her friends always told her that she should be the next Stephen King with the imagination she carried around with her …. An imagination that could be chilling at times.,,, Halloween only fed it… and chilled her.

Halloween this year had been a mild day, the sun dancing skillfully upon the blood-red and gold tone leaves. Luminous days were an overture to serenity, or so it seemed to her. She always loved autumn days like this one.

The last peaceful Halloween she enjoyed was last year; in fact, the weather today had reminded her lot of it. As she lay there, she mutely began to reflect on just hours before as she passed out sugar encrusted candies to the children of the neighborhood. A few suckers to the dragon, some chocolates to the Raggedy Anne and Andy duo, funny how your mind can sift through files of past events that do not mean much in present time. There had been a mild breeze sifting throughout her front porch that prompted her to go back inside for her favorite cable-knit. If only that sweater of hers was of any use now.

As she lay there, unbelievably comfortable despite her usual obsessions, especially on Halloween night, she recalled the smell of decaying pumpkins burning against the heat of the candle that she placed inside of them to illuminate the laughing faces. The lighting of the candles transpired just before her last guest. Whirling slowly from the faces of the now distorted pumpkin features had been the last time spent in the crisp Halloween evening.

Now it was even colder. The ivory cable-knit that once kept her warm was now a stark crimson. Her hair matted in vile clots of what once trespassed within her veins. How exactly did she get to her living room floor? As of this moment, it was as if she had drifted there…somehow… she can barely recall. It was as if it were a dance with that presence. The presence that smelled of earth and ash. A dance of mortality. She could now feel an odd mixture of warmth and coolness within distinctive localities on her body…almost as if she had been bathed with something, although she knew it was her own blood. With each diminishing heart beat her own blood seemed to be both deafening to her ears and the last warmth her body captivated, as thanks to her Halloween visitor, she was now chilled to the bone.

Concentrate

By

Diane Dahlstrom

"Why are these creatures hopping around in my living room?" I ask Jake.

"I told you a hundred freaking times, Uncle Gust, we’re having a Halloween party. These are people wearing customs. Make yourself useful and serve them some drinks." he says.

"Turn that damn music down!" I demand.

"It’s my way or the rest home, Unc."

I head for the kitchen. A girl wearing a pointy hat is pouring booze in my blender. "Get your hands off that liquor, young lady," I yell.

"Pops, I already showed you my ID. I’m thirty-eight. Give it a rest," she says then pushes the blender button.

Her name is either Suzie or Stacy--one of Jakes girlfriends. He’s had many since he moved in with me days or weeks ago. She pours the drinks, puts them on a tray and giggles while handing it to me. " You look adorable in your butler costume. Your silver hair and mustache makes you look distinguished."

"Thanks Tracy,"

"Stacy."

"Whatever. I never wore a mustache until Jake started shaving me."

"He grooms you well, Pops. Now be a dear and serve drinks. I’m gonna dance for a while."

She holds the door and I approach a vampire. "Would you like a pink drink, Sir?"

"Can’t you see? I got a beer," it says.

"Sorry."

I wonder among creatures. A bunny waddles up to me. "Psst. Gust, it’s me, your neighbor Gladys Snivela," she whispers. "I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks but your nephew warned me to stay off your property. I told him that he had no rights with your property-- he told me he’s your guardian. Is that true, Gust?" she says.

"I think so, Mrs. Snivela. Would you like a pink drink?"

"Gust, Jake is driving a fancy new car. He’ll go through your savings like hot cakes if you don’t send him packing. Besides, you should live in a home where nurses will care for you."

"I have to serve drinks, Mrs. Snivela," I say, then head towards a king dancing with a pretty hobo.

"Would you like pink drinks, Sirs?"

"Get lost Old Man," the king says.

The bunny follows me. "I’m going to report Jake to Family Court. We’ll see if we can revoke his guardianship," she says.

"Why don’t we meet on your porch and talk over drinks." I tell her then remind myself to concentrate really hard.

Jake wakes me in the morning. "Time for your shower, Unc," he says. "Did you have fun at the party? Oh, by the way, they found that nosey Snivela lady dead on her porch swing this morning with an empty cup and half a pitcher of pink antifreeze next to her. The old woman must have been more senile than you." He laughs while picking my gloves off the floor and tossing them on the dresser.

"How about we go to the casino today, Son?"

"Sounds like a plan, Unc."

Curiosity

By Lynette DuBois (caretaker)

"You sure she's home this time?" Robbie stuffed another Reese's cup into his mouth.

Ted peered down through the leafy branch. "I saw her drive in, and her car's still there, so just shut up and watch."

"But I'm hungry. It's almost time for supper. How long are we.

"Get out of my tree!" Her billowing black dress blended into the darkness. "I will not be spied upon. Be warned. Trespass again at your peril." Her eyes burned up at them, red in the night. "Be gone," she snarled. "Now!"

The boys dropped to the ground and raced through the break in the hedge. Sprinting toward the house, Ted heard a thud and a groan behind him. He spun and saw Robbie sprawled on the ground.

"Did she get you?"

Rubbing his head, Robbie looked up. "I guess Dad put up his new bird feeder, and I ran into it."

"Let's get in the house. Tomorrow's Halloween. We can try again then.

"We gotta spy on her. If she's a witch, she's sure to do some magic tonight."

Robbie hung back, reaching in his pocket for a caramel. "She was mad last night. Real mad."

Ted sneered at his little brother. "What's the matter? Scared? All right, stay home and I'll watch her fly off on her broom all by myself. Just don't ask me about it, because I won't tell."

Ted peered through the hedge, and seeing no one, ran for the tree.

"Hey! Wait up."

The two boys crept up into the old maple and settled on the big branches. The windows of the old house reflected the full moon. After a while, Robbie began to shiver. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"Then leave. I'm staying. I want to see that witch do magic.\

"And so you shall."

The hissing whisper froze their blood. Again she stood below them, eyes smoldering, a crooked black wand in her hand.

"Trick or treat?" She laughed hoarsely. "No treats here, boys."

"Wait," whimpered Robbie. "We didn't mean any harm."

