This is Halloween

by James A. Moore

  She looked at Nancy. Nancy had not noticed. For a moment she warred with herself over whether or not to point it out and then decided against it, because if Nancy freaked too hard Halloween would officially be over and she didn’t want to deal with a herd of unhappy, mostly candy free kids.

  Despite the logic of her inner argument and her satisfaction at winning the same, a chill ran through Linda and her arms pimpled into gooseflesh. She smiled at the notion of creeping herself out. When she looked at the tree there was nothing there, nothing moving.

  And the kids were not suffering from that problem, so the whole lot of them moved forward.

  The Addison place was up and the Addisons knew how to do up a proper Halloween. There were three old mannequins dressed as a mummy, a witch, and a zombie in the front yard. Each of them had a lit lantern with a handle motif - with LED lights because accidents happen when kids are involved - and scattered body parts lying around them. They all pointed toward the front of the house, where loud Halloween music was blaring and black lights added to the creep factor of several ghosts that had been drawn in glow-in-the-dark chalk on the walls leading to the front door. Adding to the fun was a long stretch of day-glow spider webs that turned the walkway into a sort of tunnel. The kids didn’t know if they should be terrified or ecstatic.

  Eventually greed for candy won over fear.

  Linda and Nancy hung back. They were there for safety, not for getting in the way.

  Nancy looked back behind them and frowned. The sun was almost gone now and the shadows were getting heavier. Dusk had taken the world and leeched away most of the colors, but the Halloween decorations, the slowly roasting jack-o-lanterns, the flickering strobe lights, they all added their own illumination and their own deliciously creepy charm.

  The kids knocked on the Addison door and hollered out a scattered “trick or treat!” as Mrs. Addison answered, dressed in a witch’s hat and sporting a plastic cauldron filled with candy bars.

  And somewhere behind them, a shadow moved and rustled the leaves that were bumbling along in the soft breeze.

  “What’s wrong?” Linda turned to Nancy, who was still looking the way they’d come.

  “I thought I heard that old gate creaking open.”

  Linda’s head snapped in that direction so fast she felt a muscle in her neck fire off a warning flare. She winced at the unexpected pain.

  The gate to the Lundgren place stood open.

  Another chill slid up Linda’s spine. This one was not quite as pleasant. Before her imagination could do her in too heavily, however, Nancy came up with an answer. “I guess someone is braver than us,” she laughed.

  Linda was quick to recover. “You mean braver than you.”

  “Whatever, Linda.” Nancy was good-natured about the ribbing.

  “I wonder who finally moved into that place.”

  Before Nancy could come up with a response the kids were ready to move on again, all of them bouncing with eagerness after the bounty from the Addison place. The street was full dark now, but the streetlights kicked in and offered pools of illumination amid the scattering of house lights and Halloween decorations.

  They ushered the kids down to the Winston house. There was little by way of decoration, but they’d been warned that Stan planned on giving all the kids a proper scare-he was sitting on the porch, dressed in the ratty old clothes of a scarecrow, complete with a straw hat and a cheap rubber mask. And when they got close enough. Pow!

  Both parents held back from getting too close and waited for the screams. There was a real chance that Toby was going to cry, but if he did, they’d be ready to handle it.

  Nancy looked back at the Lundgren place again. “His mother.”

  “What?”

  “His mother moved in,” she spoke softly. “It was the family home before the dad passed away and the mother moved back to their old home somewhere in Europe. I think she’s supposed to go back there after she sells the place or something.”

  “How could you know that?”

  “Home Owners’ Association Treasurer. Hello?”

  “Well, I could never stay there.” Linda frowned after she spoke. “I mean, if it had been my son. I still think the place is awesome.”

  “Well, I guess she has a few fond memories at least. You know, of before her son lost his freaking mind.”

