Dark Hallows: 10 Halloween Haunts

by Mark Parker

  His mother had cried a lot in the days that followed, and nothing Jonathon did to cheer her up seemed to help.

  Jonathon's mother had been a little happier last year when she made a new friend named David, but that friendship didn't last long and David didn't come around anymore. Jonathon thought maybe his mother and David had a fight. He hoped it wasn't about him. He knew his mother hadn't liked how David would come to the house so late at night sometimes. David would smell funny and talk too loud and Jonathon's mother would say, "Don't wake Jonathon," because she didn't realize Jonathon was already awake from the noise.

  Jonathon also knew that his mother didn't like some of the things David told him.

  David had been the one who told Jonathon about the Pumpkin Eater.

  The Pumpkin Eater wasn't someone who ate pumpkins, as the name might suggest, but was instead a giant living pumpkin who ate little boys.

  In their sleep.

  In their beds in their darkened bedrooms.

  This monster pumpkin pulled itself out of the field and dragged itself across the land and devoured those too small to defend themselves.

  David said the Pumpkin Eater was awakened every October by people taking its friends to carve them into jack-o’-lanterns. This angered the Pumpkin Eater, who then roamed the town every night seeking revenge, not returning to the field until Halloween was over. There it would sleep until the next October came around.

  Jonathon believed the Pumpkin Eater had to be real. An adult said it was, after all.

  That was why thoughts of the Pumpkin Eater were filling Jonathon's mind as the cold October wind howled against the side of the house.

  He should have been asleep hours ago, but Halloween was tomorrow and the Pumpkin Eater was out there right now.

  Lurking. Waiting. Hunting.

  Jonathon's bedroom was on the second floor of the house, right next to his mother's, and that should have made him feel safe, but what if the Pumpkin Eater found a way inside?

  The light of the big full moon passed through the skeleton branches of the lonely tree in their backyard, projecting bony shadow fingers through the window of Jonathon's bedroom.

  These fingers crawled across his walls.

  They waved, they shook, and they trembled.

  "Go away, Pumpkin Eater," Jonathon whispered, his blankets pulled to his chin, his tiny fingers clenched tightly. "Leave us alone and don't come back."

  Tomorrow was October 31st. After that the Pumpkin Eater would return to the fields to rest for another year.

  Just one more night and Jonathon would be safe.

  ***

  The children at school the next day couldn't contain their excitement. Most of the teachers couldn't, either. Halloween brought out the little kid in everyone.

  The best part of the day was the school's annual Halloween parade.

  It was a big deal.

  The parade was also the first time Jonathon got to see his costume, which his mother worked on in her room in secret after he went to bed. She said the costume had to be a surprise or it would lose its protective powers.

  Jonathon would lie in bed and listen to the hum of the sewing machine making stitch after stitch. The heavy sewing machine sat on a table at the foot of his mother's bed and Jonathon knew she lost a lot of sleep trying to get his costume just right.

  When the time of the parade arrived, Jonathon and his classmates happily made their way to the cafeteria where their parents waited with their costumes.

  Jonathon passed through the double-doors of the cafeteria and began searching for his mother.

  At first he couldn't find her.

  His heart sunk a little—had she forgotten?—but then he spotted her standing in the corner, holding a big black trash bag.

  Jonathon rushed to his mother, waving and smiling. He hugged her.

  She smiled and pulled his costume from the bag.

  He felt the smile melt from his face. He couldn't help himself.

  His mother held a pumpkin costume as big as the biggest pumpkin they had ever seen in the farmer's field outside of town. The costume was round and made of soft velvet. There were thick black stripes, a brown stem, and a traditional jack-o’-lantern face stitched on the front. Narrow eye holes would allow him to see where he was walking.

  The costume reminded Jonathon of the Pumpkin Eater so much that he found it to be terrifying.

  Jonathon saw the disappointed look on his mother's face and he forced a smile, and his mother forced a smile back, but he knew she was heartbroken.

  That made him heartbroken, too.

  Jonathon kept smiling as his mother draped the costume over his head.

  He felt like he was being smothered. The costume was heavy and he had trouble walking, but he told his mother he loved it.

  As Jonathon marched through the school with all his happy friends, a deep sadness grew inside him, one unlike any he had ever experienced before, not even when their television was stolen or the nights he listened to his mother crying through the bedroom wall.

  Why did he have to be a giant waddling pumpkin that reminded him of his worst nightmare, when all of his friends got to dress up like something fun?

  ***

  That evening, as the lingering shadows reached across the neighborhood and a cool breeze blew between the trees, the trick-or-treating hour drew closer and the butterflies of anticipation were a nervous wreck in Jonathon's stomach.

