Halloween Contest Entry #3: True Horror............Arion

I was eleven years old and it was Halloween--my favorite holiday. I had a ghost costume all read, a huge shopping bag with handles was ready for my edible loot, and my best friend had agreed to trick-or-treating with me. Everything was going to be perfect, I was sure.

Halloween night arrived, and my friend Pat was dropped off at my house by his dad. I'd not seen him since summer ended, and we went to different schools now. After renewing ties, we hurried to get into our costumes; his devil outfit was very convincing--red pajamas with horns and a forked tail sewed on by his mom.

My mom wished us both good luck, and saw us out the door. She wasn't worried, as we lived in a safe neighborhood and there had never been a serious crime in the city's history for more than thirty years.

After carefully working our way around the block, we began to work our way outward in concentric circles. We always went to the houses which had lights on, and always to ones which sported either Jack O'Lanterns or some sort of decorations on. Those that didn't, or were dark, we knew from experience were inhabited by "unfriendly spirits". Gradually, our bags began to grow heavy from candy bars, suckers, gum, and the occasional homemade treat. I will never forget the wonder of accepting a whole caramel apple on a stick from a woman I'd always thought of as a grouch. She even offered us homemade brownies, too, and told us a story about the Halloween when she was a girl: bobbing for apples and scary stories told around a bonfire! We thanked her, but didn't remain long. We had loot to collect before it got too late!

As we walked away from that lady's house, I remember seeing a blue Ford Mustang with white racing stripes parked across the street. I thought it was odd that an old retired lady would have such a hot-looking car, but then the thought vanished as a kid I knew came racing by, shouting that the Vollmer family was offering hot cider on their back porch! Pat and I ran ahead to get some before it was all gone.

The Vollmers also had a weird Halloween display in their backyard: a swimming pool with little floating Jack O'lanterns and skulls out on the water! As we gazed in wonder, electric fans stirred the water in sequence, causing the floating pumpkins and skulls to dance around on the dark water. Pat and I had two glasses of cider, watched, and then excused ourselves, being sure to thank the nice people.

"Wow!" said Pat, grinning at me as we walked down the sidewalk. "That was neat."

"Yeah," I remarked, glancing up at the dark velvet sky and then at my good friend walking along beside me. Across the street I could see a herd of little kids being escorted by their mother. Jack O' Lanterns danced and grinned on almost every doorstep, and it was still only 7:30! "It doesn't get much better than this!"

Half a block further down the sidewalk, the joy of the best night of the year turned to terror! A couple of big kids burst out from the bushes, screaming at the top of their lungs. A fist crashed into my shoulder, spinning me about like a top. Even as I cried out in surprise, hands grabbed at my candy bag and tried to tear it from me. I gripped the handles, and the bag ripped, spilling some treasure where I fell. Laughter echoed from the surrounding trees and I realized I was lying on my back in a pile of low junipers. The big kids were sprinting down the sidewalk, laughing. They hadn't even bothered to take my hard-won candy. At the end of the block they leaped into the hot rod I'd spotted earlier and raced off down the street in a squeal of rubber.

I lay there for several moments, shocked and dismayed at how quickly my most favorite holiday had been ruined. And those responsible thought it was funny!

Pat appeared from nowhere and helped me to stand up. Seeing that I was okay, he checked my bag and told me that except for a slight tear in the side it was okay.

"What was that about?"

"Those are the *real* Halloween monsters," Pat said. After a moment, I agreed with him.

We trick or treated a bit more, but somehow the zest had gone out of the evening, and we turned back to my house after only a few more minutes. I kept glancing at the rip in my bag, not to check for spillage, but as though to remind myself that the incident had actually happened. Though I enjoyed my chocolate and caramel and other goodies, I never forgot that moment of terror and horror. And I wanted to be sure that it didn't happen again.

In later years, when I grew too old to take part in Trick-or-Treating, I would get out my bicycle and ride through the surrounding streets. Sometimes I wore a mask in the spirit of the evening, but more often I went out unmasked. I watched the little kids in their various outfits and laughed. Although I missed taking part in the ritual, I loved the clothes and the pageantry of it all. Sometimes I took pictures, and sometimes I just said, "Nice costume!" The kids always smiled and waved, and if their mom or dad were with them I always saw the flash of parental pride. For the first time I really understood the adult perspective. And that made my mission even more important.

Exactly ten years after my assault, it finally happened. Just three blocks from my own house I saw two guys my own age stalking and harassing some younger kids. Without a word, I rode my bike in between them, dismounted, and told them to knock it off.

As I faced off against the bullies, I recognized them: Randy, whom I'd gone to school with, and Mark, the older brother of a girl I knew. Both were big, bulky guys. They seemed bewildered at my appearance, and even more so for stopping them from grabbing their prey. I told the kids to run to the nearest house for help, and shouted and threatened their assailants.

"What are you doing?" Randy asked, looking confused. We'd shared a music class once, and while we weren't exactly friends we were acquainted. I'd never thought him capable of something like this. But then, as Pat had told me on that fateful night, REAL monsters are the ones you think you know.

"This is Halloween," Mark said. "This is what people do."

"Oh, I didn't realize this was your license to be evil!" I gave him a shove. Mark fell down, blinked, started to speak, then jumped up with a snarl and threw a punch. I side-stepped the blow, gave him a fast shot to the middle and then a roundhouse which put him down for the count.

Randy hadn't moved, neither to help Mark nor to stop me. He was just standing under the street-lamp, bewilderment covering him like a bedsheet. Finally he said, "Why?"

"Because they," I nodded over my shoulder, "were once me." I risked a look to my back, and saw a woman standing on her porch, speaking into a telephone. The two trick-or-treaters huddled nearby, the overhead light illuminating a frightened witch and a cowering Frankenstein.

A siren sounded in the distance. Randy flinched, panic routing his confusion.

"Go ahead and run," I snapped. "They can always pick you up later."

He stared stupidly at me. "You - You'd tell them who I am? Where I live? You'd...testify against me?"

How quickly predators become prey, I thought.

Randy was struggling to his knees. He stared at me with open hatred.

A patrol car rounded the corner and came racing up the block, its lights flashing. I ran over to the cops, waving my arms. Randy turned and made a sprint for home, leaving his buddy, still in a huddle, massaging his belly.

Fifteen minutes later the trick-or-treaters were back on the circuit, Randy and Mark were on their way to the Gray Bar Hotel, and I was eating a Milky Way miniature, a gift from a grateful Frankenstein.

I have always hated bullies, and do what I must to stop them.

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