"A trick, then," she murmured, her wand tracing intricate patterns. "You like climbing trees? So be it."

Light sizzled upwards. Two squirrels bolted through the darkness to the break in the hedge.

"Well, my new feeder should bring the birds, don't you think?"

Mrs. Smith looked up from her morning coffee. "Why, yes, dear. I can't wait to see if the cardinals come. Have you seen the boys yet?"

A scratching sound interrupted her. They turned and saw a squirrel frantically pawing the window.

"I never saw one do that before. Whatever could he want?"

"I won't feed the damn squirrels!" He stomped over to the window. "Look, Emma! There's another one stuffing his face at my new feeder. I won't put up with this for another year."

He stormed out of the room. Shaking her head, she walked to the foot of the stairs. "Boys? It's time to get up."

She flinched at the blasts from the double-barreled shotgun.

By David Alvin: To Reach For

Our children have to walk on their own, no matter how much we fear for their safety. They just need something to reach for . . .

Jack had known nothing for seven years but death, and he spent the night in a pumpkin patch. Vines twined and pumpkins sat as Jack tried to protect himself from the chill night with a threadbare patch of cloth. With some physical legerdemain, Jack tucked himself under its folds, but then a light bothered him. He sought its source, first from half-wakefulness and then in semi-madness as the light seemed to dart up and down and left and right in the starless night. Fireflies? he wondered. But it’s too cold for them, on Halloween night in the Dakotas.

It didn’t get too cold for snow either.

The moon was higher than Jack imagined it could be. On reflection, it looked to him like it was suspended over the pumpkin patch. Off the interstate, miles from the nearest town, Jack saw the light come down on the largest pumpkin in his field of vision. He saw it out of the corner of his eye on the far side of the field. Jack ambled on his wooden feet toward the lit pumpkin. As he reached for the pumpkin, its light darted toward him, too fast for him to wave away.

It wasn’t a peer’s dare, it wasn’t a circus act, but Jack felt like he’d swallowed fire. But it was the fire of a good meal and a warm belly. (That’s what Jack would have thought, if he had known what either sensation was.) But Jack couldn’t eat; he wasn’t built that way.

Even as the light inside Jack died out, another darted for him. He grabbed his head as the light swirled down his throat, and he screamed loudly enough for children to hear. Two ten-year-olds waded through the pumpkin patch, one become Death and the other wishing for it. The one with the scythe pointed the shining pumpkins (or was it the shining vines, or the shining Jack?) to his companion with the patchwork dress. They tripped tiptoeing through this field, far from the path of trick-or-treaters.

Looking up, they saw Jack’s stare bearing down on them. But once again his light went out, and now his head itself sagged. Not with age, but with spoilage, for Jack’s head was a pumpkin, and his body was a wooden network. The children’s brains should have registered a strange scarecrow, but outside of Oz, scarecrows couldn’t move, and this one did. And Jack held in his outstretched hands a peace offering, or a piece of an offering. A pumpkin had been carved in the likeness of the Grim Reaper look-alike. The boy and his companion ran away.

As the death’s-head pumpkin lit from within, Jack shook off his distended head and replaced it with the new one. Jack now wore his first lantern, the jack o’ lantern. It was the face he had reached for.

She is glorious, absolutely regal. The pink floral silk dress gives false life to her complexion. As a young woman, she wore her thick, dark hair in braids upon her head like a tiara. How fitting. As of late, she chose ash blonde for the color of that now shorter hair. Now it is golden like a crown, and still quite stately. Though they can not be seen, her eyes are ice blue. One look can freeze you in mid-step and bring your heart to your throat in fear of what it was it is that she does not like. The statement "if looks could kill" is often more than appropriate. Her skin is as smooth as porcelain. Never was there a glimmer of expression to cross her full lips or to twinkle those blue eyes and to give way to absurdity.

I remember her at open school week when I was a small girl. She sat like a statue in the back of the classroom. Everything about her was perfect. Her back was perfectly straight; her sight focused on the teacher and the lesson. There would not be a fold or slight wrinkle in her attire. Her straight skirt would be pulled tightly across her lap and to just below her knees. Her very ample bosom was high and proud within her tailored blouse and the gray coat she wore would be gently folded and placed behind her. Though her hair was already shorter by that time, it was always perfectly in place as if it dared not to be askew. The only thing to give away the fact that she was indeed human was that her lipstick would not remain in the center of her lips. It would look as though she wore lip liner rather than lipstick. Today, her lipstick is also perfect.

Back then she would roast chicken for Sunday dinner. Father once scolded that all she was having from the chicken was "the puny wings". There were four of us, Father, sister, myself and Mother. She explained "When the time comes to go through the "Pearly Gates", you, having eaten all the drum-sticks will be wandering all around and take the longest time to find your way through. The girls will be crawling on their bellies or "chicken" breasts. I, however, shall be able to enter directly by flying right over the gates without any delay."

It is said that All Hallows Eve, or Halloween, is the time of year that holds the thinnest barrier between this world and the next. Fables tell us that on this day the soul can pass into the next realm the easiest, where by on other days it must remain in a state of limbo until the next turning of the wheel of the year.

Even now Elsie is glorious to view. She is, as always, regal. She will still accept nothing less than perfection. A beautiful, silent mystery, and today, on October 31^st, she is dead. Did she know?

nice example of Other , peering through from the other side of that veil!