  “Listen, don’t.” Linda couldn’t apologize quickly enough. Sometimes it was easy to forget the connections. “I didn’t mean to bring up all of that.” Linda’s tears, Linda’s warnings had brought the wrath of the local police department down on the house so many years ago. She’d narrowly escaped getting done in by the bastard when he tried to grab her.

  “It was a long time ago.” Linda’s voice was soft. “I don’t even really remember him.” She shrugged and looked back over her shoulder again. “If I did, I would have moved away from this town a long time ago, you know?”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” Linda put a hand on her friend’s shoulder and squeezed with her fingers. The two of them shared a quick hug.

  The kids broke the moment apart with a series of loud shrieks that had Nancy half jumping out of her skin before she remembered what was going on and started chuckling.

  Sure enough, it took a few minutes to calm Toby down. The only kid in the world who was terrified of butterflies added scarecrows to his personal phobias that night.

  After the chaos had calmed down and Toby stopped hyperventilating—candy bars have charms to soothe the savage beast—they continued on the way. By the time they reached the Wagner house even Toby was laughing again.

  And Linda was convinced that they were being followed.

  She felt positively paranoid as she looked over her shoulder time and again.

  Nancy might have corrected her on it, but she apparently felt the same sensation of being watched.

  “Seriously, Linda, what the hell?”

  Normally Linda would have called her on the language, even if she was speaking softly, but she felt it too. “Should I call Mark?”

  Nancy looked back the way they’d come for several seconds and finally shook her head. “What would you say?”

  “That some creepy freak is stalking us?”

  “On Halloween?”

  Linda leaned in closely while the kids were talking with Mitzy Wagner. “He ever wants to sleep in the same bed with me again, he’ll get his ass over here and never say a word about it.”

  “Yeah, that could happen.”

  They looked at each other for a long moment and then started chuckling. They were being silly. It was All Hallows’ Eve and the night was surrounding them. Of course they had the creeps.

  “Fine. I’ll hold off, but when we get back to your place, I want Zinfandel.”

  Another house, more candy, more creep out. By the time they were done at the Carpenter house the feeling of being watched was far worse. Even the kids were starting to catch onto something, because now it wasn't just Toby who was making odd little noises and looking around.

  It all came back to Lundgren. The very fact that the house was occupied was enough to be unsettling, but when you added in the weird stuff that seemed to go on around the place as the sun was setting and she was thinking about the murders, well, it was almost impossible not to get a freaky feeling in your guts, wasn’t it?

  “What do you suppose she’s like? His mom, I mean?” Nancy’s voice was strained.

  Linda thought long and hard before she answered. “She’s got to be at least in her eighties, right? I mean, he was in his forties and that was when we were in elementary school, so if that really is his mom in the place, she’s got to be a little old withered crone.”

  “Yeah.” Nancy snorted. “You know, that doesn’t really help all that much on Halloween.”

  Linda wanted to laugh, but her skin was crawling again. “Let’s just get to Arielle’s place and then we’re done.”

  Nancy shook her head; showing a bit of the backbone Linda knew she kep
t hidden for just such emergencies. “No way. If someone’s following us, I’ll call ‘em on it. And if they have a problem, I have pepper spray and I’m not afraid to use it.” Her hand patted the canister that Linda knew she kept in the back pocket of her jeans for any possible situation. When you considered that she’d narrowly escaped getting grabbed by the creepy bastard all those years ago, it was hardly surprising.

  “There!” Nancy’s voice was shrill and she pointed down the road, back toward the Addison house. “That tree, Linda! Someone’s right there. I saw them this time.” Her nerves were shot and Nancy couldn’t control her natural tendencies any longer. She was afraid and she acted like she had since they’d met in middle school. She charged the source of her fear with her teeth bared and her back straight.

  Linda wanted to go after her, wanted to stop her from either making a fool of herself or getting into a situation she couldn’t get herself out of, but the kids were right there and Nancy was moving with a full head of steam.

  And when she got where she was going, there was nothing to see.

  Nancy circled the tree twice, a scowl making her pretty face ten years older the entire time. When she found nothing she came walking back with the same scowl locked in place.

