In Creeps The Night

by Natalie Gibson

  “DADDY? I’M TIRED.”

  “We won’t be much longer, Sarah. How about you, Tommy?”

  “I’m okay. I want to get as much candy as I can!”

  “Just a few more houses then. Do you think you can do that, Sarah?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Enjoy it while you can. You two are growing up so fast it won’t be long until you’re both too big for trick-or-treating.”

  “Not me!” Tommy said. “I want to do this every year—forever!”

  Jack looked around and said, “We haven’t been down that street. What do you say we do that one and call it a night?”

  “That street? The one with the weird house on it?”

  “What do you mean, Tommy?”

  “There’s this creepy old house there. My friend Brad told me the people in it are really strange.”

  “How so?”

  “He said they never come outside. And people hear weird noises there at night.”

  “How would he know? Brad isn’t old enough to be outside at a late hour.”

  “Well—that’s what he said.”

  “Besides, if the house is a little spooky, that’s the kind of place you want to visit on Halloween.”

  “Do we have to?”

  “Come on. You’ll be all right.”

  As the three walked down the darkened sidewalk, Jack thought how cute they looked with Tommy wearing his homemade zombie costume and Sarah sporting a pointy, black witch’s hat and carrying a plastic jack-o-lantern bucket to hold her candy. He had put a glow stick inside to make the eyes and toothy grin light up, much to Sarah’s pleasure.

  When they arrived at the address in question, Jack noticed the house was not in the best condition. Sarah saw the crooked branches overhanging the walkway and stopped short of the gate.

  “It’s okay, honey. See? They have the porch light on. That means they’re giving out candy. You like candy, right?”

  Sarah shrugged.

  “Come now—I think you like candy a lot!” he said tickling her enough to make her giggle.

  As they made their way through the overgrown path, the shadows from the dim light encouraged the children to stay close to their father. Jack helped Sarah up the porch steps while Tommy was satisfied to wait at the bottom.

  “Go ahead,” Jack urged. “Knock on the door.”

  Sarah looked back for reassurance. Creeping closer until she was just able to reach the door, she stretched out her hand and tapped on the dark wooden panel. They waited a bit, but there was no response.

  “That wasn’t much of a knock, Sarah. Try again—a little harder this time.”

  A moment after doing so, the knob turned and the door creaked open. A frail woman peeked around the edge.

  “Yes?”

  Jack held out his hand for Tommy to approach. “Now what do you say?”

  Tommy swallowed, then said, “Trick-or-treat,” as Sarah held up her glowing jack-o-lantern.

  The woman looked at each child in turn, and then stared at Jack.

  “If this is a bad time—“

  “No. No, it isn’t,” the woman interrupted. “It’s that we seldom get children here for Halloween anymore.”

  “What is it, Edna?” came a voice from within.

  “Children, Fred. Children are here.”

  “Children? Here?”

  “Yes.”

  “For Halloween?”

  “They have costumes, so I think so.”

  “Really?”

  The old man’s face popped into view behind the woman.

  “Oh, my, yes. They are children. Dressed like little monsters.”

  “That’s more accurate than you know,” Jack remarked. “But if you’re not passing out candy, that’s all right.”

  “Of course, we have candy—and we love little monsters—don’t we, Fred?”

  “Yes—yes, we do!”

  The couple continued to stare until Jack said, “If you don’t, it really is okay.”

  “No, we most definitely have candy,” the woman insisted. “I believe it’s in the other room. I’ll get it now. It will only take a minute.”

  “Oh—all right.”

  “Do you mind if I close the door while I get it? One can’t be too careful these days.”

  “I suppose not,” Jack replied.

  The old woman shut the door, setting multiple locks afterward.

  “Dad, these people are weird,” Tommy whispered, “Can’t we leave?”

  “They’re just old, Tommy. Probably scared to death of strangers.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll be on our way soon. Leaving would be rude.”

