When I try to write horror stories, I purposely avoid setting them around Halloween. Not to say I dislike the holiday for any particular reason, far from it - I love it. It’s the one time of year that my passion is sensible to everyone around me. Otherwise, I get confused glares over why I’m writing about rolling heads and blood fountains in the middle of April. I’m no longer looked at as the weird guy that is into scary stuff while everybody is enjoying the current prime time show that everyone else is raving about. Instead, they IMPLORE me to share my stories, they want to be scared around that time of year.
But as much as they ask for it, I don’t write Halloween stories. The answer is actually rather plain: I don’t like to. It feels almost too generic to set your story around the most Cursed Time of Year, the night where the gap between the living and the dead is at its thinnest, spiritual energy is at its most critical density, and the most mysterious and spooky miracles can occur. And I don’t want to be thrown into that lot. Especially since it limits the reach of such a story, in my eyes. Once Halloween is over, there’s no reason for people to be engaging with it. Good horror should be able to stand on its own two legs outside of that one day of the year. I know there are those who would disagree with me, but it’s just how I feel. And so, I don’t tend to write about it.
Until this past Halloween, that is.
I tend to lean into the fantastical with my tales, never really drawing from personal experiences one-to-one, but after that night, I felt that I could write this one down. I think it’s just too weird to not be shared, and it might get a scare out of a few of you, so here goes nothing.
Being a Halloween enjoyer as I explained earlier, I had prepped my house for trick-or-treaters with all the props I had; fake spiderwebs, a plastic skeleton sticking partially out of the bushes, some creepy colored flood lights, and the ever classic jack-o-lanterns. My wife was taking our son out, so I was on door duty, handing out the goods to the neighborhood kids. I was laid back in a lawn chair with a massive bowl in hand, fake blood marks across my face and tattered clothes on with straw poking out from the edges. The wide brimmed hat made it a little tricky to see at times, but that just made my occasional jump-scares a little more frantic and realistic - after all, from the sidewalk I just looked like a normal prop scarecrow.
This was unfortunately the wrong play to make for a particular group of teenagers. After startling a low effort Ghostface with a wild scream, someone pulled the hat down hard over my eyes. My instincts took over to lift it back up, but it was stuck on the tip of my nose.
“C’mon, grab some quick!” “Serves ‘im right!”
Before I could get the hat off, I heard the slapping of sneakers take off down the street, and once I could see again, the bowl had been nearly cleaned out, with little to no candy left on the ground either. With a grumble, I decided to call it for the night anyways, since it was starting to get late.
I dragged the lawn chair back around the house and made my way towards the front to turn off the lights. That’s when I spotted her - a young girl, probably in her pre-teens, standing on my porch. She wore a white and blue dress, slightly frazzled hair flowing out from a big black ribbon, and carried a tiny basket under her arm, which did not appear to be overflowing with hard earned treats. Of course, just being a plain Alice in Wonderland for Halloween wouldn’t cut it, and so she had a hideous smear of black eyeliner across her upper face to up the spookiness. If her eyes were missing, I would’ve believed them to have been burnt out of their sockets.
It wasn’t just her eyes that gave me an “undead” vibe, however. Fake blood stains surrounded her mouth, spilt down her chin. Her skin, paper frail as it appeared, clung to her extruding bone structure. And its shade, white as winter snow, pale as true death - it truly was as though a corpse had come to visit me this All Hallows' Eve.
But it was her expression that gave me the largest pang of sympathy; the poor girl looked absolutely horrified, and she was staring directly at me. Maybe my outfit was just too much for the poor thing.
“Happy Halloween!” I initiated, raising a hand as I approached the front door. I took off the hat and tried to smear off as much of my own makeup as I could, before tilting the bowl forward to show it was empty. “Just a second, let me see if I’ve got anything left inside.”
Her eyes dropped to look at it for a moment, before meeting my gaze again and nodding slightly. I smiled back and turned to walk inside when she let out a scream.
“No! Wait!”
I had one foot in the door frame as I pivoted, nearly losing my balance as I rushed to look at her again. “What? What is it?”
But again, she went quiet. We were simply standing there, staring at one another. I could see her lips attempting to make words, but nothing would come out.
I decided to try and prompt an answer for her fear. “Are you alright? Do you need help? Call your parents?”
The girl’s mouth opened wider this time, but still an explanation would not come out. I could see her lips were horribly cracked, and an offer of water felt like it was about to leave my own mouth. She took a deep breath, still watching me oddly enough, before finally speaking: “Please… don’t let me out of your sight.”
My brow furrowed, and I turned to close the front door while I spoke with her. She screamed again. “That! Please don’t do that!”
A flicker of frustration began to take hold. “Look, I don’t know if this is some kind of prank, like ‘haha TRICK or treat’, but if something serious is going on-”
“I-I’m sorry, I’m just…” She lowered her head, trying to lower her gaze. But I could still see her rapidly and repeatedly checking to see if I was still looking at her. “Yes, I need your help.”
Guilt replaced my anger, and I sighed. “Well, alright, do you need to call your parents? The police? Did someone attack you?”