  And while she was looking at Linda and trying to figure out what to say about her rant and her acting out while the kids were watching, Linda saw the shadowy form that slithered up the tree and half crouched on a tree limb that creaked only slightly under the unexpected weight.

  It must have shown on her face, because Nancy stopped and looked at her and then turned to where Linda was looking.

  There was something solid up there. That much they could both see, but exactly what that something was became a bit more challenging. Whatever it was, it looked down at them in darkness and it laughed. The sound was exactly the sort of laugh that made witches so damned scary in movies.

  And the thing slipped closer, crawling out on the long branch of the tree until it was almost directly over Nancy.

  Nancy looked up and stared, her eyes half bugged out and her mouth hanging open.

  Linda shook her head and stepped closer to her friend, but Nancy stayed where she was and trembled. The sound that came from that shape could not quite be called a voice, not really. It was more and it was less; it was the rustle of leaves, the hiss of the wind and the shifting of sand or fine debris but just the same it made words. “You told them tales, little Nancy. Told stories about my poor boy.”

  “I didn’t.” Nancy shook her head but her voice was so small that Linda could only barely hear her answer. “I never did.”

  It moved just a little and looked down on Nancy. Nancy, who looked up with wide eyes and did nothing but tremble.

  “What are you doing?” Linda’s voice rattled as she spoke.

  Nancy did not look at her, but the shadow-thing did. And when it spoke the voice crept through her, slithered like sand into her ears. “Little Nancy hid the truth. She said such awful things about Martin.” Linda blinked and in that brief instant the shadow shape disappeared. When it spoke again the voice was to her left and behind her. Linda turned fast and stared into darkened features in a field of gray, but oh there were eyes, weren’t there, locked in a maze of wrinkles and withered, ancient flesh. There was hair, too, but like the rest of that shape it was wrapped in shadows, hidden in folds of night. “Little Nancy told a lie and my little boy died for her sins.”

  Nancy did not move. Her shoulders shook and her body moved as she wept, but she did not move, did not flee. Did not defend herself from the accusations.

  That voice of grit and dust hissed in Linda’s ear and breathed out a breath that was cinnamon and sand and ashes. “Do you know what it’s like to lose your baby, little Linda?”

  Linda shook her head and as she did, that presence vanished again and was suddenly standing with Nancy. “So a question little Nancy. Answer now before I answer for you. Do I take you, my sweet girl? Or do I take your Tyler?”

  Of course Linda looked. How could she not? She turned her head to Tyler in his ghostly costume and she looked hard for him because he was half buried in darkness, despite that tattered white sheet. He stood as still as his mother, his body frozen in place, the sack that carried his candy dangling from fingers that twitched as his ghostly features stretched in a painful, silent scream.

  “I can take him. A life for a life. You can live on, little Nancy. Or I can have you. I can take you to Martin. He has been alone for so long, lost without anyone to hold.”

  She turned back to the voice and saw the shadow-woman open one long-fingered hand. Gray dust fell from her palm and the motes danced in the air, shifted, and formed an image of a man she had never seen before, his arms crossed over his chest, his face locked in peaceful repose. He was dead, of course, and she could guess his identity. The image shimmered and blurred and changed, the dust swirling into a shroud of smoke and flames that consumed the corpse in moments.

  “They burned my boy’s body. I couldn’t even give him a burial.” Oh, the hatred in those words was a physical thing and Linda staggered back from it, unable to stay any closer to her friend.

  Nancy shook her head and cried openly. Her eyes stared at Tyler for a long moment and then turned to the woman behind her. Woman, or ghost or demon or witch, whatever it might be that could come out on a Halloween night and demand payment for sins committed.

  “Take. Take T-”

  “Too late!” The dark thing slipped back and rose up, a fluttering cloud of shadows that opened arms wide and scattered more gray dust from both palms. The dust swept through the air, defied the mild breeze that should have sent it back toward the Lundgren place, and flowed over Nancy, coating her in a layer of gray that drained her of color. “Too late for you to decide, little Nancy. Too late by far!”