  Several minutes passed before any sound came from behind the door. When it opened, the old woman appeared again.

  “I have the candy now. I hope it didn’t take too long.”

  “That’s okay. Hold out your buckets, kids.”

  “I have several pieces for each child. We have a lot because so few children come to our house.”

  “That’s very generous.”

  “And a piece for you, too, sir.”

  The old woman smiled and nodded for the first time.

  “Why, thank you. What do you say, kids?”

  They both expressed their gratitude, but not with great enthusiasm.

  “I have to go now,” the woman said.

  She shut the door quickly. The sound of locks clicking followed.

  As they departed from the house, Jack said, “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

  “I got a lot of candy,” Sarah noted, admiring the contents of her jack-o-lantern.

  “Even I got some.” Unwrapping his tiny prize, Jack said, “Looks like a piece of plain, white taffy. And it’s cold—must have been in the refrigerator. Anyway, let’s go. It’s getting late.” As they continued toward the next house, Jack popped the candy into his mouth. “Wow. That’s sweet. Must be pure sugar.” He choked a little, grabbed his neck, and said, “That didn’t last long. Slid right down my throat. You kids are going to have to be careful when you eat these.”

  When they arrived at the next house, Sarah was still admiring the candy in her glowing bucket. Both children went up to the door, but only Tommy yelled, “Trick-or-treat.” When the door opened, Sarah held up her bucket long enough to receive the offerings, then returned to studying her treats.

  Continuing on their way, Jack rubbed his stomach and said, “Could we skip this last house? I’m feeling a little off. And you’re probably getting tired, aren’t you, Sarah?”

  “I’m okay, Daddy. And it’s only one more.”

  “All right, but that’s the last one.”

  When they arrived at the front gate, Jack leaned against the fence post, breathing heavily.

  “You kids go on ahead. I’ll wait here.”

  After a few minutes, they returned.

  “Dad? Are you sick?”

  “Not feeling the best, Tommy. That candy was so sweet. I can still taste it. We’d better go.”

  The three began their journey home with Jack holding his stomach, Tommy walking like a zombie, and Sarah playing with the contents of her jack-o-lantern candy bucket. Being more concerned with that than where she was walking, she bumped into a signpost.

  “Sarah, please. You have to be careful. Are you hurt?”

  “No. I was just looking at my candy.”

  “Well, hurry up. I need to go home.”

  “I can’t go any faster!”

  “Stop playing with your candy, Sarah. I need to get back to our house.”

  “I was just watching it.”

  “It’s only candy,” Jack said between shaky breaths. “It doesn’t need to be watched.”

  Sarah picked out several of the white, rolled treats. “But, Daddy,” she said holding them in front of her father, “my candy is moving.” Under the glow of a streetlight, they could be seen writhing and squirming from the warmth of her open hand. Something in one appeared to be chewing its way through the waxy wrap
ping. “See, Daddy?”

  There was no reply.

  “Daddy?”

  CARLIE JERKED AWAKE, her heart pounding from the nightmare she couldn’t quite remember. Stretching, she rolled over and froze. This wasn’t her bedroom. Or rather it was, but everything was different. From the wine-colored walls, to the cherrywood dresser and even the floral print comforter on the bed.

  The two windows in the room resided in their proper places although different curtains hung there. And the closet was the same. Where had those posters come from? And that shirt lying over the chair she had never seen before: she didn’t own a shirt like that. Yet deep down, Carlie knew this was her room. The same room she’d spent all seventeen of her years in.

  The closed bedroom door caught her eye. Long, bloody scratches gouged the wood. She scrambled from the bed and crossed the room, peering at the marred door. Bits of human fingernails were caught in the grooves. The darkness from her nightmare crept over her, tightening her chest with a fear she couldn’t identify. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out both the lingering feelings from her nightmare and the gruesome gouges that seemed to bring it back.