  His mother helped him get ready, and this time he was certain he had done a better job of convincing her he loved the costume. He had decided it didn't really matter what his costume looked like as long as he got to go door to door with his friends collecting candy and having fun.

  That was what the night was all about.

  Once Jonathon was ready, his mother walked him to a neighbor's house where he met up with several of his friends. They were dressed as vampires and werewolves and zombies and Superman and Batman and Harry Potter.

  Some of his friends had fancy decorated sacks for their loot, but Jonathon carried a generic plastic pumpkin with a black plastic handle. He hoped it was big enough for all of the candy he would be hauling home. His plan was to have enough to get him through Thanksgiving, which was when the Christmas cookies would be made.

  Although his mother and the other parents were trailing close behind, Jonathon barely noticed them as he and his friends rushed from door to door, knocking and waiting and then yelling, "Trick-or-treat!" as the door opened and some adult—sometimes an adult like a grandparent, sometimes an adult the same age as their parents, sometimes a bored teenager who wasn't technically an adult yet—distributed pieces of factory wrapped candy.

  Most people gave you one piece, some people gave you two, but the very best house on the block was Doctor Brown's house. Mrs. Brown let you take your pick from a fancy crystal punch bowl filled with full size candy bars.

  When given the choice, Jonathon always grabbed a Butterfinger. They were his favorite.

  As he and his friends hurried from house to house, Jonathon couldn't help but wonder who among them were the real ghouls and goblins. This was the one night of the year when there were more strangers than friends on their street. He didn't recognize most of the monsters carrying sacks of candy. This worried him, but he knew his costume would protect him from the real monsters, just like his mother had said.

  And like every previous year, his mother was right.

  Jonathon arrived home safe and sound at eight o'clock. Front porch lights were turning off across the neighborhood and the streets were almost empty again. Forgotten pieces of costumes dotted the lawns and sidewalks.

  Jonathon's mother helped him out of his costume and she carefully hung it in his closet where it would wait for her to prepare it for storage in the attic. She inspected his candy before giving him his choice of one piece for a pre-bedtime snack. He selected a Butterfinger, of course.

  Twenty minutes later, Jonathon was in bed, happy and content to think about the candy hi
s mother had stashed on the high shelf in the kitchen, to dole out to him over the next few weeks.

  He hoped no one would break into the house and steal his candy, but he also knew that wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

  It was Halloween night, after all, and there were still real monsters out there.

  ***

  A few hours later, minutes before midnight, Jonathon couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. He thought he might be awake. He certainly felt awake, but on the other hand, dreams could be tricky.

  A few months earlier, he had been sure he was riding a horse with the knights of King Arthur's round table, but that had ended up being a dream, which disappointed him greatly upon waking.

  Jonathon was about to pinch himself when something thumped on the side of the house.

  He slowly turned his head.

  Pumpkin vines slithered across the window glass, highlighted by the big full moon blazing brightly in the night sky.

  A massive brown stem rose into view as the Pumpkin Eater climbed upward.

  The pumpkin skin was dark orange and wrinkled.

  The eyes were slits that glowed from an angry fire burning within.

  The Pumpkin Eater was grinning, too, a most awful grin.

  "I've come for you, Jonathon," the monster growled from beyond the window. "I've come to split you open and eat your pulp and your seeds!"

  "No," Jonathon whispered as he pulled his blankets above his head. "Please leave me alone. I told you not to come here again."

  Jonathon heard the window smash.

  The Pumpkin Eater was inside his room, slithering across the floor.

  The vines found Jonathon's covers and pulled them back as the Pumpkin Eater towered over the little boy.

  "No, please don't hurt me," Jonathon whispered.

  One of the vines held a jack-o’-lantern carving tool. The Pumpkin Eater lowered the plastic tool to Jonathon's belly...

  ...and that was when Jonathon shook himself awake.

  He tumbled out of bed, tangled in his covers, and landed hard on the cold floor.

  He blinked his eyes open, confused about where he was.

  The window was not broken, but the full moon was out there, watching over him like in his dream.

  His heart was racing and he was disoriented.

  A gruff voice said something on the other side of the wall, where Jonathon had so often heard the sewing machine.

  "Leave Jonathon alone," his mother answered quickly.

  After a moment, Jonathon understood why: the Pumpkin Eater hadn't come for him. It had come for his mother!

  Jonathon had to help her, and fast. But how could he stop a real life monster? He was just a little boy. He didn't know what to do and panic threatened to consume him. He had no idea how to defeat the Pumpkin Eater, but he had to do something.