==================================

The Halloween Grouch

by Brian (Flash) Taylor
aka: Flashman; Owlybear

"What are you so happy about?" Jeff threw his gym bag and hooded sweat
top onto the tattered armchair. He stretched out his massive frame on the
matching sofa, as he glared at his room mate.
"It's Halloween in four days." Ken picked up his BLT and sat down on
the recliner opposite his sprawled out friend.
"Don't tell me you're into that crap," Jeff scowled back. "Halloween is
a day when you turn out the lights, go to the bar and drink beer, so you
don't have to put up with those little rug rats knocking at the door and
yelling 'Trick or Treat'. I'll trick the little jerks alright," he cackled.
"That's no way to be. They're just out having fun, and I like to have
fun at Halloween, too. I like to see the different costumes and the
excitement, as the kids scurry to all the houses collecting candy." Ken bit
into his sandwich knowing Jeff would retort with some sarcastic remark.
"Geez, man, you're 35 years old. I suppose you dress up and act like a
fool, too. You should have given up that ridiculous idea years ago. I've
lived here for ten years, and nobody's ever seen me carry on like that," the
derogator statement boomed from the macho form on the sofa.
"Well, I like to shell out to the kids on Halloween. I like to decorate
the yard a bit as well, if you don't mind. I'd hate to screw up your
reputation," Ken snorted back, finishing off his sandwich.
"You do whatever you want, but don't think I'll help you," Jeff rose,
grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "I'm going for a beer. You can
play Halloween." He laughed sardonically, as he left.
For the rest of the afternoon, Ken set to work digging out his
Halloween decorations to put them up in the yard and entry of the house. He
enjoyed himself. He figured out what costume he'd wear to greet the 'Trick
or Treaters'. Once his task was complete, he decided to have supper and
relax watching TV.

Jeff returned home after dark; parking in front of the house. In the
yard, green and blue spotlights shone on ghosts, bats, skeletons, witches, a
headstone with a coffin beside it, and scary sounds emitting from two
speakers on the stoop. His yard had been transformed into a haunted scene.
He entered the house.
"You must have lost your mind, putting all that crap in the yard," he
snorted at Ken. "I'm never going to live this down. I'll have to move." He
slinked onto the sofa and stretched out.

A few nights after Halloween, when the two room mates were watching TV,
Jeff sheepishly remarked to Ken, "I got a bunch of compliments on your
decorations. I have to admit, they did look scary. I shouldn't've been so
hard on you. Maybe I should start doing things like that from now on".
Ken sat there smiling.

Glad Jeff got the picture! J

Footsteps in the Dark

By Martha Reed

Shadows crossed her path as she began her lonely walk home. Usually she enjoyed the two-mile trek but tonight was Halloween and there was an eerie quality to the air. "Probably just my imagination," she thought to herself.

As she walked, she let her mind wander. She had promised to take her kids around the neighborhood and to their grandparents to beg for candy and to show off their new costumes. She had put a lot of work into making those costumes. She thought, "It’s a shame they will only be able to wear them for one night. Too bad their dad won’t be able to see how cute they look."

Griffin was a salesman for a computer software company and spent four days a week out on the road. Most of the time he was able to make it home for special events but this was one he would miss.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in warning and she once again became aware of her surroundings. "What was that?" she asked herself. She noticed the chilly air and foggy drizzle that now enveloped the world around her. At first she thought it was her imagination but again she heard what had shaken her from her reverie. The sound was muffled by the fog but it was the unmistakable cadence of footsteps that she heard behind her. She turned her head but the dark of evening along with the fog prevented her from seeing anything. "Good grief," she thought, "someone is following me and I’m still a mile from home!"

Frightened and not sure what to do, she increased her stride but was powerless to overcome the panic that engulfed her. She began to run; faster and faster she ran trying to ignore the catch in her side and her inability to draw a deep breath. She could hear someone calling her name, "Emma, Emma!" but she kept running. Fear had totally paralyzed her mind.

All of a sudden she was grabbed from behind and slammed up against her attacker. She struggled to break his hold. When her mind finally registered that she couldn’t break free, she stopped struggling. She was gently turned so she was facing her captor. When their eyes met she gave a soft squeal and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. "I was so scared," she told him, "that I didn’t even recognize your voice."

Griffin smiled down at her and said, "Emma, I am so sorry for scaring you. We broke away early and I wanted to surprise you so I had Doug drop me off at your office. When I found you had already left, I followed you but couldn’t see you because of the fog."

She gave a deep sigh, returned his smile and said, "Well, you certainly did surprise me. But I am so glad you are here."

He kissed her softly and said, "Come on, honey, let’s go home."

HALLOW - WHAT

by Linda Asato

"Can we go, mom? Please?" my sister and I begged, with my 12 year old cousin, Phyllis, egging us on.

I could tell mom was thinking it over but wouldn't be easily persuaded. To me, it didn't sound like anything much to think

about but that's adults for you. They gotta think everything over carefully as if it were important.

"I did this last year by myself and it was fine." My cousin was up to bat for us. "We'll be careful and only go to houses of

people we know."

That wouldn't be very many, I thought. I mean, how many people live in a lumber camp? Just a few families, a bunch of single

men in bunkhouses, the cook and a school teacher.

Still it sounded like fun, going around getting candy from people.

Finally, Mom said okay and bundled us up for the frosty Canadian weather in parkas covered with funny ghost costumes

thrown together out of old sheets. We set out with Phyllis through the dark to 'trick or treat'.

I admired my cousin. She was twice my age and knew so much more than I did.

"When we get to the door, say 'trick or treat'," she explained carefully as we trudged through the snow toward our first house.

"Trick or Treat!" we yelled at the still and darkened house standing cold against the ominous spruce trees behind it.

"Nobody's here so we have to trick them," Phyllis whispered.

I looked at her in horror. "Do we really have to?" It seemed so mean. What would Mom say if we did something nasty to

someone?

"Oh, We'll just move these boxes against the door so when they come home they'll have to move them back to get in."

We did the deed and slogged on to the next house. This was not getting to be the fun I had expected.

"Come on in." The people in the next home were friendly and laughing at our costumes. "We'll just get you some treats. Be

right back."

In a few minutes, we accepted the foil wrapped treat and excitedly left the house amid the "byes" and laughter.

This was more like it. I could barely wait until we got home to unwrap the goodie to see what we had received. The folks at

that house sure must have liked us because the treat we got was almost as big as an apple. I envisioned a chocolate ball or a

popcorn ball or even a candied apple.

I wanted to go on but my 4 year old sister began to complain of the cold so Phyllis decided we had enough and we returned

home.

"Look, mom," I shouted. "I got a treat!"

We quickly opened up the foil wrapper and I stared at the wrinkly brown thing that lay in the middle. What was it?