  When she opened them, the scratches were gone. What the hell was happening? Carly grabbed the doorknob and wrenched the door open.

  A strange girl about her age stood in the hallway, her hand outstretched as if she’d been about to open the door. Her wide, gray eyes stared at Carlie with terror pooling in them. She backed away and yelled down the hall, “Mom, she’s here again!”

  Mom? Why would this girl’s mom be here? This was her house. “Of course I’m here,” Carlie snapped as frustrated irritation welled up. “This is my room. My house. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  A middle-aged woman hurried down the hall saying, “Oh, Amber, not again.”

  Amber trembled. “I hate this house. She’s always here. I need my homework and I can’t go in there, not with her there!”

  Carlie scowled. “Not with me here? Hello,” she waved her hand, “stupid Amber girl, this is my room. If you can’t come in here with me for whatever reason then go home. If you hate this house so much, and me too obviously, then don’t come here to begin with.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Amber,” the mother said, casting a worried glance at Carlie.

  “Just leave, will you!” Carlie yelled and slammed the door in their faces.

  From the other side of the door, Amber screamed. Footsteps fled down the hall. Good, she can just run herself right on out of the house. Carlie glared at the unfamiliar posters. Her blood thrummed with anger. What gave them the right to change her room?

  With a snarl she grabbed the nearest poster and ripped it from the wall. Another and another quickly followed. She grabbed the shirt and tore it in half then kicked the chair it had been resting on across the room. Whoever had done this to her room could shove it. Carlie sent a mirror crashing onto the floor. The cherry frame splintered and the glass shattered.

  From somewhere beyond the room she heard Amber wail, “She’s ruining everything!”

  Carlie yanked the comforter from the bed and turned to throw it on the floor. Everywhere she looked, blood-caked scratches with broken fingernails marred the walls.

  With a cry, Carlie dropped the comforter and covered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Her pulse jumped as terror poured through her veins. Darkness welled up, threatened to drown her. The darkness from her nightmare.

  Her hands shook as she lowered them. “What…?” Carlie stood and turned in a slow circle, staring at the clean walls.

  Heart still pounding and legs still shaking, she crossed the room and opened the door again. The empty hallway greeted her. Carlie looked back at the room that was hers but wasn’t. She needed to find her mom. She wanted her mom.

  Breathless, she bolted down the hallway and skidded to a stop.

  The house was the same, but everything in it was different. The furniture, decorations, even wall coloring. Carlie stared around the room, her fear returning full force. Where was all of her parents’ stuff? “Mom?” she yelled.

  No answer.

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. The voices of the woman and Amber drifted from the kitchen. Carlie licked her lips and turned toward her parents’ bedroom. The short walk seemed to stretch on forever until she stood in front of the closed door. Slowly, she pushed it open.

  “She’s going in your bedroom again,” Amber said.

  Carlie shot the girl, who had walked out of the kitchen, a dark look. “This is my parents’ room.” She turned to look. Everything was changed.

  She turned on Amber. “Where are my parents?”

  Amber looked at the woman that she’d called mom and didn’t answer. Tears of fear, confusion, and mounting anger welled in Carlie’s eyes. She snatched a vase full of flowers off a small table and hurled it at Amber. It narrowly missed the girl’s head and shattered in a shower of glass, water and broken petals against the wall.

  “Mom, hurry!” Amber cried, cowering away from the broken vase.

  “Yes, hurry up and tell me where my parents are. Who the hell you are and what you’ve done to my house?”

  Amber’s mother walked slowly across the room with a piece of newspaper clipping in her hand. She laid it gently on the dining room table and backed away. She took Amber’s arm and steered her away. “Come on, she will look at it when she’s ready. We can’t do anything more.”

  “What are you talking about? Why won’t you just answer me?” Carlie shouted in a broken sob. Why did she have to cry whenever she was mad?

  She crossed her arms and glared at the piece of paper for a long time. “Fine, whatever. Since you’re going to do nothing but play games with me.” Carlie stormed across the intervening space and picked up the clipping.