“N-no! Nothing like that. I just need YOUR help. You ARE John Heffler, right?”
For the third time in less than a minute, my state of mind shifted - now, to one of concern. Not only for her, but for myself. This random girl, screeching at me to not look away from her, knew me by name. But I hadn’t a clue on earth who she was. Still, if she needed help, who was I to turn away a kid in need? “Yes.. I am,” I responded hesitantly.
“Then I can’t let you look away. Please.”
“I don’t understand.” I scratched my head and gazed up and down the block, quickly, before meeting her eyes again to make sure she wouldn’t cry again. “Why me specifically?”
Alicia held her forearm with delicate fingers. I could hear knuckle joints popping as she did so. “I don’t know how to explain it…”
“Well, try to, please. My family will be home soon, I’m packing up for the night, everyone else is done on this street. If you went trick-or-treating too far from home, I’m sure the police would happily take you home, or… maybe I can-”
“Alicia. My name’s Alicia.”
“Okay, nice to meet you, Alicia. But that still doesn’t answer my question. Do you need to call someone?”
Once more, she went silent. I was completely flabbergasted by this encounter, and the hay stuffed in between the seams of my outfit were starting to itch real bad. I put my hand on the doorknob and turned, opening the way inside while still keeping an eye on her. “Look, uh, I don’t know how to help you. If you’re not comfortable talking to me about it, I can grab my phone and you can tell the police then.”
Alicia stepped forward, stopping at the base of my small porch landing. “Okay… yes. Yes, let’s do that.”
“Okay, just a minute then.” I nodded slowly, perturbed by her behaviour, and stepped into my house. As I tried to close the door behind me though, I felt hard resistance - and found Alicia making her way into my house. That nervous look still riddling her face, I just sighed and gestured for her to follow.
The smell of burnt pumpkin was mingling with my wife’s autumn spice candle. It was an assault on the nostrils, and since I was done for the night anyhow, I decided to tame one side and put out the jack-o-lantern on the window sill at least. I gave a glance to the girl, but surprisingly she gave no reaction to the sickly overwhelming stench. Perhaps she just really enjoyed every aspect of this holiday… including cruel pranks.
At first I tried to lead her inside, but Alicia refused to leave my line of sight, to the point of trying to walk abreast with me, despite the hallway to the phone not accommodating it. “Ah, Alicia, please… just, let me get to…” I didn’t even bother finishing, because no matter where I turned, there she’d be, always where I could see her, always watching back. As parents, we always tell kids not to wander off “where we can’t see them.” This girl was taking that command to its most literal meaning. My suspicions of abuse began to increase, just slightly.
She stayed still the entire time I was on the phone with the cops, even when I tried to offer the phone to her. It took longer to convince them than I would’ve preferred, but it was understandable - cops getting a call on Halloween about a creepy young girl tormenting someone was probably an all too common prank. But eventually, I was able to assure them of my seriousness. I told them about her strange behaviour as quietly as I could, using that obscuring language adults do around children, but I knew she understood. A small ripple of pain - rejection? - emanated across her face, but still she stayed.
Once the call was complete, I took Alicia back to the porch. She reached for my hand to lead, since I wouldn’t let her do the hallway shuffle again, and taking her back that way seemed to do the trick. Her hand was not soft as I’d expected a child’s to be, but rather emulated the texture of what my brain had compared it to - peeling layers of paper, grinding into dust between my fingers.
Once in the porch, I turned on the light and kneeled down to explain the situation to her. It was tough to keep my face from scrunching up in scrutiny though; she looked far more pale under the yellow light than I had thought prior. The black smear surrounding her eyes like a bandit mask was also cracking, revealing bags upon bags of exhaustion beneath. Still, I held firm my position on the matter. “The police will be here in a few minutes. They’re gonna have some questions for you, where you live, who your folks are, and then they’re gonna take ya home, just like that.”
Her eyes widened at the thought of leaving, and she shook her head furiously. “No no no, please! You can’t let them take me away!”
I stood back up. “Alicia, I don’t know you. I don’t know why you know me, but this has to stop now.”
“Please…” she whispered.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I debated the next question in my head: Are you afraid of your parents? Have they done something to you?
“YOU are my parent.”
Heart dropped in an instant. Sickness clenched my guts with an upsetting fist. “W.. what…”
Once more, those silent lips moved, struggling for an answer. “It’s you…” she said quietly.
“I…” Too many questions were now spiraling around. I thought back, trying to recall any other girlfriends I may have “finished” with that could’ve possibly led to this. Only one came to mind, Jackie, but it had been so long since then and the relationship so quick, I couldn’t recall her last name.
“Wait here.” I turned and hurried upstairs, leaving the screaming girl behind. By the time I was on the second floor, she had stopped. Perhaps Alicia was just seeking attention, but I had another goal in mind now - and I needed a moment away from her weirdness. Within my bedroom closet, I searched through old boxes. Somewhere between family photo albums and old school medals for track, I found it; my high school yearbook, graduating year.