I looked closer.

meant.

"Oh no," I lamented. "It's only a rotten potato!"

nice writing…excellent voice! Do narrative! J

Halloween on Earth

By Saskia Faber

I came on Earth for the very first time on a day what they called October 31.

You see, as a young scientist from the planet Simms I have to study humans.

And, oh man! I’ve heard stories about them!

We know that they have rocket ships, those brave humans; they flutter from star to star.

In school I’ve learned that humans seem to be like us; with a few differences: they have a lot of red substance in their bodies and their skeleton is made out of a type of calcium instead of titanium and steel.

When I landed on Earth it was already dark and there came water out of the sky.

My first observation was that humans do not sleep when it is dark; instead, the streets were filled with humans; who were all dressed very different; I even saw a couple of humans who looked like the life forms from the planet Zurr.

Why are they all dressed so weird? Now I am really curious: how does the human organism work? Should I catch some kind of Zurr-human and exam it?

Suddenly, a small human ran to me!

He was holding something in his hand: with a kind of color I never observe on Simms, but it looked very much at the colors of the sun…

" Here, you can have it," he shouted to me. "I’m allergic for peanuts!" Then he pushed something in my fake hand, and sprinted away immediately.

I looked at the letters ‘Reese’s on it.

What was it? I will take it with me, so we can exam it; I thought.

Now, I have to catch a Zurr- human!

I walked around for a little bit and there: I spotted one!

He was walking into a small street: this was my change!

Getting him on the ground with his eyes closed was an easy job; but the search at his life-plug was hard.

He screamed for a while and then, he was out of function.

There was red stuff everywhere. Where is his life-plug? He hadn’t plugs at all!

Then, I decided to bring him back again. But, how? My tools didn’t detect even one single plug.

At a distance, I saw blue lights coming in my direction. And what a terrible loud noise!! What’s going on?

I stood up and walked away from the Zurr-human.

Humans came out their cars with the blue lights, are cars always suppose to make such a terrible noise here on Earth?

They ran to the Zurr-human, who was still out of function.

"My God!" a voice said; "what happened to him! But he is still alive, we can fix him up!"

Fix him up? Without a live-plug? How? I really did not understand what was happening.

Oh yes, humans are so much different then we are, I thought, and I walked further.

Mission Accomplished by Kay Gibson

It began that fall when my teenage granddaughter told me she and some friends had been playing with a ouija board and visiting cemeteries trying to conjure up a ghost.

I didn’t like the sound of this, so I said, "Bring them down, I’ll take you girls to a cemetery." And I thought, "I’ll guarantee a ghost."

"I’ll bring them Halloween night." she said.

Perfect timing. I called a couple of friends. We chose a deserted cemetery on top of a hill above a cow pasture nearby. No one had been buried there since the early 1900's. Since I had a list of all the names of folks buried in the cemetery, I chose Henry to be the ghost in question. I would tell this story to the kids as I took them to the cemetery. I also told my friends my tale. "Henry was an old caretaker of all the cemeteries in the area back in the 1800's. Henry walked around the cemeteries checking them late at nights with his lantern. Henry’s only problem was he loved scaring folks. One night, he decided to scare his wife, Mabel. However, it backfired on him, and Mabel was frightened too death. Soon after, Henry hung himself shortly after.

We didn’t want anyone to get hurt, so we decided not to scare the girls inside the cemetery, but on their return trip to my pickup. One side of the cemetery was a canyon, and the other sides had barbed wire around them.

Our pickup had an automatic start on it, and I gave this to my friends before they hid out near some hay bales in an old barn.

The girls and I parked my pickup along side the road, climbed the wooden gate and climbed the hill to the cemetery. They sang all the way. I asked if one needed to be quiet to find a ghost, but they didn’t think it was necessary. We found Henry’s grave under a large tree, they took pictures, giggled, and read tombstones.

On the way down the hill, the four girls were ahead of me singing.

My pickup started.

Four girls climbed all over me. They searched me for a remote control. I didn’t have one.

We heard a low moan.

The girls pushed me aside, plowed over the gate,(which now had a dirty burlap bag on it and a lantern on the post), and climbed into the pickup yelling, "Let’s get out of here."

As we left, they could see Henry’s lantern shining in the dark.

I brought them home and fixed them hot chocolate and cookies to calm them.

All it took was a little spooking and their imaginations did the rest. One girl had blood on her hands off the gunny sack.(Honest, there was NO blood on it.) Another girl saw Henry’s lantern outside her own home every night for a week. She wouldn’t go out after dark.

They all vowed , "No more ouija boards, no more cemeteries.

Mission accomplished.

A Halloween Coincidence

Linda Popovsky

The clouds swayed back and forth across the half moon, covering it up as they flowed past. The sky had a look as if to say, "Only on Halloween could I look this spooky." Sandy stood in her kitchen with her children, Peg, 11, and Marc 9 helping them put on their costumes. Peg was dressed as Cinderella. Marc was dressed as Batman. Outside, their red colonial style house was lit up with candles placed inside carved pumpkins. A flag above the shingled roof swayed with pictures of witches on it that seemed like they were really flying. A scarecrow was placed at the entrance of the walkway.

*

Sandy's mother died when she was eight. Shortly before she died she told Sandy she was adopted. Her mother said, "We chose you for us, and that makes you special."After her mother died Sandy would go trick or treating with her aunt and her two cousins, Marla and Ashley in the next community. Sandy thought about one Halloween night many years ago when she was about the same age as her children. She dressed as a princess wearing her mom’s wedding gown. Her aunt made a crown for her head. She said to Sandy, "Your mom and dad chose you, and that makes you special like a princess."

