Fear Factors

by Peter Sacco

  The eldest Carter struggled to keep up with the brat pack but was some seven houses back of the boys. The streets were extremely dark yet and remarkably quiet for Halloween evening.

  “Come on, hurry, milkman!” encouraged young Jack.

  “Get on your horse, milkman,” added Henry.

  “If we want to lose my dad, then you’re going to have to move it,” begged Jack as he looked first to Malcolm, and then back over his shoulder.

  Malcolm tried very hard to walk as fast as he could to keep up with his confederates.

  “I’m hurrying,” gasped Malcolm. “I need my puffer.”

  The boys came to the end of the street. A large house with very high hedges sat on the corner. The boys turned the corner and Mr. Carter lost sight of them. Instead of running to catch them, Mr. Carter stopped for a moment to light a cigarette. As he lit his smoke, the three boys ran down the street in a half-trot. Malcolm was still wheezing and the harsh, aromatic smoke which bellowed from the chimney of nearby homes further added to his breathing miseries.

  “We’re almost there,” grunted Jack.

  “I hope so. I don’t think I’m going to make it,” gasped Malcolm.

  Henry grabbed the sleeve of Malcolm’s jacket and pulled him along. “See, you’ll make it,” chuckled Henry.

  The two boys had fallen slightly behind Jack, as they ran through a very dark open field. Henry almost fell, as he stumbled over a groundhog’s hole. Malcolm coughed hard as he tried not to laugh. Jack disappeared through an opening in the bushes at the end of the field.

  “Where the hell’s the fire?” yelled Henry after Jack.

  “Let’s just forget this,” pleaded Malcolm.

  “Oh, can it, wheezy, we’re almost there.”

  Henry and Malcolm finally made it to the opening in the brush and disappeared. As they came out the other side, Jack waited at the foot of a cobblestone driveway and stared at a very large, old red-bricked house. The two boys almost tripped over a curb, as they saw the house. The wind whistled through the weeping willows strategically positioned about, forming a leafy barrier to ensure anonymity. Moonlight reflected off the swinging dew-painted leaves. A strange feeling grasped at Henry. For the first time in his life he felt frightened. In the back of his mind, he wished it was a hot summer’s day and he and his father were trout fishing. As Henry was lost in thought, Jack started up the walkway toward the house. Shadows from the trees were cast about the walkway resembling long, eerie ghouls.

  “Maybe we should wait for your father, Jack,” begged Malcolm in an uneasy voice.

  “For the first time, that ain’t such a bad idea,” added Henry.

  Jack paused for a moment and looked back at the two of them. He threw up his arms in disgust. “Don’t tell me the two of you are dweebless chickens?”

  Henry stared into Jack’s eyes momentarily before glancing over to Malcolm.

  “Who are you calling chicken?” argues Henry as he moved away from Malcolm and started to walk towards the house.

  Malcolm stood alone on the curb for a moment and shook his head. “Why go to this house anyway?”

  “Yeah, what’s with this house?” added Henry.

  “They give out candy apples at this house,” replied Jack.

  “Candy apples!” exclaimed Henry.

  “Yeah,” responded Jack.

  Malcolm still stood motionless at the curb.

  “Are you coming or are you going to press that curb down all night?” asked Jack impatiently.

  “My parents told me never to go near that house,” Henry replied. “They said the lady who lives there is an old and evil witch.”

  Henry looked at Jack. “Your parents also think that the Jones’ poodle is a killer dog,” laughed Jack sarcastically.

  Jack started to walk up to the porch.

  “I’ve seen the lady who lives in this house and she ain’t old.”

  “Really?” asked Henry hesitantly.

  “She’s hot,” grinned Jack.

  Henry looked over at Malcolm, and motioned to him to come with them.

  “She’s supposed to be a real babe?” asked Henry curiously.

  Malcolm stared down at the ground for another moment and then peered up to notice his friends were almost at the door. “Ah, what the hell,” moaned Malcolm as he scurried after them.

  The boys stood together at the door for a moment, deciding as to who would knock. After a long pause, Jack anxiously knocked on the old door, scraping his knuckles on some splintering pieces of wood which jutted out ever so slightly. Dried, fallen leaves crackled, as the wind blew them off the corner of the porch. The loud shriek from an animal in the distance startled the three boys.

