A Short story by Cody Craig
Published in Halloween 3.0 Anthology
My name is Bobby, that's not my real name of course. What sort of an idiot do you take me for? Using my real name would see me doing some serious time or at the very least spending the rest of my life in a padded cell. Anyway I'm hoping that by putting my sins in ink will lighten the burden of guilt that I have been carting around for the past ten years.
It all started way back in October a week after my sixteenth birthday, Halloween. Mike and I were just at the age where the thrill of trick-or-treating had lost its appeal. Halloween was quickly becoming a non-event, a night no scarier, no spookier then any other night.
Well being typical sixteen-year-old boys we were always on the lookout for a little adventure. Actually looking back in hindsight you wouldn't exactly call it adventure more like trouble. Anyhow this Halloween I decided early in the day to spice it up a bit for Mike, I was planning to play the mother of all practical jokes on him. Seeing that it was probably going to be the last Halloween that we would venture out trick-or-treating, I was going to make it a night that Mike would never forget.
I'll have to skip the events of the daylight hours and come back to them later; it makes for a better story that way.
Well darkness descended on our neighborhood, pretty much as it did every night before and every night after that fearful Halloween. We were sitting out on the front porch watching neighbor�s light their jack-o-lanterns. Pumpkins started to glow up and down the street everywhere, their malevolent carved faces flickering in the gentle night breeze. Pretty soon the street was bustling with young kids dressed in full Halloween garb, the younger ones accompanied by their parents or older siblings.
At eight o'clock we decided that it was time to leave the shadows of the porch and go for a stroll down the street. Being too old to get all dressed up and knock on doors, we would get our kicks by hiding behind trees or in bushes and scaring the living daylights out of unsuspecting kids, usually sending the poor blighters running home to their parents in tears.
We walked to the end of the road; you see we lived in a cul-de-sac. It was very dark down there, the last sodium vapor light was three houses back and its weak yellow glow was just strong enough to make a pool of dim light around the base of the pole. Plenty of dark shadow to hide in, also at that far end of the road was the Fletcher house. Now every neighborhood had their own Fletcher house. You know the one, usually an old dilapidated house with an overgrown yard, its occupant a social outcast who was just as equally dilapidated as the house. The house that all the kids steer clear of, rumored to be ruled by a coven of witches or the hiding place of a psychopathic killer. I think you've got the idea now. A pretty scary place when you're just a kid.
Well we get to the Fletcher place and Mike was ready to hide in the bushes and scare the little kids, but I had other plans.
I say, "How about going into the Fletcher house?"
Mike just looks at me, he wasn't sure if I was serious or just pulling his leg.
"I dare you."
Now if you knew Mike, you'd know that he wasn't one to let a dare pass uncompleted or at least die trying. He had a reputation to uphold. Other kids at school use to call him Mad Mike for that very reason.
But I wasn't sure if he was up to this dare, especially tonight of all nights.
"You're kidding, aren't you?" He glared at my face, looking for a smirk or a hint of a smile.
I was prepared and had already wiped the smirk off my face.
"No. Deadset I dare you!"
"Okay," he says.
I could tell by the look on his face that he really wasn't too keen on going in there. But I think that he was more afraid of me telling the other kids at school that he refused a dare. Well, he had worked hard at getting the reputation of being the toughest kid in school and he wasn't prepared to blow it all over one stupid little dare.
So he starts off down the concrete path that carved a walkway through the waist high grasses and weeds to the front door.
I stood at the edge of the road, waiting, anticipation building in the pit of my stomach. My bladder was about to bust.
He climbs the porch and knocks on the door, instead of the solid thump that you would expect to hear there came a soft thwack followed by a raspy squeaking sound. I knew at that time that the door had swung open when he had tried to knock on it.
Mike turned around and looked at me, he was hidden in dark shadows so I couldn't make out his facial expression, but I knew that he would have been shitting himself.
I motioned for him to go inside. He hesitated momentarily, probably to take a deep breath and try to calm his nerves and then he vanished into the dark hole that had been left by the door.
I waited, listening carefully. I knew that in a short while I would hear a scream of terror. A scream that would only be fitting for a night such as tonight, Halloween.
A couple of minutes later I wasn't disappointed, right on cue, an ear piercing shrill penetrated the dark night and echoed throughout the street. I�m sure that it could've been heard right across the other side of the neighborhood but tonight no one would have thought twice about hearing such a scream.
I start to laugh, no matter how hard I tried to contain it, out it would flood. I laughed like I had never laughed before, tears were rolling down my cheeks, my stomach and chest were aching so bad that I was paralyzed.