  Then Jonathon's eyes widened and he realized the answer to his question had been with him all night.

  He hurried to his closet where his mother had hung his costume with care. He grabbed the velvet orange pumpkin off the hanger and pulled it over his head, stumbling under the sudden weight.

  He gently pushed open his bedroom door, tiptoed down the hallway as quietly as he could, and listened.

  "Please leave me alone," his mother said, her voice trembling.

  Jonathon's heart raced a mile a minute, but he had no time to waste.

  He turned the doorknob to his mother's bedroom and pushed the door open a few inches.

  The first thing Jonathon saw through the narrow eyeholes was that the window had been broken, just like in his dream.

  But there was no Pumpkin Eater.

  A man stood by the bed, towering over his mother, who wore just her nightgown.

  The man held a big hunting knife.

  In some ways, this man looked like his mother's friend named David, but his hair was longer and dirtier, his clothes were torn, and his belly was bigger.

  He waved the knife.

  Jonathon's mother was crying.

  The man was as scary as any monster Jonathon had ever seen, but he knew he had to do something. He was the one with the protective costume, not his mother. So Jonathon pushed the door open the rest of the way and ran into the room without the faintest idea what he would do next.

  He ran on faith, trusting the costume would save the day and protect him from the monster like it had during trick-or-treating.

  The man turned and said, "What the hell?"

  The man also sounded a lot like David.

  "Jonathon, no!" his mother cried.

  The man reached for Jonathon and he realized the man also smelled a lot like David had on the nights when he came to the house way too late. The smell was harsh and pungent as it seeped into the room with every breath the man exhaled.

  The man pushed Jonathon off balance, sending the little boy in the giant pumpkin costume rolling across the room.

  Jonathon yelped, reaching for anything that might stop his momentum. He smacked into the door, slamming it shut.

  The man returned his attention to the bed just as the sewing machine smashed into his face. The sound of the impact was hollow and thunderous at the same time. The man roared in pain.

  Jonathon's mother dropped the sewing machine, stepped forward, and pushed the man through the broken window.

  The man howled on his way down to the ground, but the scream ended suddenly with a loud thud.

  Jonathon's mother hurried to her son and she rolled him over so he was sitting up.

  "Are you okay?" she asked as she helped him out of the costume again.

  "I'm a little dizzy," Jonathon said, rubbing his head.

  Jonathon's mother kissed him on the forehead. She was crying harder now.

  "That was very brave of you," she said.

  "I thought the Pumpkin Eater had come for us. Was that a different monster?"

  "Something like that," his mother replied, holding her little boy as tightly as she could.

  "It's the worst part of Halloween," Jonathon said. "I can't wait for all of the monsters to go away for another year."

  "Me, too," his mother said softly, kissing the top of his head again. "Me, too."

  JOHNNY HALLOWEEN

  Norman Partridge

  I should have never been there.

  Number one: I was off duty. Number two: even though I’m the sheriff, I believe in letting my people earn their pay. In other words, I don’t follow them around with a big roll of toilet paper waiting to wipe their asses for them, even when it comes to murder cases. And number three: I’m a very sound sleeper—generally speaking, you’ve got a better chance of finding Elvis Presley alive than you’ve got of waking me between midnight and six.

  But it was Halloween, and the kids next door were having a loud party, and I couldn’t sleep. Sure, I could have broken up the party, but I didn’t. I’m a good neighbor. I like to hear the sound of kids having fun, even if I think the music we listened to back in the fifties was a lot easier on the ears. So I’m not sour on teenagers, like some cops. Probably has something to do with the fact that Helen and I never had any kids of our own.

  It just didn’t work out for us, is all. When Helen had the abortion, we were young and stupid and figured we’d have plenty of chances later on. That wasn’t the way it worked out, though. I guess timing is everything. The moment passes, things change, and the life you thought you’d have isn’t there when you catch up to it.

  What it is, is you get older. You change and you don’t even notice it. You think you’re making the decisions, but mostly life is making them for you. You’re just along for the ride. Reacting, not acting. Most of the time you’re just trying to make it through another day.

  That’s how most cops see it. Like my deputies say: shit happens. And then we come along and clean up the mess.

  I guess maybe I do carry around that big roll of toilet paper, after all.

  So, anyway, Helen had asked me to get another six-pack and some chips. She does lik
e her Doritos. It was hot, especially for late October, and a few more beers sounded like a good idea. I worry about Helen drinking so much, but it’s like the kid thing. We just don’t talk about it anymore. What I usually do is drink right along with her, and then I don’t feel so bad.