by P. J. Night
Then she shot her friends a look, and they hurried out the door without another word.
The old woman followed them to the door as fast as she could, but in truth she wasn’t very fast anymore. That was stupid, she scolded herself. You should’ve waited. If they’d gotten the candy, they would’ve used the ScanPad to buy it, and you’d have their names and addresses. You could’ve told their parents—
But it was too late now.
She could just see them in the distance, all golden with youth and promise, shining with the light of the setting sun. For two of them, their last day was almost over.
For the third? Well, she’d find her way back to the store.
They always did.
The old woman hobbled back to the secret room. She had to make some space on the walls, space for the new names she’d be adding in the morning.
They’d needed to expand the secret room some years ago, but somehow she and her husband just didn’t have the heart to do it.
It was always the same: A decade would pass without needing to add more names. That led them to hope, against all their better judgment, that their warnings had gotten through to everyone in the town—that everyone remembered the real reason why you couldn’t go trick-or-treating in this town and that another child would not fall victim to the curse.
Eventually, though, those hopes were always dashed.
When she’d shuffled the papers around enough to accommodate the new names, the old woman decided that she might as well close up early. There was still so much she had to do when she got home. Find the extra blankets—it was going to be a cold night, and a long one, and at her age she really shouldn’t take a chill. Fill the bowl with their favorite candy—of course she hadn’t forgotten, not even after all these years. And, of course, the metal neckband.
The ghost and the skeleton weren’t much of a worry. They could howl and scratch at her as much as they wanted; she didn’t really mind. It was nothing compared to what they’d endured these past seventy years. But her neck, on the other hand. That needed protecting. Vampires just can’t help themselves.
She wasn’t scared; not too scared, anyway. In fact, she was looking forward to seeing them again.
Ashley always did like to spend her birthday with friends.
“So, exactly how far away from home is this place?” asked Maggie Kim, as she slouched down in the backseat of her parents’ car. She ran her fingers through her dark, shoulder-length hair.
“Just a little more than four hours,” Maggie’s mother replied cheerfully from the front passenger seat.
“Might as well be four days,” Maggie mumbled to her best friend, Sophie Weiss, who sat in the backseat beside her.
Sophie smiled, trying to make Maggie feel better. Her soft freckled face beamed out from under a mop of thick, curly red hair. She was taller than Maggie, despite the fact that they were the same age. In fact, their birthdays were just a couple of weeks apart.
Maggie and Sophie were seventh grade classmates in a big middle school in a suburb of Denver, Colorado. The two were inseparable, and so when Maggie learned that she had to make the trek to the mountains for the long weekend, she invited Sophie along. After all, a sleepover with her best friend was better than being stuck in a strange house with only her family all weekend. She wondered how many sleepovers she and Sophie would have left together, if her parents’ crazy plan went through.
“As long as the skiing rocks, I don’t care how far away it is,” said Maggie’s older brother, Simon. Simon was captain of his high school ski team.
“That’s not a surprise to anyone, Simon.” Maggie replied. “You spend every weekend on the slopes.”
“I can’t believe there aren’t any ski resorts up on this mountain already, Mrs. Kim,” Sophie said.
“That’s why this would be the perfect investment, Sophie,” Mr. Kim chimed in from behind the wheel.
“A perfect investment in boredom,” Maggie quipped. “We’ll be like a million miles from civilization. Not to mention all my friends.” She reached around Sophie’s shoulder and gave her a hug.
“What friends?” Simon teased.
“Shut up,” Maggie shot back. “All you care about is that this place has mountains and snow. You don’t care about people.”
“Sure I do, Mags,” Simon said. “People have to make the skis, and run the lifts, and—”
“You’ll be able to visit your friends on the weekends, honey,” Mrs. Kim interrupted, knowing that the current backseat conversation could only move in one direction—escalation into full-fledged sibling warfare.
“I’ve managed somebody else’s hotel for years,” Mr. Kim pointed out.
“And done a fantastic job at it too,” Mrs. Kim added.
“Thank you, dear. And your mother has been the maitre d’ at some of the finest restaurants in Colorado. We’ve always dreamed of starting our own hotel. So when the Wharton Mansion was posted for sale yesterday, and for such a steal, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to realize our dream. It really sounds just right from the description the realtor gave us when we grabbed the keys from her office this morning,” Mr. Kim said.
“She told us that the previous owner of the house, ‘Old Man Wharton’, died about a year ago,” Mrs. Kim continued. “No one has even been inside the house since then, because of a battle over the will. They finally settled the estate two days ago, and so she posted the listing before she had even seen or cleaned the place.”
“We’ll be the first ones to see it!” Mr. Kim said enthusiastically.
“Lucky us,” Maggie moaned. “So does this place have any neighbors? What, like five miles away?”
“No!” Mr. Kim cried, as if Maggie had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “More like three.”
“Oh, that’s a lot better,” Maggie said sarcastically.
“I’ll come visit,” Sophie said. “After all, BFFs are BFFs.”
“I know,” Maggie said. “But you’ll get to go home. To a real town. With real people. I’ll be living full time up in the middle of nowhere with real bears.”
Mrs. Kim turned to face Maggie. “I wish you’d give this a chance. This is very important to us. At least take look at it before you decide it’s going to be a nightmare.”
“Fine,” Maggie said under breath. A living nightmare, the perfect description for this. The only thing missing is zombies.
The last leg of the trip passed in complete silence until Maggie felt the car slow down. “Are we here?” she asked.
“Almost,” Mr. Kim said. “We’re in the closest town. It’s called Piney Hill, population 300.” Maggie sat up and looked outside. Most of the buildings were shuttered, or were dark and closed for the night.
“Wait. This is the town?” Maggie cried in disbelief.
“Just five more miles up this hill and we’re there!” he said, his excitement growing.
Slipping and sliding a bit on the icy hill, the car finally made it to a long twisting driveway. Ahead Maggie spotted a sprawling mansion. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
“It’s just what they call a ‘fixer-upper,’” Mr. Kim said enthusiastically, anticipating everyone’s reaction.
“It should be called a tear-it-downer!” Maggie exclaimed.
“Now Maggie. I—”
“Wait,” Maggie interrupted, pointing to one of the windows on the first floor.
Through the heavy snow she could just make out the face of an old man. He was staring down at the driveway, glaring directly at their car. The light from the room he was in illuminated his whole appearance, making him look unnaturally bright.
“There’s someone already in the house!” Maggie cried.
A lifelong night owl, P. J. NIGHT often works furiously into the wee hours of the morning, writing down spooky tales and dreaming up new stories of the supernatural and otherworldly. Although P. J.’s whereabouts are unknown at this time, we suspect the author lives in a drafty old mansion where the floorboards crea
k when no one is there and the flickering candlelight creates shadows that creep along the walls. We truly wish we could tell you more, but we’ve been sworn to keep P. J.’s identity a secret . . . and it’s a secret we will take to our graves!