User blog comment:CrashingCymbal/Halloween Writing Competition 2013/@comment-4971819-20131025152012

              I used to hate Halloween. It used to be the most stressful, frightening day of the year for me.

Now I don’t mind it near as much.

   Either our youth have gotten wimpier over the years, or the State has put more restrictions on Trick-or-treating. Now the little costumed monsters go to subdivisions and populated areas to knock on doors and beg for candy.

   I wouldn’t say I’m out in the country, but I suppose I’m in a safe zone of sorts. I don’t live in a subdivision, and I get fewer and fewer trick-or treaters every year. Several years ago, I stopped putting up decorations and buying candy altogether. No point in encouraging them to come, after all.



   After all, having fewer of the right visitors makes it easier to figure out which ones are the wrong visitors.

   The wrong visitors used to come in between groups of trick-or-treaters. I had to teach myself to tell the difference between the two. Trick-or-treaters came in costumes and asked for candy. The wrong visitors also came in costumes, but they were looking for more than candy.

   I used to have a peephole on my door. That way I could look out and see who was there without having to open the door. It was at least better than opening the door and discovering the wrong visitor on my porch. If I opened the door, they could come in.

   I removed the peephole. They found out about it. They started using it to peer back in at me. If they can see into my home through the door, they can come in anyway.

   I soon learned another way to tell them apart. The wrong visitors never spoke. If I heard any speech coming from my porch, I could open the door with assurance that I was being visited by trick-or-treaters looking for candy. When I discovered this, I put up a sign on my door for the next few Halloween seasons; “knock and ask for candy.” I may have worded it wrong, because this seemed to discourage a few groups of trick-or-treaters from paying me a visit.

   They adapted.

   Two years later, I had a single person knock on my door and plead for candy. I was about to open the door, but I caught myself when I heard nothing else from my visitor. No breathing, no shuffling of impatient feet. No heartbeat. I had very nearly opened the door for one of them.

   I waited with a pounding heart until the visitor stepped off my porch and left. Then I took down the sign and burned it. It was useless now. How many of the wrong visitors had I already let in?

   I’ve tried and failed many times over the years to find new ways to keep the wrong visitors out of my home. I finally found that the best method was a No Trespassing sign attached to the mailbox. The trick-or-treaters no longer came to my home. From that point on, I knew that anyone knocking on my door on Halloween night was either a hooligan looking for trouble or one of the wrong visitors.

   I thought this would bring me security. It did nothing of the sort.

   They come in droves now. Every Halloween, I get more and more of them knocking on my door. They no longer disguise their intentions, since we both know exactly what they want. They sit on my porch for ten, twenty, sometimes thirty minutes waiting for me to let them in. I won’t do it. I know what they want, and I’m not giving it to them.

<p class="MsoNormal">   Last year, I counted fifteen of them. Their visits carried on long past midnight, forcing me to stay awake and stand vigil by my front door. I had to keep them from letting themselves in. I don’t know if they can, but I didn’t want to risk it.

<p class="MsoNormal">   This year, I’ve boarded up my door. I’m not taking any risks this time. They won’t get in. If they do, they’ll find themselves on the wrong end of my shotgun. Not that it’ll do any good. My neighbor two houses down tried that. They took his joy.

<p class="MsoNormal">   I thought about shooting through the door at them when they arrive. Then I remembered what happened to the man a few miles down the road. They got in through the holes in the door and took his will to live. He was later found dangling from a rope in his barn.

<p class="MsoNormal">   I know better than to try negotiating with them. The woman that lived here before me apparently bartered with them every year to keep them from taking anything vital. She left this place and emotionless wreck.

<p class="MsoNormal">   There’s nothing I can do once they get inside. I’ve had several sneak in. Once they’re in, they don’t leave until they have a part of you. That’s why I have to keep them out. I can’t afford to give up anything else!

<p class="MsoNormal">   I don’t know how you feel about Halloween, but I’m just giving you this warning. Be wary of who you’re opening your door to. Some of the costumed children want more than just candy.