Sandy, her Aunt Meg, and her cousins stopped at a house whose trees were decorated with sheets shaped like ghosts. An older woman and her daughter lived there and invited them in to pick out candy from a bowl on the table. The daughter looked at the children with sad eyes as if she were longing to say something. Sandy thought about this woman long after Halloween was over. Something about her was mysterious

*

Later that night while Sandy was inspecting her childrens' treats the Adoption Forum where she was searching for her birth mother called to tell Sandy her birth mother had been found. Could this be the moment I have been waiting for, thought Sandy. She had seen at the Forum that many reunions were magical. On the other hand, she had seen those that did not have a fairy tale ending. Sandy had prepared herself for the latter. She also had surrendered to the idea that a reunion would never take place. Within an hour Sandy and her birth mother were on the phone planning to meet later that night. They lived only a few miles apart.

The reunion worked out. Sandy and her birth mother hit it off. They had so much in common. They liked the same salad dressing. Their taste in music was identical. They looked so much alike. Sandy learned she had twin brothers . Her birth mother planned a reunion with the other members in her family. An eery thing happened that Halloween night also. After exchanging information with each other Sandy realized that the woman who gave birth to her was that mysterious woman she met on Halloween many years ago.

Joanne Reho

Gordon knocked on the door as hard as he could in the hope of getting a quick response from the inhabitant of the house. Three hours of trick or treat time were not much. With so many houses to cover, time was precious.

Dressed in a red polka dotted clown suit, white painted face, and a bright red nose, Gordon was sure his costume was worth more than one treat. On his arm was a puppet dressed in a sailor suit. He stood back as the door opened, and a white haired lady appeared with a bowl full of treats.

"You’re the third clown that has been here today. You kids must have all shopped at the same costume store. Are you sure you haven’t been here before?" asked the old lady after placing a candy bar in Gordon’s bag.

"No, I haven’t. Could I have a treat for my brother? He couldn’t come today, so I dressed this puppet up in his costume." Gordon held the fifteen-inch puppet up for the women’s inspection.

The women laughed. "You must have a pretty small brother. What kept him from coming?"

"He’s not born yet. I thought he would already be here because the doctor told Mom he would come by the twenty-first, but we’re still waiting."

"Babies come when they’re ready. Here’s a treat for your little brother, and an extra one for the big brother."

"Thank you, lady." Gordon stood back as the door closed.

Gordon’s visits to other houses yielded the same result. Two or three treats came to him with each encounter. The big brother scheme worked ever better than a fancy costume. He felt if things continued this way, his treat bag would soon be filled, and there was time to fill another.

Becoming a big brother had advantages because at twelve years old, Gordon’s trick or treat days would soon be over, but his brother’s career would just be starting. The supply of Halloween candy would continue long into the future.

With bags full, he returned home, and was greeted by his grandmother.

"Grandma, where’s Mom and Dad?"

"They went to the hospital a half hour after you left. Your dad called. Something unexpected has happened."

Gordon felt a sudden chill when his grandmother said the word unexpected. Had things gone wrong? Was the baby all right? What about his mother? Did he still have a mother? The promise of continuing holiday treats suddenly seemed very unimportant.

"Gordon, your mother just gave birth to twins. You now have two brothers. I would never have expected this to happen. Twins don’t run in our family."

Kuhar’s Curse by Rebecca Crum

"It’s Ivy Kuhar," said Millie.

Ivy shoved her way through the door without speaking. Her black low-cut blouse exposed the tattoo of a cat over her left breast.

She stared at nobody in particular, yet everyone felt her evil glare. Orange and black crepe paper decorated the room. Gray smoke pillared over the brim of a black pot to accentuate a haunting Halloween theme. Ivy’s presence fit the dark setting.

"I warned you not to have this party," she said in a raspy voice. "Tonight is sacred. It is the anniversary of Willow’s death." She looked at the four teens with scorn.

Jeff looked away. He knew this wasn’t about Willow. Ivy was here for revenge. They met last Halloween when a car ran over her cat, Willow. He helped her carry the cat home and bury it. They dated for a while until he couldn’t tolerate her strange behavior anymore.

Ivy put her hands out with her palms lifted upwards. She closed her eyes. Her voice was deeper than usual. The smoke from the black pot encircled her body and the tattoo on her breast appeared to look fiercely at them.

Feline of destruction, spirit of death,

Let those who doubt me, take their last breath.

As Willow suffered, so shall you.

When she had delivered her curse, she turned and walked out the door without looking back.

"She gives me the creeps," said Barb.

"Let’s forget about her," said Jeff. He picked up the remote and started the ‘Night of Fright’ video.

"Ouch," said Barb. "Something bit me." She rubbed her leg. A shiny black spider sprang from the arm of the chair and disappeared behind the china cabinet.

A loud hissing sound came from the upstairs hall.

"What was that," asked Barb?

"Probably just the wind," said Jim as he looked up the staircase.

"I’m going to get a drink," said Millie as she walked into the kitchen. She screamed.

"Are you okay?" Jeff asked. "What happened?"

"There was a shadow lurking in the kitchen beside the sink. When I turned on the light, it disappeared."

"You probably imagined it," said Jeff.

"Maybe you’re right. I guess I’m a bit spooked tonight."

Jeff stood behind Millie and put his arms around her. Their hearts froze as heavy breathing came from the dinning room.

"Did you hear that?" Millie said as she locked her arms around Jeff’s waist.

"Yes," said Jeff. "Hold my hand, let’s go see." The room was empty. A pair of yellow eyes looked through the window at them.

Millie fainted. Jeff heaved a deep sigh. If he didn’t leave, someone might lose their life. He gave Millie a quick kiss on the cheek and then he walked out the door.

He saw Ivy’s silhouette in the moonlight holding a black cat. As he walked up beside her, it leapt into his arms and nuzzled his shoulder.

"Hello, Willow," he said. Ivy put her arm around him and they disappeared into the darkness.

oooh…spooky! J

Scared to Death

by Blane

Cindy felt like she’d been running forever when she finally stopped to look behind her. Her mother had told her she was too old for trick-or-treating with her friends and maybe she’d been was right. After all, Cindy was almost thirteen, but she’d so wanted to go out one last time.

Everything was fine until Joey had dared the girls to play dingdong ditch on the neighbors. It was fun until they got to old man Johnson’s place. His house looked spooky on a bright summer’s day but was horrifying on a chilly Halloween night. It had been quite thrilling sneaking up the steps to ring the doorbell before running away laughing. Their plans were spoiled however, when Mr. Johnson charged around the corner of the house wielding a shovel, furiously screaming at them to get out.

