The Mammoth Book of Halloween Stories: Terrifying Tales Set on the Scariest Night of the Year!

by Stephen Jones

  Just then, the bell over the door clanged and Heather turned to see three teenagers—two boys and a girl. They were laughing and shoving each other, but they stopped and stared when they noticed the stranger in their midst.

  Relieved to see someone her own age, Heather smiled and gave a little wave. She expected one of them to speak first, but all three merely stood where they were, staring at her. The girl had her arms crossed over her chest and looked bored.

  Unable to handle the awkward silence, Heather took a brave step closer. “I’m Heather. My dad and I—”

  “We know who you are,” said one of the boys. He was tall and gangly, his accent so thick Heather could barely understand him. He nudged his shorter friend, whose blank expression showed he wasn’t up on current events. “They took over the Barton farm, Harry. I told you.”

  Heather shifted uncomfortably, not liking the way he had phrased it, as though they’d invaded and conquered the place. “We inherited it actually. It belonged to my dad’s Aunt Ruth. I never even met her.”

  “You inherit that horse too?” This time it was the girl who spoke, her voice devoid of inflection.

  The tall boy sniggered. “Chloe’s jealous,” he said, earning a black look from her.

  “Shut it, Ian,” Chloe growled, glaring at him.

  “You could come see her,” Heather offered, eager to keep the peace. But no one responded to her invitation.

  “You want these or not, love?”

  She glanced back at the old woman, who was holding up the box of sugar lumps. Heather hurried back to the counter. “Yes. And a candy bar. Chocolate or something. Anything, really.”

  That provoked a giggle from Chloe. Heather affected a laugh as well, assuming the joke involved the idea of her feeding candy to the horse.

  The woman rummaged behind the counter and produced a bar of chocolate with an unfamiliar name. She quoted an amount and it took Heather some time to fish through the exotic coins to pay for it.

  She turned to go, slightly unnerved to see that the group still hadn’t moved. She wanted to believe they were just awkward around a newcomer, but she was beginning to get a darker vibe from them. She decided to make one last attempt to make friends.

  “So … what are you all going as for Halloween?” she asked.

  Ian blinked. “Going as?”

  “Yeah,” Heather said. “Won’t there be a party somewhere? Or trick-or-treating?”

  Chloe snorted. “Trick … or … treating?” She enunciated each word, as though it was the stupidest idea she’d ever heard.

  Heather felt herself shrinking, her face burning as she looked down at the ground. “I guess, I just thought … I mean… .”

  “I don’t know what you do where you come from,” Ian said, putting on an exaggerated American accent, “but Halloween ain’t some kiddie fun fair.”

  Harry was the only one who didn’t seem eager to make fun of her. “We have old customs,” he said without elaborating. “Maybe you think they’re strange.”

  “Oh no, I’d never—”

  “Or beneath you,” Chloe sneered. “Bet she thinks we’re all just ignorant yokels.”

  Heather desperately wanted to leave, to hide her face before the shame made her cry. She decided to keep quiet and let the moment run its course.

  “You Americans with your stupid costumes and parties,” Ian said, now making no attempt to conceal his hostility. “What are you going as, Heather? A Disney princess? A unicorn? The Statue of Liberty?” At each insulting suggestion, he gave her a little shove until her back was against a shelf. Something wobbled behind her and fell to the floor with a thud.

  Tears were blurring her vision but she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. The old woman was clearly not going to intervene and the only way Heather was getting out of the shop was by pushing her way through the awful trio.

  “There’s things here you don’t want to see,” Harry said. “Things you have to … appease.”

  “Don’t warn her,” Ian said. “She don’t care. Her and her rich daddy and her fancy horse, ridin’ round like she owns the place.” He edged closer, getting right in Heather’s face. “She’ll find out, though. When they come through.”

