Author's note: This is my entry for the Trick or Treat, Short and Sweet Halloween Writing Challenge 2023.
As the cloud of pot smoke dissipated around old man Harlan's head, the angsty pock-ridden face responsible bared its yellow teeth with a sneer.
"Saying we're 'too old to trick or treat'? What are you, the po-lice?"
"No, but they'll be on their way if you don't get off my stoop. Your parents too, Tanner."
The miasma of stale beer and bruised ego gently wafted away as Tanner and his motley crew grudgingly retreated to the dimly lit, leaf-laden streets.
The four teenagers stood in the shallow light of a nearby lamp, a few houses down.
"Wadda dick. We should egg the place!"
"Nah. I got a plan. But y'all pussies probably won't be down…"
"Whatcha have in mind, Tan?"
The young man revealed his devious idea to his cohorts, who were more than enthusiastic about it. The goal? The whole lot of Harlan's homemade mini pies, the only non-mass-produced treat that wasn't thrown away by parents at the end of the night, and for good reason. The parents wanted a bite.
"Won't he know it was us, though?" "Fat Matt" piped up, "He certainly saw through your costume…"
"Well, I guess we'll just have to ensure he doesn't see us then. That means you're out, fat ass."
Tanner peeled the cheap dollar store skeleton mask from "Fat Matt's" face, donning it as he and his slender cronies hopped a fence into Harlan's neighbour's backyard.
About twenty minutes went by before Matthew began to feel concerned. He was patient, as was evident by his trying friend group, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Within the next ten minutes, it had dawned on him: they probably succeeded and left him behind. Assholes. Not so much as a text; nor response to any that he sent.
There's no way they'd been caught, or Harlan would've called the cops, for sure.
Another five minutes later, Matthew was on his way to Tanner's house.
"No, he ain't home yet, but you can tell him that he's better off not coming home at all if he wants to avoid a whoopin'!"
The door slammed shut on Matt's face. It was evident that Tanner's dad had found out about the beer. Or rather, the lack thereof. Tanner's pa was all talk though, he'd sooner lick a toad than give his son a lick from the belt.
He checked the other fellas' houses too, not trusting them to answer their damn phones after the fifth try. Unfortunately, Matthew was stumped.
The last place Matthew wanted to be was his own house. Unlike Tanner, he didn't have the luxury of a father that was all talk. In fact, he had no dad to speak of. Just a mom. One who smoked a lot of cigarettes. Cigarettes that never found themselves snuffed out properly, unless you'd call his arm an ashtray. That nasty smell was the least of his concerns.
Eventually, Matthew found himself back at the scene of the crime. Old man Harlan's house was the only one with lights still on. He couldn't tell how long he'd been wandering.
Suddenly, a warm yellow light bathed him in its glow. The door was open, and the silhouette of Mr. Harlan stood squarely in the frame.
"Little late for trick or treating, isn't it, son?"
"Y…yeah. I guess so. I lost my friends." Matthew stammered.
"You lost them, or they lost you?"
Matthew's face turned somber. It wouldn't be the first time they'd ditched him. Maybe he was playing the fool by looking for them.
"Why don't you come inside? I could use a hand."
Matthew didn't need to think twice. This could be the in that he needed. While his "friends" had to resort to trickery, he could get some pie through honest means.
It didn't turn out to be so easy, however.
Rolling dough, packing the filling… whenever Mr. Harlan looked away, he'd sneak a mouth full of the sweet, velvety mince.
"Why don't you help me with the sauté for the next batch?" Mr. Harlan said as he guided Matthew to the large pot on the stove.
Matthew began to stir the mixture, as the old baker began to dump ground meat and some sort of thick, pink sauce into the pot.
"Is that meat? I always thought the pies were some kind of fruit mix."
"There is fruit in the sauce, but you can't compete with the texture and substance of the chuck."
"Susie O'Hara loves your pies… She's a vegetarian!" Matthew said enthusiastically, as a grin broke on his face.
"I guess we'll just need to keep this our little secret, won't we?" Harlan smiled warmly.
Time seemed to fly by. Before he knew it, Matthew had a freshly baked Harlan pie in front of him.
"Go ahead son, dig in."
Before Harlan's words had finished leaving his mouth, the pie was being stuffed into Matthew's. Deliciously smooth, creamy, sweet. Now that Matthew thought about it, he could see how the filling was meat all along, although it was certainly well-masked by the other ingredients.
For how delicious it was, there was something off about the pie. It was a little too… dry.
"Y'know, I've never had a helper before, it was nice. How do you like the pies?" Harlan said, sliding another in front of Matthew.
"Delicious sir, but there's something a bit-"
Something caught Matthew's eye, sending a chill down his spine, and halting his appetite.
A familiar skeleton mask, speckled with blood, peeked up at him from a bin near the back door.
Mr. Harlan's smile faded.
"You were saying?"
Matthew's heart began to race.
"It… it…"
"Go on, please. I'm open to criticism."
Matthew took a deep breath.
"They're a little dryer than I remember…"
"Ah, well. The meat is usually a little fattier. I suppose I could start another, fattier batch…" Harlan said, as his face darkened. "Or, we can keep this our little secret."