Cindy had run faster and farther than she had ever run in her life. She was shocked to find herself across town and knew that her mother would be furious if she found out. Now Cindy just wanted to find her trick-or-treat bag and get home. She didn’t care about the candy but her mother had made it special for her last night of trick-or-treating.

She couldn’t think where she dropped it. All she could remember was running for her life. As she neared home she saw flashing lights and people gathered at the playground. Cindy edged through the crowd and saw her mother standing next to a police officer, crying.

Uh oh, she thought, I’m in trouble now. "Mommy!" she yelled, "Mommy, I’m okay. Don’t cry I’m okay." But her mother didn’t look up. In fact nobody seemed to notice her .

As an ambulance pulled away, she heard someone say, "I knew you’d return sooner or later." Cindy turned and was startled to see a man who looked just like her father, who had died four years earlier.

"Hi sweetie, I’m glad I found you," he said.

"You look like my Daddy, mister," Cindy replied.

"That’s because I am your father, Cindy."

"I don’t understand."

"You didn’t get away from Mr. Johnson honey. I don’t think he really meant to hurt you but his rage took over and a terrible thing happened."

"But, I don’t remember him catching me," Cindy protested.

"I know honey. You were so scared that you didn’t feel a thing. You just kept running right out of your body. But I knew you’d come back eventually so I waited here until you found your way back."

Then her father leaned over and kissed her on the head just like the before time and she knew she’d be all right.

"Now it’s time to say a last good-bye to your mother and then I’ll take you to our new home."

Cindy’s mother felt a warm touch on her cheek, like a breeze, there but not quite. She turned but couldn’t see a little girl walking away, hand in hand with her daddy.

TED’S HALLOWEEN

By Terri Gahr

a.k.a. Gypsy

"Myra! Where’s that coffee?" Ted snapped, sticking his head out of his office door.

"Coming right up, Mr. Lansing." Myra muttered through gnashing teeth.

"Bring the Thomas-Smith file with you," he hollered through the open doorway.

Precariously balancing a tray with her special coffee, cream, sugar, cup, and saucer, Myra reached for the requested file. Holding on to everything by sheer dent of will, she proceeded into the lion’s den.

Ted was standing at one of the windows that offered him an extraordinary view of the city, barking into his phone.

"I don’t care if you promised your kids you’d take them trick-or-treating. I want that contract on my desk tonight! Do you understand that, Jenson? Tonight!" Hanging up on Jenson with a bang, Ted turned to the tray and file that Myra had placed on his desk.

"Pour me some of that." Ted demanded as he opened the file. "Can you believe Jenson? What…Halloween is supposed to be an excuse for not getting anything done around here?"

Myra made no comment while she made his coffee to exact specifications. Ted knew that Jenson was divorced and only had a certain amount of time that could be spent with his kids. His ex-wife would make him pay dearly if he didn’t take them trick-or-treating.

"And what the hell was Donna thinking, putting up all of that crap? Plastic spiders and that…..spider web stuff have no place in these offices! This is a business, not a haunted house! I can’t believe she actually thought she’d get away with it. I want the time that she spent putting that stuff up and taking it down taken out of her pay. Handle it, Myra."

Ted took a sip of his coffee, then looked at her. "What is this? It tastes funny."

Myra ignored the question. "Mr. Lansing, I wanted to ask you about the vacation time I requested for the…um…family reunion in Massachusetts. You said you would let me know before tonight."

"What? Oh, the reunion thing. Well, you should have let me know sooner. I can‘t let you take it."

"I put in that request six weeks ago!" Myra felt herself getting angry.

"I said no. I am not giving you the time off. Forget it." He took another drink of the coffee. "Seriously, Myra, this tastes funny."

"You miserable toad." Myra whispered, as a gust of air violently blew her hair back away from her face.

Ted stood, transfixed, as the lights began to dim. He could feel his blood roaring in his ears.

"I AM going to Salem to see my sisters." Myra pointing a long, red tipped nail in his direction, began to mutter under her breath. Ted could feel the odd coffee burning in his throat. There was a loud pop, a haze of smoke, and Ted was gone.

Myra walked forward, leaned down, and picked up a small, bug-eyed toad. She placed it on the desk with a gentle little pat and a smile. "Happy Halloween, Ted."

The Masquerade

by

r.m.dowell

"Finished." Marjorie arranged the last candlestick, "Now if Bruce fulfills his promise to portray Rhett Butler; it’ll be the perfect evening. I," she bowed to her friend, "of course will be Scarlett."

This year’s theme was the old south. Louise stood back and admired the room that had been transformed to resemble Tara. "How did you come up with this idea anyway?" she asked.

Marjorie explained her dislike of Halloween and at age sixteen planned an elegant masquerade ball instead, the only condition, no gory costumes. Her friends loved it so it became an annual event for eight years.

"Then last year I let Bruce talk me into a normal Halloween party." She shuddered. "What a disaster, fights broke out, the police were called, and several people were hauled off to jail. I was so embarrassed. I promised this year we’d return to my traditional ball."

"How does Bruce feel about that?" Louise asked.

"He promised he wouldn’t invite his rowdy friends and I made him agree no liquor besides the punch." Marjorie sat down next to her friend. " Sometimes I wonder what attracts me; he drinks too much, smokes, and often acts like a jerk. His impoverished background and crude ways offend me more often than not." Shrugging she looked at her watch, "Come on let’s get ready."

The bell rang just as she finished smoothing out her dress, her first guests had arrived. Her maid, Lily, would see to them. She’d wait until a few more guests gathered before making her entrance. Bruce had promised to arrive well before the other guests and as usual, he was late. His tardiness was another of his tactless personality traits that annoyed her. Tonight might be the time to break it off, she thought.

The doorbell rang again, and she started down the circular staircase. As she neared the bottom, she stopped, her face reddened with anger, glaring at the scene below. Bruce and his friends were ambling about in their gory costumes, obviously drunk. He raised a bottle toward her. This was the last straw; she composed herself and hurried down the remaining steps.

