Mischief Night

by Paul Melniczek

  MISCHIEF NIGHT

  A Novella by Paul Melniczek

  First Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press & Macabre Ink Digital

  Copyright 2011 Paul Melniczek

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  The Raid

  "Hey Rusty, how much corn do you have left?" Tommy Miller questioned his freckled friend, a big grin crossing Rusty Patton's face.

  "A whole shopping bag full -- that should be enough."

  Tommy nodded. "I still got pretty much; went down to the field again Monday. Couple of cobs, too."

  The seventh graders walked down the sidewalk as a brisk October wind rustled the fallen leaves which were scattered around the grass lawns of their neighborhood.

  Several piles sat patiently in the gutter, waiting for the leaf collection trucks to make their rounds. The boys gazed at the houses, continuing their short hike home from the school bus.

  "Tommy, look at the Crawford's place."

  Rusty pointed a thin finger to his right, and the pair looked at a huge jack- o'-lantern carved in the likeness of a cat, sitting on the front step of a two-story house.

  "We'll smash it tonight," Tommy answered.

  "Better run fast, then. If Mr. Crawford sees us, we're in big trouble. He knows my dad, they go down to the bar sometimes." Rusty was nervous at the thought, but that was part of the fun.

  Halloween raiding was an adventure, the trick being not to get caught.

  Both of the boys' parents allowed them to go out, but with two conditions -- they could only take corn, and had to be in by nine. The boys could deal with the rules, although they would bend them at times. They approached an intersection. On the far side was a large maple tree; strips of toilet paper were strewn about its lower branches, as if decorated by an insane artist.

  "Rob Sterner did that. Don't know where he sneaks all the toilet paper from." Rusty laughed at the scene, which posed a major headache to the property owner.

  "He takes it from the school bathroom," Tommy said.

  "Really? He's crazy," answered Rusty. "If he gets caught, he'll be in detention for a week."

  "Yeah, he's nuts all right. Hey, did I tell you, Jimmy Krick is coming over later. He's raiding with us tonight."

  Rusty stopped, looking over at his friend as they reached the other side of the street. "Jimmy? Talk about crazy...I don't know if we should go with him."

  Rusty adjusted his backpack, looking worried, the brown hair fluttering in the breeze.

  "It's okay. He's not that bad," said Tommy.

  Rusty wasn't convinced. "I heard he broke three windows last year, and soaped up a police car."

  "Well, don't worry. If he tries anything like that, we'll just tell him no."

  They approached Tommy's house, and he turned around, shoving Rusty lightly. "Seven, all right? Meet us out front here, and make sure you bring enough corn."

  "See ya'," replied Rusty. He crossed the street, angling towards his own house, which sat across from Tommy's. He frowned though, at the thought of Jimmy coming along.

  He really hoped the boy wouldn't cause any trouble.

  ~ * ~

  "Ready?"

  Tommy and Rusty nodded, as Jimmy counted on his fingers. The boy was a pale figure on the wooden porch, taller than his two companions. He reached 'three' and in unison the trio jumped up and down, stomping relentlessly on the floorboards. Laughing hysterically, they bounded away off the landing and ran, cutting through the neighboring yard. Lights came on at the house they'd left behind, and a dog barked from within. Wordlessly they continued their flight for another block, until they were convinced that no one had followed.

  "Good one," said Tommy. "We probably gave them a heart attack."

  "That'll teach them to leave their lights off, won't it?" Jimmy's smug grin gave the boy a malicious appearance in the darkness.

  "We still have some time left, let's go." Jimmy crouched behind a hedgerow, and the others followed him. They scrambled across to a stone alleyway, leading up a small hill, which was wooded at the top. Jimmy hurried ahead and the alley ended, stopping at a poorly-lit street. Few houses were there, mostly older stone dwellings. Across the road sat a solitary home, fronted by a bank of ivy, crumbling steps leading up to the entrance. Moss clung to the house like fungus. Half of the roof tiles were missing, the grass was unkempt, and dark woods loomed ominously behind the backyard. A single light escaped from an upper window, forlorn and sinister in the chill night.

