Halloween Everyday

Happy Halloween!

Better late than never, I suppose, but here's this year's Halloween story. This is the third year in a row I've written a little scarey story on Halloween and posted it. I hope you like it!

Halloween Everyday
by Alan Goy

Timothy skipped along in his Darth Vader costume, trying not to trip on the cape. He’d done that last year, tripped on his cape. Only last year he’d been a vampire, but he tripped on his cape and all his candy went flying. He cried. But now he was six and he didn’t cry anymore.

“Timothy!” his mom yelled. “Don’t get too far ahead.” He stopped skipping and looked over his shoulder at his mom dressed as a witch. He’d wanted her to go as Princess Lea, but she’d gone as Princess Lea last year. She didn’t want to go as the same thing two years in a row, but that’s why he chose Darth Vader this year was because she’d gone as Princess Lea last year. Mom’s could be stupid.

He went from house to house hauling in the loot glomming onto a group of kids traveling at about the same rate as him. He didn’t know them, or at least he didn’t think he did. There was a Storm Trooper, a Princess, a Spiderman, a Harry Potter, a… oh, he got a whole box of Lemonheads. Then up the steps to the Tennis Ball Lady. She gave Tennis Balls. They were the best. He could throw it against the garage and try to catch it when it came back.


He stopped. He wished she’d keep up. This was the best day of the year. His favorite day, even more favorite than Christmas because you got to dress up. He wished it could be Halloween everyday. Sweet Tarts. Starburst. Licorice. Lollypops! Up stairs. “Trick or Treat”. Tootsie rolls. “Thank you.” Downstairs. Follow the Storm Trooper and the Mummy. Up stairs. Down stairs. Candy. Princess. Different Princess. Getting cold. Did his mom bring his jacket?


The wind blew a patch of leaves past him. Where was mom? He flipped up his mask for a better look. Some witches walked by him laughing. No mom. He started walking back the way he’d come. Then he ran. Around one corner. Around the next. Where was she? Oh, look chocolate bars. A Goblin, a Vampire, a Skeleton. Black Licorice, yuck! Upstairs. Downstairs. “Thank you.”

Wait, where’s mom? “Mom? Mom!”

“You don’t know where your mom is?” said the Goblin.

“No.” Timothy suddenly felt very cold and very tired.

“Come with us, we’ll help you find her,” said the Vampire.

They walked and walked around corners and corners as the dark got darker and colder. They stopped. Timothy and the Goblin, the Vampire, and the Skeleton.

“Where is she?”

“She’s gone,” said the Goblin.

“She’s left you,” said the Vampire.

“She’s never coming back,” they all said at once.

“What?” Timothy felt so cold. He shivered. He needed to go potty. His mom had made him go before they left, but he needed to go again. Where was his mom? He needed her. He didn’t like these boys. Were they boys? Girls wouldn’t dress like that. Girls wouldn’t scare him. “Stop scaring me.”

The walked closer. Taller than him. Looking down at him. The tree rustled. No one else was around.

“You’re ours now,” said the Skeleton.

“You’re ours now to do with as we please,” said the Vampire baring his teeth.

“Stop scaring me. Stop scaring me. Stop scaring me. Stop!” he said trying hard not to cry. I’m 6. I don’t cry.

They stopped, surrounding him. The wind blew cold.

“You’re lost on Halloween,” the Skeleton finally said. “You’re lost on Halloween. Just like us. When the wind blows the leaves past and the day ends tomorrow will be Halloween again.”

“Next year,” added the Goblin.

“And you’ll walk with us and we’ll get candy and we’ll find another boy, lost to join us,” said the Skeleton smiling. “And soon the costume just becomes part of who you are. It’s not a mask anymore. It’s not face paint. It’s who you are. You are a Vampire, or a Goblin, or a Skeleton, or a movie villain. Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt.” The pushed his face down close to Timothy’s and suddenly what had looked like a painted on skull face now looked like a real skull. “It’s wonderful fun. It’s Halloween every day.”

“I don’t want it to be Halloween every day,” Timothy stammered trying hard not to pee.

“Don’t you?”

“No. I want my mom.”

“Well, she isn’t here.”

“No!” He kicked the Skeleton in the shin and ran. He heard them chasing him. Laughing at him. Chanting his name.

“Timothy. Timothy.”

“You can’t escape us!”

“You’ll be alone and lost if you don’t join us!”

“Timothy. Timothy.”

He ran. He tripped on his cape and fell down on the cement side walk, his bag of candy flying away, spilling everywhere, deep stinging scrapes opening on his hands. Don’t cry. He rolled over and screamed.

“Timothy! There you are. I’ve been worried sick.” His mom reached down and picked him up. He bit her shoulder and looked down the empty street. “Ouch. Stop biting. And don’t run off again. See why I tell you to stay close.”

Timothy just stared down the street, holding on to his mom. He thought, in the distance, he could still hear them shouting his name. There. The skeleton. Three dark shadows, moving away. The wind blowing the leaves.

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