"Ah, my dear you look ravishing," he bellowed. "Trick or treat."

"How dare you?" she whispered through clenched teeth as she moved toward the door and opened it.

He looked surprised. "Why, Miss Scarlett, would you deny me the pleasure of your company?"

"Leave now!" she said, thankful that only a handful of her guests had arrived. She felt like screaming, wanted to lash out at him.

She leaned against the door, sighed, smoothed her dress and composed herself. Frankly I don’t give a damn, she thought. Relieved that it was over, she smiled and turned to greet her guests.

THE GREAT PUNKIN' CAPER

Janice Parker

Jan, I apologize. I read this when I judged the contest, but somehow a couple did not get posted in the original post. Not sure why they got cut off!

I live in a not even one stoplight Vermont town tucked away in the
mountains like a bird's nest in a spruce tree. A statue of a Union soldier
stands at a fork in the road just beyond the bridge. Many names inscribed
around the base are still prominent on the tax rolls as farms and homes have
been passed from generation to generation. For fifty-one weeks of the year
the soldier stands, dignified and watchful; his only company the seasonal
flowers placed inside the wrought iron fence by members of the historical
society. Mysteriously, each Halloween night for the past sixty years or so,
local pranksters bedeck him with a new head-a freshly carved orange pumpkin.
Now, sixty years is a long time for success with any Halloween trickery and
I'm a curious individual soooooooo.
I approached our retired town clerk. "No, I don't really know when it
started.probably around the time there were no more outhouses in town to
tip. I've always suspected my son had a hand in it when he was a teenager.
In fact he may have been the first. Why don't you ask him?"
David supplied me with, "ifs." "If I had been involved it wouldn't have
been hard for one kid to climb up over his rifle and have another toss the
pumpkin up. If I'd ever done it, it would have had to be very late at night
and very quietly because the store and that other house are so close. Why
don't you ask George Macy? He's older and might know who started it. In fact
he might have been the first-he was that kind of kid."
"Gee," said George. "I don't remember.it was a long time ago.I might have,
I suppose.but I don't recollect it." He rubbed his neck which had turned
the color of a spring sunburn.
People have been quite vocal with the constable over the years that this
caper shows disrespect to the statue's heritage. However, all the "suspects"
I talked with specifically expressed no such intention. "I woulda used a
plastic bag under the pumpkin to protect his head." "I would have made sure
the pumpkin head was right side up." Competition to extend the record gets
stiffer every year but once the pumpkin is up everyone else backs off to try
again next year. "Be first and not get caught," is still rule one. Rule two;
no bragging about your feat for at least twenty years.
November 1, 2003: The slender granite figure with his head now covered with
a pumpkin stands quietly. Rather like another Vermonter, nicknamed, "Silent
Cal." A White House guest wagered she could get him to say more than two
words. President Coolidge replied, "You lose."
Perhaps our statue is like Coolidge, always on the job but each year
sports a silent granite grin behind his orange Halloween mask.
=======================================================

Trick or Treat!

By

Kayo Gonder

The service in church this morning was one I shall always remember. Perhaps the first snowfall of the winter, covering the leaf-strewn yards and parked cars with a thick layer of powdered sugar (so it seemed to me), lent a sense of expectancy to the churchgoers. The cold snap with temperatures plunging forty-eight degrees overnight did little, though, to dissuade people from turning out for the All Saints’ Day service.

Then, too, I think parents felt the need to draw their candy-gorged children back to earth with a solemn remembrance of the dearly departed. The youngsters I encountered were ajitter with the exuberance of Halloween, reliving their monster characters from two days past. Parents and children alike shared stories of costumes and candy, the biggest haul, the best house to hit for treats.

As for me, I was content to sit and watch.

Four days earlier, Wednesday to be precise, my daughter and son-in-law admitted me to the hospital. They told the doctor and nurses they found me in the attic of my home, dehydrated, dirty, and – their term – deranged. I told me I was only unpacking my Halloween decorations (you see, I dearly love Halloween), but they would have none of that.

I remember clearly the ride to the hospital. Caroline, my daughter, was hysterical. Doug, he’s my son-in-law, almost drove into a parked car. He cursed my sweet Caroline, telling her to shut up. I wanted to tell him not to use that ugly tone of voice with her, but didn’t. I just clung to Caroline’s hand tight as I could so she’d know everything was all right.

Well, to make a long story short, Caroline and Doug left me in the hospital. She came to see me before they left. Puffy eyed, looking like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with her nose all bright from crying, she sat beside my bed. For the life of me, I could not understand a word she said. I saw worry and love in her face, and something else, but I couldn’t decipher what it was. So I smiled at her.

Echoes of Lovecraft! J Nice!

TRICK-OR-TREAT

By Laurie Elwyn

A slice of moon peeks out from behind the swirling clouds. I huddle next to the kitchen window, my eyes straining through the semi-darkness outside. He is out there, but I cannot see him. I want to escape from my house and my hand gropes for the doorknob, but I yank it away. If I go outside, he will find me. I can almost feel his icy fingers grabbing my arm, so tightly that I will have bruises. Just like before.

The kitchen is dim--I am afraid to turn on the lights. Darkness descends early now that it is late October. I squint at the calendar above the sink and realize that tonight is Halloween. My favorite holiday. I giggle and feel myself losing control, so I bite my cheek to make the laughter stop. My blood tastes metallic and sour. Closing my eyes, I remember the cool satin of the vampire’s cape I wore last Halloween, and I can almost hear the rustle it made when I moved.

Something brushes my foot. I yelp. It’s Portia, her green eyes glow as she scratches the door. But I can’t let her out. Portia growls and twines her sinewy body around my legs. I whisper to her and bend down to stroke her silky fur. Portia came to me a month ago. Every time I arrived home, she was curled into a ball against the door, waiting. I have never wanted a cat, but now I am glad for her company.