  "Now that's a creepy-looking place," said Jimmy. "Who lives there?"

  "Old man Berger," replied Rusty, a shiver going down his spine. "He's some German guy, lives by himself. One time Mickey Davis yelled at him to go back to Germany, and he came over to us, but we ran away. I've seen him once or twice after that, and he looked at me like he wanted to skin me alive."

  "Yeah, his place is supposed to be haunted." Tommy shook his head,

  unable to take his eyes off the mysterious house.

  "Cool...A real haunted house, and here we are on Halloween.

  Perfect." Jimmy fingered a tomato, and Rusty looked at him in alarm.

  "I think we better go, it's getting late." Rusty looked over at Tommy, hoping for support.

  "Wait, we have to hit this place before we leave." Jimmy turned to his companions. "You don't believe in ghosts, do you?" Tommy shook his head, but Rusty was silent.

  "Oh, come on now, you guys call yourselves raiders? Now this...is raiding."

  "I don't know," answered Rusty. "It's scary."

  "Well, we're not going inside for trick or treat," Jimmy mocked, gesturing with his hands in front of Rusty's face. "Jump on the porch, throw a cob or two, then run. If he's just an old man, then what's the big deal? Tommy?"

  Jimmy looked at Tommy now, the boy showing some hesitation. After a few moments, he encouraged his friend. "It's all right, Rusty. Let's do it and we'll run home."

  Already moving forward, Jimmy went into the street, the other two following reluctantly. They reached the sidewalk in front of Berger's house, and Jimmy started up the worn flight of steps leading to the rotting porch. Rusty came last, and he glanced up at the gloomy upper reach. He gasped in fear as a shadow appeared at a window, and then it was gone.

  "Wait," he snapped, "I saw him look out."

  His friends stopped, scanning the building with straining eyes. After a few seconds, Jimmy spoke in a hushed whisper. "I don't see anything; you're just scared. Come on."

  He reached the porch, and the others approached with less confidence. Gesturing with his hand, Jimmy crept to the curtained front window, peering inside.

  "Guys, you ain't gonna' believe this. Come her
e."

  Heart pounding in fear, Rusty stared at Tommy's back as he stood with Jimmy. His legs felt leaden, his eyes darting left and right as he joined them.

  Rusty gazed inside, a small curtain with tattered holes revealing glimpses of the interior. Black candles were placed in an odd pattern, circling the edges of a low table. The wicks sputtered wildly, caught in some unseen draft.

  "Wow, that's weird." Jimmy let out a low whistle, his breath fogging the glass.

  "Look! What's that?" Tommy pointed inside, his fingertip touching the window.

  The boys followed his gaze to a diminutive form hunched over in one corner. It appeared to be a small man, apparently sleeping, the face hidden within the folds of an odd-looking robe.

  "That can't be Berger, he's too small," said Tommy.

  "Is that a dwarf?" Jimmy pressed his face against the cold glass. Rusty had an ominous feeling, and was ready to bolt away. Then, from somewhere in the street, a low voice pitched upwards, accompanied by a short bark. Instantly they slunk down, with Tommy crawling to the rim of the porch.

  "Berger's coming -- he's walking his dog. And it looks mean."

  A shuffling, bent figure approached the house, holding the chain to a large black animal, looking more wolf than dog.

  "Oh no, if he catches us we're dead meat," Rusty's voice quivered.

  There could be little doubt as to what intentions the group had on the man's porch this late, on Halloween.

  "Quick, over the side, then around back."

  Jimmy was already next to the stone ledge bordering the porch. He pulled himself over and disappeared. Tommy backed up to where Rusty knelt, motioning his friend to follow. Rusty shook with fear, and knew that he had to run. Glancing inside the window briefly, he noticed that the sleeping figure was gone. His eyes grew wide and spider chills crawled along his skin.

