Halloween Visitors

Welcome to The Spot Writers. This month’s prompt: autumn/Halloween. Write a story where a literal or metaphorical ghost plays a prominent role.

Cathy continues with Melvin and his foibles. Melvin has more than one ghost visit him this Halloween...

Note: It’s amazing Cathy has been able to complete this task. Moses S. MacKenzie joined her family a week ago today. She thought the sweet little guy would keep her young; alas, she fears she’s aged twenty years. Look for Moses’ Facebook Page: “Moses the Maltipoo.”

 

Along with short story compilations and books of poetry, Catherine A. MacKenzie has published two novels: WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama, and MISTER WOLFE, the darkly dark sequel/stand-alone novel (18+).  She has also written two volumes of grief poetry that she hopes might help other grieving parents: MY HEART IS BROKEN and BROKEN HEARTS CAN’T ALWAYS BE FIXED.

 

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Halloween Visitors

by Cathy MacKenzie

 

“William, what are you going to be this Halloween?”

“Dunno. Haven’t much thought about it. I have another couple of days.”

“Time’s passing, son. You shouldn’t leave everything ‘til the last minute.”

“Dad, I’m not. Give me a break, will ya!”

“Just checking, William. Just checking.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll come up with something. Going to my room now, that okay?”

“Son, of course. You can go to your room anytime you wish.”

“Okay, then. Bye. I’m leaving.”

Melvin watched his son disappear down the hallway to the bedrooms.

“I’m gone, Dad,” William yelled. “I’m gone.”

“I see, William. You are gone. Sure enough.” Melvin sighed. Mostly for effect. Not that anyone would hear him. Marie was out somewhere—who knew where. William hadn’t heard him. “Goodbye, wife. Goodbye son.” He fleetingly thought of his two girls, both of whom had perished within the deep of the great big sea. He shook his head. That was the previous summer. Enough time had passed. “They” (and Google) say grieving is one year max. Must get them out of his head. Out of his mind. Death’s not an easy subject to deal with, especially when it’s your flesh and blood. And children, at that. Young children who hadn’t even experienced the heartbreaks and highs of life. Two children who wouldn’t be able to dress up for Halloween...

He rubbed his eyes and picked up his phone from the coffee table. Today was Thursday. October twenty-seventh. Halloween but a scant four days away, on Monday. He couldn’t remember what had taken place the previous October. 

Hadn’t Marie talked to William, to get his costume rolling? Heck, Halloween arrived but once a year. Must take advantage of it. If he—Melvin—were shorter (and not so hefty), he would dress up and prowl the neighbourhood. Be a ghost. Jump out at innocent kids. What a riot that would be.

Hmmm, he thought. Maybe I should do it anyhow. But if Marie got aboard, he could ditch the ghost idea, and they could dress as Ginger and Fred, not that she’d much appreciated the Ginger/Fred fiasco during Hurricane Fiona, when they’d danced in the rain. Fred hadn’t minded.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’ll dress up this year. It’ll be fun. William can go as our son. As Fred and Gingers’ son.” Did Fred and Ginger have a son? Hmmm, he thought. No clue. I’ll have to check with Google.

***

In the end, they didn’t want to dress up. Not Marie. Not William. Stick-in-the-muds, Melvin thought. Party poopers and whatever other names I can come up with. Slackers. Duds? Yeah, duds. They’re both duds. Slackers, too.

Melvin wasn’t about to trick-’n-treat alone, not even as a ghost. That would look more than foolish. He’d not look like a teenager. Householders would call him out. He’d feel like The Fool. Nope, didn’t need that stress.

Halloween night dawned dark and dreary. With a slight drizzle of mist-that-might-turn-into-rain. Not as bad as November eleventh, which seemed to bring out weather’s worst. But he and his family dressed for the elements and headed to the local cenotaph anyhow. They’d reverently stand, listen, bow their heads. All in the name of the veterans. A noble cause, for sure. November eleventh was high on Melvin’s list. Should be on everyone’s list, he thought. But, no, young people today can’t relate to horrors of wars.

Back to Halloween...

William wanted to stay home to watch a Halloween movie, the name of which Melvin didn’t catch. Marie said she’d watch it with him. Perhaps she didn’t want him to be scared.

“You can answer the door, Mel,” Marie said. “There’s the candy.” She pointed to a large plastic pumpkin full of wrapped candy.

“Will this be enough?”

“If it isn’t, just turn off the lights and lock the doors.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean ‘then what’?”

“What do I do then? I can’t sit up here alone in the dark.”

“We’ll be in your man cave, Mel. Come down and join us if that happens. We’d love to have you.”

He looked at the clock. A little after five. He glanced outdoors. Still bright despite the drizzle. He eyed the table: set with food. “Let’s dig in.” He forgot his woes and joined his wife and son at the table.

After Marie cleaned away the dishes and the food he’d accidentally dropped on the floor, she called for William and the two disappeared down the stairs.