Instinct, and vicinity, made me check the inside covers first. They were covered in teenage chicken scratch, mixes of well meaning wishes from dear friends, and half hearted goodbyes from people who just wanted to sign something. Eventually, I stumbled across Jackie’s note - written rather plainly, but still thanking me for a “great prom night”. I shook my head trying to clear the memory - that was certainly a possibility for how I could have another child I’ve never met. But of course, no last name - yearbook signature was too casual for that.
So my fingers raced for the class photos next, speeding across countless faces of classmates I’d long since forgotten about. Then, finally, under the Fs - Jackie’s last name. I got up and hastily went back downstairs to call and confirm if Jackie was Alicia’s mother.
“DON’T DO THAT AGAIN, PLEASE!”
I thought I was about to have a heart attack when the girl howled at me. I gave her a glare to end all glares, channeling as much disapproving energy as I could towards her. But Alicia still gave me that pale faced look. In fact…
“You look awfully pale. You want some water or something? I think there’s still some juice boxes in the big box out there…”
“I’m poorly made, John.”
An exasperated huff was forced from my lungs. “I’m calling your mother. It’s Jackie, right?” I started down the hallway, but as my head swung away, I could hear the girl begin crying. I couldn’t take it anymore; my frustration boiled over. “WHAT?” I shouted.
“P-please… don’t forget about me again. I disappeared…”
I thought she’d misspoke. “No, I didn’t ‘disappear” on you, I just went upstairs-”
“You’re not listening. I disappeared.” Her fatigued stare grew wet with tears, no effort made to wipe them away. They mixed with the makeup to create black streaks that trickled down her cheeks, staining unholy river lines all the way down.
I stopped in the hallway. She had my full attention as I attempted to understand what she meant. An inkling of an idea burrowed around in the pile of possibilities, but I dismissed it as fantastical garbage. A good concept for a story though.
“Yes…” Alicia whispered. Her voice was growing hoarse.
“Yes, what…?”
“That thought, your guess…” Each word sounded as though it had to be drawn from deep within her, taking her last gasps of breath along with them. Her whole form seemed racked with exhaustion.
“That’s twice now. How are you doing that?” My feet had unconsciously begun to shift me towards her.
Her head swung limply towards the window. “They’ll be here… only forty-three more words…”
“Would you please make an ounce of sense? This isn’t funny anymore, you got me, haha, trick-or-treat! Whaddya want, some candy? Come on, outside-”
“Fourteen.”
“Alicia-” I nearly started to shout again, completely out of patience, but the quick blip of a siren brought relief from this confusion.
Her gaze dropped from the window to my feet. “If you let me leave your mind one more time… I’m done for. Please… don’t let them take me.”
I didn’t bother responding this time. I was done with the games.
I walked past her and opened the door for the approaching officers. They took the sullen girl out of my house, led her to their cruiser, and then asked me the expected round of questions. I answered as best I could, still completely confused by everything she’d been saying. The officers initially suggested that she was strung out or perhaps had some mental health issues that needed addressing. They dug into me a bit more for letting her inside my house, saying that it was a safety issue for both our sakes, but regardless of her following me inside I simply nodded and apologized for it.
As the interaction was wrapping up, one of the officers pointed at my garb. “Nice costume, by the way.”
I looked down; I was still in the scarecrow outfit. With the attention drawn back to it, the itching returned instantly in full. “Oh! I completely forgot I was wearing this.”
“Yeah, looks pretty uncomfortable.”
“Ach, it’s not that bad. Only when it starts getting sweaty, that’s when it gets bad…”
The other officers gestured to my face. “Makeup’s a mess, too.”
“Yeah, I’ll clean up once I head back inside. I was going to do it before all of… this.”
“Well sir, we’ll be heading out then.”
“Yeah, no, hey, thanks for the help guys. And happy Halloween.” I offered a handshake and each officer took it in turn, before I waved them off and stepped back into the porch to watch them leave from the window.
Their reaction upon returning to the car brought me back into the night. They were wandering around the back of the police cruiser, checking the doors and windows frantically. I spotted what was the cause for confusion immediately: the complete lack of a young girl in the back seat. Not a single sign indicated that someone was there. No shreds of clothing, no left over ribbon, not even her barely filled basket of sweets. When common sense yielded no answers, one of the officers aimed her flashlight back at me. “Is this some kind of prank call?”
They ended up staying and investigating for another two hours, during which my wife and son came home to find me repeating the events of the evening for the third time. Eventually, they were satisfied enough to head back to headquarters, getting ready to put out a missing child alert. From what I understand, they never figured out how the girl escaped the locked cruiser, let alone without leaving a single sign.
And now, a year later, putting these memories to paper, I think I know the answer. Alicia told me as much. I just didn’t put it together at the time. I smirked to myself reading these closing words, wondering which one came first - or rather, whose existence depended on the other. Maybe it’s both. All I know for certain now is, I cannot write Halloween stories after this. Not while I know the cost.
Even now, sitting in my lounge chair, laptop burning my thighs, I keep trying to think of a way to fit her back into this story, into this moment. But even with this entirely forced sentence, remembering her little white and blue dress, the big black bow in her golden blonde hair, and that disturbingly pale complexion, she won’t return.
Forgive me, Alicia.
Written by RedNovaTyrant
Content is available under CC BY-SA