  Heather felt like she’d been doused with ice water. She tried not to flinch away, but his cold eyes and colder voice were too intimidating. She couldn’t hold back her tears any longer and she pushed him aside and fled. Their laughter followed her all the way home.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon with Callisto in her stall. She threw the chocolate away without eating it.

  The woods behind the farm were ancient and obviously haunted. Callisto wasn’t normally skittish, but in the woods she often shied at nothing. Nothing visible anyway. Each time Callisto jumped at a shadow, Heather would lean forward, stretching along the length of the horse’s neck, stroking her and murmuring softly until she was calm. Sometimes it felt as though their souls were connected, as though they had a language all their own. She’d heard the term “horse whisperer” before and liked the way it sounded. She couldn’t necessarily whisper to all horses. But this one understood her perfectly. Even her father could see they had a special bond.

  The three of them were taking a walk one day when Dave remarked that they could throw one hell of a party in the woods, among the trees. Heather laughed, not wanting to admit that the idea made her uneasy.

  There’s things here you don’t want to see.

  When she didn’t say anything in response to the suggestion, Dave swooped his hand over the top of her head.

  Heather frowned. “Huh? What’d I miss?”

  Her dad blinked in astonishment. “Really? Come on, kiddo. You forget the date or something? Sure you didn’t fall off Callisto and hit your head?”

  Suddenly she realized he’d been serious about the party. She blushed and lowered her head, stroking the lean, muscular leg of the horse walking beside her. “Oh.” She shrugged. “I just … I don’t know anyone here. I’d rather wait until we get home.”

  “What? No way! It’ll all be over by then!”

  But his enthusiasm only made her feel more uncomfortable and she pressed closer to Callisto, who leaned down to snort a burst of hot air down the back of her hoodie.

  Dave sensed her discomfort and drew them all to a halt. “Hang on. I thought you met some of the other kids in the village.”

  Heather shrugged again. “Yeah.” She didn’t want to say more, didn’t want to tell him how they’d made fun of her accent and her customs and hinted that something horrible was coming for her.

  “That’s not like you,” he persisted. “You’re the one who walks into a room full of strangers and leaves with ten new friends.”

  “Maybe back home,” she said. “Here’s it’s just you and me and Callisto.” Seeing concern in his face, she hurriedly added, “But that’s fine. I’m having a great time.”

  But Dave didn’t seem convinced. “I know you love the horse, but you’ve always been a pack animal. Are you sure you’re okay? Sure you don’t want a party? We’re going to get quite a lot of money for some of the stuff in the house, you know. We can afford to ‘splash out,’ as they say over here.”

  Heather smiled. “You really are the Best Dad in the World, you know?”

  He looked down at the ground, embarrassed by her praise.

  “But,” she continued, “no party is ever gonna top last year’s. You don’t have to try so hard. I’m okay. Really. We’re both okay now.” She wrapped her arm around him and squeezed, knowing he would take her meaning. He was often guilty of trying to fill the hole left by her mother. And if the past year had taught her anything, it was that he was all she needed.

  After a while he nodded, understanding. “If you’re sure,” he said. “We’ll set our sights on next year, then. A Halloween to remember.”

  “One for the ages.”

  She had successfully quashed the idea of a party, but her father still pressed her about Halloween.
It was out of character for her not to be excited about it and planning what to wear, narrowing down costume choices.

  “They don’t really do Halloween over here, Dad,” Heather mumbled. She picked at her dinner. Frozen pizza with the thinnest crust they’d ever seen.

  But Dave persisted. “Don’t be ridiculous. They had all kinds of stuff at the supermarket.”

  Heather shrugged. The supermarket was only two miles from Thorpe Morag, but it might as well have been another country. “I’d rather just hang out and watch TV,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “Save all the real fun for when we’re back home.”

  But even the thought of home wasn’t entirely comforting. Because going home meant leaving Callisto behind. Chester had promised to take care of her in Heather’s absence, but that didn’t change the fact that Heather would never see her horse—and she had come to think of Callisto as her horse—again.