  What was it? And where had it gone? But he had no time to think as Tommy reached the stone and the sound of Berger drew closer. On hands and knees, Rusty made it to the edge and slunk over, dropping onto the ivy that strangled the foundation of the house. He followed Tommy's retreating form as he snuck along the side of the home. Rusty joined him as a harsh growl erupted from the front of the building.

  "Where's Jimmy?" Rusty was breathless from fear and the short sprint, and Tommy darted his head around, searching for their friend.

  "He couldn't of gotten far. Where is he?"

  They had no idea where the boy was. Dozens of yards away stood the dark woods, and rotten tree stumps littered the backyard. To the side of the house lay a wide stretch of grass, and the moonlight would have clearly revealed anyone crossing. The sound of a closing door reached them, and they stared at each other in horror. It came from behind the house.

  "Someone came outside," hissed Tommy. He hesitated. "Or went in..."

  "Now what?" Rusty's pulse raced. Visions of the strange little man swam before his eyes. Were they trapped? There was no other noise from Berger. For all they knew he could be waiting out front. Rusty felt like he was drowning, indecision freezing him.

  "Got to find Jimmy. Let's check the back. If you see anything, run like crazy, and don't stop."

  The pair crept along the house, expecting at any moment to have someone jump out at them. Thorn bushes lined the home's exterior, the nasty undergrowth cringing against the cold stone as if trying to scale the walls. Tommy reached a corner that blocked the view from the back entrance, and arched his neck as he gazed around the edge. "Nothing here, come on."

  The suspense was unbearable -- Rusty felt ready to scream. A narrow porch sat a few yards to their left, the wooden planks warped and bent upwards at several spots. A dim light spilled out from a partially shuttered window next to the porch.

  "I don't see anyone. Do you think Jimmy went inside to hide?" Tommy's question was a terrible one. What if Jimmy had gone in? He would be taking a dreadful chance of being caught. But then again, Jimmy had done some outrageous things before.

  Tommy moved to the window, and Rusty turned around, worried that Berger might sneak up the side of the house.

  "Hold on," he whispered, returning to the corner. Nothing stirred. Rusty returned, gazing across the silent yard as he rejoined Tommy's huddled form.

  "It's clear. Berger must've gone in."

  Easing up to the window, they held their breath, not daring to disturb the frame. Through the cracks, they saw a table in the middle of a modest kitchen, a seated figure facing the back door.

  It was Jimmy!

  The boy stared straight ahead, unmoving...

  Two mouths gaped wide at the sight of their friend inside the forbidden home. But that was not the worst of it, for standing on the table was the little man, his back turned to the spying boys. He was gesturing to Jimmy, his tiny hands swaying in front of the boy's face like a diabolical maestro directing his orchestra. Rusty shuddered.

  "Wh-what's he doing to him?" Tommy's voice whispered in Rusty's ear, but the boy was unable to respond.

  As they watched in horror, Berger entered the kitchen, his gaunt form leering down at Jimmy, whose lips moved mechanically, mesmerized by the waving limbs of the small man. Berger nodded, speaking to the bizarre dwarf, a malevolent grin piercing his face, empty and humorless. Without warning, Jimmy stood, the movement dreamlike and controlled. He shuffled towards the door.

  "What's he doing now?" Rusty felt Tommy's hands gripping his shoulder, palpable fear in the tight hold. "Are they letting him go?"

  Jimmy reached the door, and the boys struggled with indecision -- to leave the house far behind, or try and help Jimmy if possible. The door opened.

  "Tommy, Rusty. Come on inside. Mr. Berger wants to talk. He knows where you are." His voice was low and emotionless.