  Nancy coughed and sucked in dust and coughed again, her hands moving to wipe the dust from her eyes. She shook her head and staggered toward Linda before falling to her knees. And as Nancy took her steps and faltered, the shadow thing behind her fell away, little more than dust and sand scattered to the winds, gone in an instant.

  Linda moved automatically, heading for her friend, horrified by the accusations, but also needing to know that Nancy was okay. Nancy had always been there for her, had always been her shoulder to lean on.

  She was going to let that thing have Tyler.

  That thought slithered unwanted into Linda’s mind even as she reached for her friend.

  Nancy coughed again and shivered. And as she coughed, a gust of gray spilled from her lips. She looked toward Linda for a moment and then toward her son, and she reached for Tyler, surely intent on going to the boy she’d almost betrayed.

  Her fingers crumbled into powder and fell away, and that powder, heavy and gritty, slipped through the air and painted Linda’s tongue. Linda closed her mouth instinctively and held her breath as she backed away, but the taste was already there.

  Nancy looked toward her and tried to speak, but that was not meant to be. Her mouth split and collapsed on itself, her face following suit. In less than a minute, Nancy simply ceased to be. She fell into gray powder that spilled across the sidewalk and puffed into the breeze.

  And Linda stepped back, horrified, the taste of ashes in her mouth. Ashes. She spit and spit but the flavor would not go away. Nor would the memories, or the screams of the children behind her.

  Harvest Moon

  Stay around the country long enough, you’re bound to see your fair share of scarecrows. That’s why I prefer the city. Summitville’s a grand enough town, certainly larger than most farming communities, but even with the increased number of shops and a new mall on the way, the damned straw figures were everywhere.

  Summitville is also a little off; the only place I ever lived where the people thought as much of Halloween as they did of Christmas, possibly even thought better of it. Summitville was also maybe a little too well known for its scarecrows.

  I chose to live in Summitv
ille because I wanted a nice, quiet place to spend my retirement. I had been in the city for far too long, I had suffered through the break-ins, holdups, and traffic jams for most of my adult life. There comes a time when you just don’t want to deal with the worst parts of modern civilization anymore. I had reached that decision three years before I could finally retire, and I was more than eager to get on with my move.

  Summitville was a long move but, after hearing from an old college chum of mine that he had visited family in the area and decided to move there himself, I figured I should give it a try.

  I have seldom seen a prettier town. With only about five actual streets, I figured the place to be a good area for escaping the noise and rampant crime in Los Angeles. In my time in the “Big City,” I saw news broadcasts about unsolved murders every night, and I was held up myself on two separate occasions. Listen, after you’ve stared down the barrel of a pistol - screw the caliber, ANY pistol—you start thinking that maybe you could do without the excitement. I hit the old nail right on the head. Summitville is isolated, separated by a lake that actually rests above the town itself and holds the interstate roadways at bay.

  Lake Overtree is filled with trout and bass, and is just about the most glorious place you can imagine to sit and watch the sun rise while you’re dropping a line and waiting for a bite. Tranquil, that’s the word I guess I’m searching for. Why there aren’t a hundred boats on that lake every day of the summer is one mystery I still haven’t figured out.

  All it took was one trip down the gravel road that leads to Summitville, around Lake Overtree and then down into town, and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life there. Damn it, I’d earned the right; I’d put up with too much in my lifetime, seen too many violent deaths and crimes of every type. The view was stunning: a small gem of a town surrounded by forest and hills in one direction and sprawling, lazy farmland in the other. It was simply too pretty for words.

  I wish I’d never seen the damned place.

  All was well enough when I moved there, the people were a little standoffish, but you expect that moving into a small town. If you expect open arms in a tight-knit community, then you’re a damned fool. I knew they’d come around in time; I just had to be patient.