  Dave didn’t respond. Heather kept her head down, pretending to be absorbed in spreading the sparse toppings around on her pizza. She counted three whole pieces of pepperoni. When the silence began to feel awkward, she finally looked up, only to frown in confusion at her dad’s expression. A cryptic grin had spread across his features.

  “What?”

  “Oh kiddo,” he said with a good-natured chuckle. “Don’t you think I know why you’ve been so moody lately?”

  She froze with her pizza slice halfway to her mouth. He knew?

  Now his chuckle became a full laugh. “Your face! You look like you’ve just seen your own tombstone.” He reached across the table and pushed her pizza slice back down to her plate so he could grasp her hands. “It’s Callisto, isn’t it? You’re upset about leaving her behind.”

  Heather relaxed a little, relieved that he’d only guessed half of what was eating at her. The safe half. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m really gonna miss her.”

  “Well, maybe you don’t have to miss her at all.”

  Her eyes widened as she waited for him to elaborate, too afraid to risk guessing and be wrong.

  He didn’t keep her in suspense long. “We’re going to make a lot of money from the farm,” he said. “A lot more than I originally thought. I didn’t want to say anything until I double-checked the figures, and I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you, but you just seemed so glum. We’ll be able to afford some nice things back home. Like maybe a new house, with a big yard. And… .”

  Heather squealed with excitement and jumped up so fast she knocked her chair over. She ran to her father and threw her arms around him, tears of joy filling her eyes. “Oh my god, I don’t know what to say! Thank you!”

  “Happy birthday, Heather.”

  She clung to him, unable to hold back the tears any longer. And now she didn’t have to. Those horrible village kids could torment her all they wanted to now and it wouldn’t matter one little bit because Callisto was going home with her!

  That night she went out to the stable to share the good news. Callisto tossed her head and pawed the ground, expressing her own excitement at the knowledge that they weren’t going to be separated.

  October 31st dawned cold and foggy, just like any other day in the damp valley. It was so different from Austin. Back home all the houses would have Halloween decorations up and there would be people already wandering around in costume. Lots of kids at school would be dressed up, as would the coolest of the teachers. Even people at various jobs would be in costume. But here it might as well be any other day of the year.

  Heather had taken to riding Callisto through the woods, avoiding the village, and she spent the day among the trees. At one point they encountered a deer, which froze, staring, until Callisto stretched up to nibble the few remaining leaves on a nearby tree. The deer startled and was gone in a flick of her tail.

  They had both grown more comfortable in what Heather called The Haunted Woods. She supposed she had the village kids to thank for that. Their nastiness was worse than anything she and Callisto were likely to encounter out here. But she was still bothered by what Harry had said about old customs.

  Things you have to … appease.

  She shook her head to banish the memory. Her favorite holiday could come and go without fanfare, but it didn’t matter because next year she and her dad would throw the most awesome party ever. She’d already decided on Callisto’s costume: she would find a pair of huge white-feathered wings for the horse. The idea of riding Pegasus filled her with joy. She left the woods and returned home feeling as though she and Callisto were already flying.

  They were having dinner when it happened. Someone was pounding hard on the door and there was the sound of raucous laughter outside. Heather looked at her dad with wide eyes and shook her head, silently urging him not to go.

  But he frowned in confusion at her and got up from the table. “It’s probably just trick-or-treaters,” he said.

  Heather followed him, feeling like a scared kid and wishing she’d told him the whole story, that Halloween wasn’t about fun here.

  We have old customs. Maybe you think they’re strange.

  Her father flung open the door and boldly walked out onto the step while Heather hid behind him in the porch. A group of people had gathered in front of the farmhouse, and Heather gasped as she saw what they were wearing. It looked like a gathering of demons.

  They were dressed in black robes and masks. Horrible, misshapen things that looked like they’d been put together and painted in the dark. A trio at the back held torches. Not flashlights, but actual flaming torches.