  At that moment, the little man turned around, staring straight at the two boys, who watched in horrid disbelief. The dwarf had a long pointed nose, and a face that looked like a rotten apple core. A pair of wicked yellow eyes gleamed menacingly, and small fangs protruded from a cruel mouth. They bolted away, almost knocking each other to the ground in an attempt to escape the evil house and its hideous occupant. Jimmy laughed at their fleeing forms, the sound lacking any semblance of mirth.

  "He knows who you are. You can't run from him."

  They raced away in the night, their tension finding release. Fear gave them the endurance needed to carry their weary frames past the long blocks back to their own neighborhood. They passed trick-or-treaters and another group of pranksters, ignoring all of them, their only thought to reach the comfort of home. Neither boy spoke until they collapsed onto Tommy's front porch, gasping for air, cramped and tired.

  Almost immediately the door opened, and Tommy's mother looked out.

  "Well, what have we here. You two rascals had enough escapades for one night?" The boys stared at each other, not knowing where to begin.

  "Tommy, I have a message for you. Jimmy's mom just called. He thanked you for letting him come along."

  "What? Jimmy's home?" Tommy stood up, his face pale and disbelieving.

  "Of course. He went to bed already; guess it was a long night for you guys. He was excited about Halloween, and wanted to get some rest. Is that so strange?"

  Neither of the boys spoke. Jimmy had gone home, without a word concerning Berger or the dwarf? Impossible...

  "Come on, time for bed, Tommy. Good night Rusty."

  She gently tugged on Tommy's arm, pulling the confused boy inside. Rusty felt very alone now, and walked over to his own home, eager for the security of familiar surroundings. He scarcely said a word to his parents, who were watching an old movie on TV.

  "Hey Rusty, did you have fun?"

  The boy nodded wordlessly and went up to his room, locking the door behind him. He lay back on the welcome softness of his bed and noticed a light flashing on the answering machine. His parents had given him his own phone line for friends to call. Rusty's hands trembled as he pressed the button, retrieving the message.

  "Hey, it's Jimmy.
Just called to tell you I had a great time tonight."

  There was a brief pause. Jimmy's voice then changed, drawling out the next sentence.

  "Your turn is coming soon."

  Recoiling in horror, Rusty stood, his young face aghast at the dire warning left on the tape. He had to do something. His parents needed to know, and if they heard the strange message, maybe they would believe him. The tape rewound itself, and he pressed the play button again.

  "Hey, it's Jimmy. Just called to tell you I had a great time tonight."

  Click!

  There was nothing else. But how…Nothing made any sense. Rusty was chilled to the bone. A realization dawned on him then -- there was no denying it. He was dealing with something extremely weird and unknown. Jimmy had been taken...changed somehow. And both himself and Tommy were in danger.

  He was suddenly very afraid.

  Rusty paced about the room, the clock hands moving to the darker hours. Sleep was far off, and on a whim he jumped up, locking his bedroom window -- the night wasn't to be trusted. He decided to call Tommy, to convey his fears, and also come up with a plan. Rusty dialed the boy's number. Tommy also had a private phone, and they sometimes called each other late at night. But nothing. The line was dead.

  Rusty's hands felt cold and lifeless, holding the receiver. A coincidence, or something else? He went to his closet, bringing out a telescope. He carried it over to the window, now unlocking it for a clearer view through the screen. The lens needed adjustment, and after several moments he zoomed in on Tommy's house. The angle of his own home was perfect for a direct sighting, and he moved the frame into position. Rusty peered into the scope, and saw a faint light coming from Tommy's window. There was no sign of his friend, but he was probably in bed. A single downstairs lamp was on, and Tommy's parents were night owls, so nothing unusual there.

  He turned the lens again and stopped. Something moved at the side of Tommy's house. In the bushes, which sat below the terminal box. Rusty felt a new wave of chills crawling along his back. Then, a small figure appeared wearing a hat, climbing up the drain spout that passed within reach of Tommy's window. It was the dwarf...