  “I think we should go. There’s no one home,” asserted Malcolm.

  Jack removed his plastic teeth from his mouth and placed them in his pillow case. The artificial blood around his mouth has now solidified, and he could taste its copper, salty taste as he licks his lips. He glanced down at his wounded knuckles briefly and noticed his painful gash was really only a slight abrasion. There was still no sign of life in the house.

  “Maybe milkman’s right,” added Henry. “Maybe nobody is home. There are no lights. Everything’s dark, for crying out loud.”

  Jack looked at the door once more, and then down at the old wooden porch as a cockroach scurried under one of the broken panels. “Alright. Let’s go.”

  As the boys turned and were about to walk down the steps, the porch light popped on. The boys turned and saw the front door open slowly. With the porch light now on, the house seemed less frightening. The boys stared at the lifeless space in the doorway. As Jack peered into the house, he jumped back, as a face suddenly appeared. The boys were frozen in their tracks. A witch, with her ugly green face and teeth, stared at them. After a few moments, she began to laugh.

  Still in shock, the boys could not pull themselves away from their trances. Suddenly, the witch pulled her face off and her blackened teeth from her mouth. Instantly, the boys were relieved. Jack and Henry began to laugh. Malcolm watched the two of them.

  “What did I tell you?” laughed Jack, as he turned to Malcolm.

  Malcolm was silent. The once ugly and terrifying-looking witch, had now become a young, beautiful, long-haired, brunette woman. Henry bashfully studied her pearly white smile and her voluptuous, curvaceous figure. Jack offered the woman a smile of approval. The woman stepped back from the door and invited the boys in. Jack, boldly entered the house with Henry not far behind. Malcolm hesitated before entering. “My parents warned me about going into stranger’s houses,” Malcolm whispered to Henry.

  Henry winked back at Malcolm and smiled. “This chick is cool.”

  After a moment, Malcolm shrugged and entered after the two boys. The woman stood in the doorway as a beautiful black cat crossed in front of her feet. The woman smiled at the three boys. “I guess the trick was on the three of you.”

  “That was a really great costume, Miss,” replied Jack. “Do you live all alone here?”

  The woman stared at the three of them for a moment and then smiled.

  “My husband is away on business.”

  “You’re married?” asked Henry.

  “Yep!” replied the woman.

  “Damn,” replied Jack under his breath.

  “The three of you are little dears,” added the woman.

  “You’re the first trick or treaters I’ve had all evening.”

  “Is it true that you give out candy apples?” asked Henry quite boldly.

  “Is that why you came to my house? For candy apples?”

  “It’s okay, Miss,” smiled Jack. “If you don’t have any candy apples, it’s alright.”

  “Oh, you little angels,” smiled the woman. “Let me go and see what I�
��ve got for you.”

  The woman disappeared around the corner and the boys spied the inside of the house. Everything seemed so clean and new. A modern-looking grandfather clock chimed eight-thirty. A beautiful oil painting of the woman filled the far wall. Jack stared at the picture.

  “Is she hot, or is she hot?”

  “Hummina, hummina!” sighed Henry.

  Malcolm nodded his head in agreement.

  “Everything is okay now?” asked Henry.

  “Yes,” replied Malcolm.

  After a few moments, the woman returned holding a tray with three wrapped candy apples. Henry’s eyes bugged out from his head. “Bingo!”

  “This is all I have, guys,” smiled the woman. “Is it okay with you boys?”

  “Damn, alright!” replied Henry.

  The woman offered the candy apples to the boys and they put them into their pillow cases. The boys thanked her and started for the door. Malcolm was the first to go out with Henry not far behind. Jack straggled behind and stole one last bashful glimpse of the woman. She offered an affectionate smile and winked at him. “You all come back now.”

  “You won’t have to twist my arm.” replied Jack under his breath.

  The boys were not far from the house when they heard Jack’s father calling after them. They hurried in the direction of his voice. They saw him standing at the corner and they walked over to him.

  “That’s enough for this Halloween night, guys. I warned you about taking off,” scolded Mr. Carter. “We’re heading home.” To Mr. Carter’s surprise, he received no resistance from the boys. He was quite relieved the Halloween night was over. His feet were blistering. They began their journey home.