  From the faded newsprint, her own face stared back. “Ten Years Later, Missing Teen Still Not Found,” read the headline.

  Her blood turned to ice and her heart froze. She couldn’t breathe as her eyes continued to read though her mind wanted to run away.

  “Seventeen-year-old Carlie Roberts went missing on her way home from school nearly ten years ago. Though her parents still live with hope, the local police say it’s unlikely she will be found…”

  The clipping fluttered from her hand. Around her, on every surface, long scores tore through the paint and wood..

  Carlie cried out at the pain in her fingertips. She held her shaking hands up. Blood caked them and her nails were all ripped out. The darkness from her dream welled up and crashed over her, dragging her under.

  It was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Carlie struggled to suck in a breath of the stale air then let it out in a scream as blind panic ripped through her. She clawed desperately at the wood above her and kicked her feet in the tiny space.

  She floated in silence, in the numbness, in the peaceful part of the loop. The only part of it where she understood it all. Where she knew that she would be a prisoner of the loop until her body was found and she was properly put to rest. This part of the loop lasted the longest, giving her a reprieve from the horror that had been her death.

  Carlie jerked awake, her heart pounding from the nightmare she couldn’t quite remember…

  Cactent, Cactent what did you do,

  Crashing through that door of blue?

  Cactent, Cactent seeking water,

  Collect it from the sons and daughters.

  THE WORDS DRIFTED in my open window, high-pitched voices chanting in singsong unity punctuated by the rhythmic slap-thump-slap-thump of children jumping rope. I hugged my knees to my chest and pressed my eyes closed, silently begging the words to stop; trying by sheer force of will to make the children go away and leave me in peace. For a moment they did. High pitched giggles replaced the dreadful chant and I crawled, shaking, across the floor to close the window.

  Cactent, Cactent what did you do?

  Slap-thump-slap-thump

  I stopped and clapped my hands to my e
ars, trying to stop the words; trying to stop the memories.

  Crashing through that door of blue?

  Slap-thump-thump-THUMP

  I was back on New Sahara again, huddled behind the blue door of the windowless safe room with my friends and classmates.

  THUMP-THUMP-THUMP

  The door shook with the impact of the monster trying to get in. Part of me knew that I was really here on Gaia, that centuries had passed as I returned over and over to the safety of deep sleep and yet another star system. Still, I bit down hard on my lower lip to keep from screaming.

  That morning the desert forest had come alive. The grownups had rushed around checking instruments and shouting orders while the ground shook and the giant cacti closed in on our little compound.

  I clutched my safety buddy’s hand like a lifeline as we huddled in the dark listening to shouts and screams and gunfire outside.

  “One, two stick like glue,” she whispered. I squeezed her hand hard, a silent reminder to be quiet. “Three, four shut the door.”

  “Five, six seal your lips.” I whispered back

  Slap-thump-slap-thump

  They were coming. Fear constricted my throat, crushed my chest and tingled in my fingers. A scream lodged in my throat and froze there. I couldn’t feel my safety buddy’s hand. I groped around for her in the dark but the crowded safe room might as well have been empty. Frantically I crawled along the floor, my hand feeling around for anything I could use to stop what I knew was coming. Something about the light was wrong. Things were in the wrong places and part of my mind told me that was important, but I couldn’t focus beyond my panic. I tried to squeeze myself under the bed again, but I didn’t fit like I should have. My hand closed around a laser pistol under the bed.

  Cactent, cactent what did you do?

  Slap-thump-slap-thump

  I stood up, and aimed at the door…no, the window the monsters would be coming through, and pulled the trigger. Children screamed. Somebody started to cry in great wailing sobs.

  “Sh. Sh. It’s ok,” I whispered. Through the shattered window I could see a stream of blood and wondered how it had escaped the voracious thirst of the Cactents.