I jump when the doorbell chimes. Fragile voices yell, "Trick or treat," as mitten clad fists pound on my door. I sit on the floor with Portia, and after a few minutes, I hear the tap of footsteps as the children race to the next house. Last year, fat orange pumpkins lined my steps, and he and I answered the door together in our matching vampire costumes. He joked that I was under his control and kissed my neck. I covered the bruises on my throat with makeup the next morning.

Last Tuesday, I finally told him that I couldn’t see him anymore, and he smashed my grandmother’s blue Wedgwood plates one by one against the sink. He said he would not live without me--or me without him. Screaming, I locked myself in the bathroom, and called the police on my cell phone. I can still see the glare in his black eyes as they took him away, his hands clenched in fists behind his back in the handcuffs. He yelled, "I’ll be back," as the policeman slammed the car door in his scowling face.

My cell phone is smashed, I found it on the doorstep when I arrived home from work. I should have run to the police right then, but I didn’t. Now I am trapped with no phone and no way out. He is coming back tonight. I can hear his footsteps, as light and innocent as a child’s as they mount the steps to my door.

Cruising On

by: Jeff Whichello

"Pass the ketchup please," said Dave. The lure of a Halloween singles cruise seemed the perfect substitute for a lonely evening away from the girl who broke his heart. Dave felt lost and being at sea seemed the right place for him.

"Mmm hmm sugar, ketchup com’n up," Said Helen, a woman more than double his size of South Carolinian, Baptist and African descent sitting next to four other women of similar appearance. His buddy Scott had flown to Florida from Michigan and sat at the table with three other Caucasian guys all with similar expectations but completed baffled by their twist of fate. For seven days the itinerary connected the five gentlemen to these southern ladies in an assortment of activities including the famed Halloween dance ball.

"My ex-husband finally ran off for good," said Helen, "Chandra said this here cruise might get my head straight." Scott’s frowning face gazed off at a slender young woman about his age, early twenties engaged in conversation with the guy across from her.

"Well let me tell you, my husband never did noth’n for me. He wouldn’t never even take me to church," said Helen.

"Could you slide over that big bowl of them fancy shrimps," said one of the other women to Scott who reluctantly pushed the bowl with one finger in her general direction.

"He would never come to bed, just wanted to watch that football. He loved that football. Guess more than me." She looked down at the plate of half eat snow crabs legs. Chandra put her arm around her friend. "But maybe it’s best he’s gone because he never did nothin’ but leave his chicken wings for me to clean up after football." Dave thought about the piles of clothes and garbage his ex-girl friend would leave on the floor of their apartment. He still loved her the day she finally left when he made a request for her to clean the kitchen. She left a note paper clipped to the side of a big pot stained with chili residue. It said nothing more than, "I can’t take it anymore, good-bye Dave"

"Dave, I’m not feeling like food right now so I’m going to go watch a video in the cabin," said Scott.

"Oh hunny, I hope you feel ok for the costume dance," said Chandra.

"So how about you David," said Helen, "you don’t have any one?"

"I did but she left me," said Dave.

"Hunny, she didn’t know what she had. My ex-husband never paid no mind to me after all the love I gave him. Maybe this cruise will give us both time to straighten our heads."

"You all ready for the costume party?" Said Chandra, "What-cha gonna go as David?"

"I don’t know," said Dave, "I wasn’t going to go so I don’t have a costume."

Forty five minutes later Dave swung open the doors to the ship’s hall with a life preserver hung around his neck.

We Gather Here Together

by Stacy Sue Cobb

We Gather Here Together

Abraham Lockwood walked through the back door of the enclosed porch. Boy’s girlfriend, Roylene, was

watching television which went snowy as Abraham passed into the kitchen.

Frances, his wife, was there as she always was. She was still the prettiest woman Abraham had ever seen. He

smiled.

"Where’s Boy?" he asked her.

"He’s on the front porch," she replied.

Abraham continued through the house. He stopped in the parlor and turned on the reading lamp next to his old easy chair as he went to the front porch.

Boy, Abraham’s son, was sitting on the porch swing. He was now a grown man, handsome and strong. Abraham felt pride in his Boy.

"I know you’re here, Pappy," Boy said.

Abraham sat on the porch swing beside him.

"Your Ma’s here, too," Abraham said.

Boy smiled. "I know. I can hear Gabrielle, Alexander and the rest."

Footsteps came bounding down the stairs and the front door swung open as Boy’s own teenage daughter,

Gemma, bounded out onto the porch with youthful enthusiasm. Gemma has only lived with her father for a few short months.

"J. D.," Gemma called him by his initials. "Are you gonna take me into town to that party?"

Boy looked up at Gemma. She stepped back. His amber colored eyes gleamed eerily in the moonlight with something she couldn’t name.

"Are you okay?"

Boy stood up.

"Gemma, come here," he said calmly. "Take my hands."

Frances came out onto the porch. She looked nervously at Abraham.

"It’s time, Frances," Abraham said to her.

"But she’s so young," Frances protested.

"J. D.," Gemma looked at her father. "You are getting weirder by the minute! I’ll have Roylene …"

"Roylene won’t take you to town," boy interrupted. He grasped her hands and looked her straight in the eye. "I’m going to give you the gift that my father gave me."

"Trick-or-Treat?" Gemma said uneasily as she looked directly into her father’s amber eyes.

Boy’s grasp tightened on her hands, his body stiffened as he eyes rolled back into his head. Then , in a voice not his, he commanded, "Open thine eyes so that thou may see!"

The Seth Thomas mantle clock in the parlor chimed the midnight hour, an electric current ran from Boy’s body into Gemma and she screamed with fright and pain.

Gemma opened her tear-filled eyes. She could see the faces of Abraham, Frances and several other people she couldn’t identify.

"Oh, my Gawd!" she said, fear creeping into her voice. She began to shake. "J. D. what is going on here? What just happened?"

"Gemma," Boy put his strong arms lovingly around her daughter. The affectionate gesture was rare. "This is when all souls commune. When we know that we are not alone. I awakened in you the ability to see."

"We love you, Gemma," all the ghosts on the porch said.

"It’s all Hallows Eve," Abraham said.