Trick or Treat

Trick or Treat

By Josh Arnett

            A chilly breeze blew down the street, picking up leaves and trash as it went. The full moon gazed down, its light partially obscured by clouds. Children and their parents roamed the city in bright costumes, and giddy cries of “Trick or treat!” echoed through the streets. The streets in this neighborhood, however, were quiet and dark. Even the houses were black and silent, as if trying to blend into the night. Something about this part of town made even the toughened urchin think twice about entering after dusk, and it was almost an unwritten rule that nobody disturbed its streets after dark, much less on Halloween.

            A lone figure darted around a corner, the hood of its black robe drawn over its head. It mostly stuck to the shadows, passing quickly beneath the street lamps’ eerie glow. Two bony hands stuck out from the folds of its robes, clutching a scythe. If anyone had been watching, they probably would have wondered what anyone would be doing on their street at such an hour. They might have noticed the way the light gleamed off the scythe’s sharp blade and called the police, but nobody bothered to watch the streets these days, and the figure continued unnoticed.

            It flew down the block and turned another corner, moving like a hunter with its quarry in sight. It stalked past the silent, dark houses on either side until it found the one it was looking for. It moved slower still, as if trying not to disturb the inhabitants. A loud banging from across the street froze it in its tracks, a motionless shadow in the darkness. A black cat, almost invisible in the night, hurried away from the garbage can it had just knocked over, and the figure turned its attention to is prey once again. It stalked up the driveway and onto the porch, its breath coming out in rattling gasps. It could hear its target moving around within and smiled. As it extended a single, bony digit, it knew its moment had come.

            Bill Driggence, the house’s sole occupant for seveal years, was a grumpy, forty-something-year-old who dedicated his life to beer and late-night TV. Nobody knew anything about him, and nobody cared to ask. His place made the rest of the neighborhood look like an amusement park, both in appearance and reputation. A lack of solid information about him had given life to endless rumors and theories, each more disturbing than the last. Most of his neighbors had long-since moved out, and those that remained had plans to do the same. Bill couldn’t have cared less one way or the other. So long as the pizza delivery people found his house, humanity would continue to give him all he wanted of it.

            Just as he was settling down to watch another few hours of a “Jerry Springer” marathon, the doorbell rang. It took him a minute to recognize the sound and another to remember that it was Halloween. Silently cursing the trick-or-treaters, he turned up the volume and took a long swig from the can in his hand, hoping that whoever it was would take a hint and leave. Six rings later, he decided retribution was in order.

Bill shuffled to the door and threw it open, ready to belt out a long string of profanities. He was at first disappointed, and then enraged, to find the doorstep empty. Thinking it was some sort of prank, he grabbed a crow bar leaning against the wall and stepped outside. He reached the end of the driveway and scanned the street for movement. Nothing. Muttering to himself, he turned and started back towards the house, wondering if he’d missed a good fight on TV. A black-robed figure appeared in front of him with the soft swish of cloth. “Trick or treat,” the thing said in a raspy voice.

The scythe swung in a neat arc, and Bill fell to the ground with a bloodcurdling scream. When the police arrived a half-hour later, all they found was the dead, pale body lying in a pool of blood. The body was quickly removed as the officers investigated the area, but nobody had any answers. The case was never solved. Life eventually returned to normal, but those who remain will still warn newcomers and passersby of the mysterious, robed creature that haunts the streets, searching for its next victim.

 Picture by Elizabeth Aurich