  “Hey there,” her dad said, sounding uneasy. “I thought you guys didn’t do Halloween.”

  That prompted a chorus of laughter and one man started up a chant. At first Heather thought they were saying “nightmare.” But as others took up the chant, she realized it was just the name of the pub. White Mare.

  Dave glanced back at Heather, and his expression of concern worried her. He motioned for her to stay back, and that frightened her even more.

  “Listen, fellas,” her dad said, “I’m not sure what this is about, but—”

  They wouldn’t let him talk. The crowd shouted him down with their strange chant. Dave stepped back inside and took hold of the door, but one of the robed figures jumped across the threshold and kept him from shutting it.

  There was a flash of white among the crowd and the jingle of bells. The figure moved quickly, bobbing and weaving between the revelers. Heather covered her mouth with both hands as she caught a glimpse of it. If the people in black looked like demons, this thing looked like a monster. The head was huge and white, and the jaws made a horrible clacking sound as its mouth opened and closed.

  At last it broke through and stood at the entrance. It wasn’t a monster. It was worse.

  “White Mare! White Mare!”

  A white sheet draped the person holding the awful clacking head. At least Heather hoped there was a person under there. What she’d first taken for a monster was only a skull. A horse’s skull, long and gaunt and grinning horribly. Someone had filled the empty eye sockets with gleaming red baubles.

  Her dad shouted over the noise. “Go on! Get out of here!”

  But the crowd continued to chant, growing louder and louder. The horse-man capered on the step, dancing in a circle. The skull reared back, its mouth open in silent laughter, before jerking down again and appearing to look straight at Heather. She screamed.

  That was when the robed people shoved her father aside and forced their way into the house. The horse-man continued its hellish dancing as it followed, with the others standing aside to let it pass. It “galloped” down the corridor and as soon as it passed, Heather ran to her father and clung to him.

  “Make them stop,” she sobbed. “Make them go away!”

  Dave held her tight as he edged them both into the nearest room and slammed the door behind them. “Don’t worry, Heather. I’m calling the cops.”

  An old rotary dial phone stood on the table in the corner and Dave gra
bbed it and dialed 9-1-1. Then he cursed and hung up, remembering to dial 9-9-9 when he tried again.

  Heather listened in horror to the shouting and chanting as the group marched through the house. Some of them had musical instruments and began playing, the melodies harsh and discordant. Others sang in high screeching voices. But above the chaos, one sound was clearest of all.

  Clack! Clack! Clack!

  “Yes, hello? I need the police at the Barton farm in Thorpe Morag. Half the village just broke into my house!”

  He was silent for a few moments as he listened to the operator. Then his expression turned incredulous.

  “What the hell kind of advice is that? And they’re already in, didn’t you hear me? No, I don’t know anything about any custom but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re trespassing. They scared my daughter half to death. Now send someone out here right—” He broke off and held the phone away from his face, staring at it in shock. “I don’t believe it,” he said. “She hung up.”

  Heather bit her lip as the party continued their dancing, singing invasion. The skull clacked out of time with the stamping feet and the chanting voices.

  “White Mare! White Mare!”

  Clack! Clack! Clack!

  “What did she say?” Heather asked.

  Dave shook his head. “Something about some local custom. She told me to let them in. I said they were already in!”

  She’ll find out, though. When they come through.

  Heather eyed the door uneasily, but the sounds were growing faint as the group moved deeper into the house. A shudder ran through her and she hurried to her father’s side. They held each other as they listened.

  “Maybe they’ll just go,” Dave said. “It’s probably some Halloween prank. The emergency operator didn’t seem to think it was anything to worry about.”

  Heather nodded in hopeful agreement, but she couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with the village kids. Were they here now, dressed like demons and dancing around with the others? She imagined pulling off one of those hideous masks only to find the same face underneath.