Melvin pulled apart the living room drapes. Kinda dark out there, he thought. Where is everyone? I should scoff all the candy for myself. And/or take a sheet from the closet and prowl the streets. Do my own thing: scare the kids and—

The first doorbell of the night.

He raced to the door. Opened it. Faced two costumed kids. “Where’s your parents?” he asked.

“Home,” the smaller kid said.

“Dangerous to be out here alone at your ages, you know.”

“Hey mister, I’m fifteen. He’s sixteen. We’re good. Where’s the loot?”

“Okay, then.” Melvin scooped out a fistful of treats and dumped them into the two sacks. He tried to make sure he gave less to the mouthy kid. What the heck! Such misbehaviour. “Take care,” he added, happy to see them turn and disappear into the night.

“Marie,” he screeched. “I don’t like doing this.”

He listened intently. No reply.

The bell rang again.

He raced to the door. Opened it. Faced two young females who reminded him of his deceased girls. Similar colour hair peeked out from their masks. “Sophie? Penny? My daughters?” He reached out to touch—

“Heck no, we’re not your daughters, mister. You a pervert? I’m gonna report you to my father when we get home.”

Melvin dumped the pumpkin holdings into their bags, not caring whether he’d divvied it up equally, and slammed the door.

“Sure looked like Sophie and Penny,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. What the heck! Had he had one too many beers?

When the bell rang seconds later, he ignored it. “Go away,” he mumbled. “Candy’s all gone. I had some weak moments.”

“Melvin, it’s me.”

He stopped in his tracks. Looked around. Had the voice even come from the door? “Me? Who is ‘me’?”

“Me. Kailani.”

“Go away!”

He had almost reached the stairs to HIS man cave (why the heck were his wife and son there and not him? What gave them the right?) when he heard the voice again.

“Let me in. I miss you.”

What? Someone misses me? Yeah, okay...

He slowly approached the front door. Took a deep breath and opened the door to face a beautiful woman. In costume, of course. A mermaid costume. “It’s me. Kailani.”

“Yeah, right.” He slammed the door. Locked it.

He raced to the linen closet. Grabbed a white sheet. Ambled to the full-size mirror and draped it over himself. Couldn’t see, of course. He yanked it off. Found a pair of scissors on the dresser and, after much ado, managed to cut out two holes for eyes. “This’ll do,” he mumbled.

Wearing the “costume,” he slipped out the back door and headed around to the driveway. He’d turned off the outdoor lights (as Marie had so sweetly suggested), and headed to the road, which had few streetlights. He turned right. Glanced back toward his house shrouded in darkness. No kid would go down that long driveway, not without beckoning lights at the end.

A parade of kids strolled on the opposite side of the road. He ducked behind a tree until they passed him. He darted out. Crossed the road and followed. When the last bunch turned down a driveway, he traipsed after them for a few yards and then hid behind another tree. He waited impatiently for their return—when they would receive the Halloween Fright of Their Lives.

He took a deep breath. There they were, sauntering along, carrying their pillowcases of loot. Wonder if they stole Marie’s pillowcases. Look just like my sheet.

He jumped out. “Boo!”

He giggled. How funny was this?

“Boo!” he shrieked again.

The three kids (a pirate, a superman, and a mermaid) backed up like petrified puppies. Even behind their masks, he sensed their fear.

“What?” He took another look. A mermaid?

“Kailani, what you doing here?”

The pirate took off his mask.

Superman took off his mask.

What the heck! Girls: his daughters. Had Kailani, the magic mermaid, managed to bring them back to life?

He rubbed his eyes. Clutched his belly. How did they even know who he was? He was hidden within the sheet, with only his eyes exposed.

“We see you,” they all chimed. “We see you. We have X-ray vision.”

Melvin turned. Sped across the street. Sped past neighbours’ houses. Sped down his long, winding driveway. Sped around to the back of the house.

He collapsed, so out of breath he didn’t think he’d ever see next day’s light. His chest pounded.

He closed his eyes. Saw his girls. Saw Kailani.

No, those trick-’n-treaters weren’t his girls (Marie made four, but she was safe in his man cave); they were simply tricksters. It was Halloween, after all. That’s what kids did. Pretended to be who or what they weren’t.

And that’s what grownups did: jumped out at kids to scare them shoeless. That’s what Melvin had done. And his father before him. “It’s your fault, Dad. It’s your fault.” Would he see his father next? He’d been gone over twenty years. Would the next trick-or-treater pretend to be his dear departed Dad?

He clutched his belly. Give your head a shake, Melvin. Wake up! You’re in a dream.

He pinched his arm. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Pinch your arm to wake up from a nightmare? Yes. But no—no dream.

He tossed the soiled sheet into the green bin and headed indoors. He’d join Marie and William in his man cave, where he’d be safe from Halloween demons.

 

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The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/