  Back at the beautiful woman’s house, she turned off her porch light as the boys disappeared from her view. The outside of the house once again looked ominous and haunting in the darkness. She slammed the front door shut behind her. She glanced over at her black cat as it rested on a straight-backed chair by the front window. The woman began to laugh aloud to herself. “Cute little kids.”

  Her laughter now grew to a feverish pitch. “Hope you all come back now,” she snorted. She reached down to the floor and picked up her mask. “The poor souls were quite terrified.”

  The woman stared at the mask for a moment, before throwing it in the direction of the cat. “Scared of a bloody mask!”

  The mask was suspended in the air as it floated like a feather. “Little bastards. Think that they can come here on Halloween night and get their much-desired candy apples. Throw rocks through my windows every other day of the year. Hope you enjoy your treats, boys. Now let’s see who gets tricked!”

  As the mask hit the floor, the room began to change. The furniture was still in the same place, however, its texture had changed. Everything seemed to age. The grandfather clock chimed once more to announce nine o’clock but the chime sounded deeper and more haunting. The once clean living room was now more dusty and filled with cobwebs. Cockroaches, beetles, and ants nested in corners. What were once lamps had been transformed into oil burning lanterns. A large blue candle, with a black pentagram tattooed in its body, burned bright below the oil portrait. Streams of smoke drifted upward and created a storm of waves on the portrait. The woman stared at the portrait and laughed. The once beautiful woman on the portrait had grown old and ugly. The woman’s nose in the portrait looked like a gray stream of wax which, at any moment, would drip onto the floor. The eyes in the portrait were bright red coals which burned the hottest of evil. Wrinkles now formed on the forehead of the woman in the portrait. The wrinkles grew deep like crevasses in a canyon. Moles and warts formed on the woman’s face. From the corner of the portrait’s left eye, pus oozed outward.

  The mouth of the portrait until now a closed snicker, opened to expose what was left of the persons jaw cavity. Three black teeth danced around on blackened saliva. A large white maggot swam in the mouth and tried to squirm its way out. The woman stared at the picture, deviously laughing. The tone of her laughter had now changed. It resonated like a heavy, steel sewer lid which had hit bottom after falling from the top of its manhole. The woman tried to speak but was unable to because of her hair-raising, mischievous laughter. She turned her head away from the living room for a moment and abruptly threw back her head. Vigorously, she pulled the flesh from her neck with a single tug. Flesh and hair were instantly torn from her head and strewn onto the floor. She tore away her clothing and it fell to her feet. She pulled the skin off her hands like a doctor tearing surgical gloves from his fingers.

  Bony fingers, resembling meat hooks, dangled from her liver-spotted, decaying hands. A black nail dangled from one of the fingers and she pulled it off and threw it to the floor, without so much as a wince of pain. She turned to the picture in the living room and spat at the face she once wore on the ground.

  The face in the portrait is her own; the face she now wears. She stopped laughing, and pulled out a razor blade from her pocket. She held it away from her body and candle light reflected off a small area of the blade which had not been tarnished by rust. She lifted the razor blade to her tongue and licked it. She chuckled to herself in a deep, vibrating voice. “Not everything is always what it appears to be.”

  She pulled a fresh-looking candy apple from her pocket and admired it. She chuckled to herself as she held it up to the light of the candle. A greasy smile forced her wrinkles to dilate as she slowly licked the apple. Instantly, the red candy apple turned to a putrid, blackish green. A harsh sound resonated from the apple. She sliced the metamorphic apple from top to bottom. The two sides of the apple were split open and maggots and centipedes burst through the crack. Suddenly, the apple exploded in a splatter, as pieces and insects fell to the floor. She smiled as she watched the insects scurry about. They appeared to be multiplying. “That should help with your digestion, boys.”

  Once more, in her deep vibrating voice, she chuckled aloud. She dropped the razor blade atop the heap of insects and held a bright, shiny object, which was in the apple, close to her eyes. It was an eyeball. Its iris was cornflower blue and white-striped in rich, bloodshot red. The pupil dilated and contracted as she stares into it. “Yes, my little dears, I have my eye on you.”

  Sarah stirred on the couch and screamed from her sleep. Her mother rushed down the stairs and almost lost her footing on the small mat at the base of the stairs. Mrs. Carter entered the room, only to see Sarah roll off the couch.

  “Sarah, what is it? What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Jack and the witch.”

  “Jack? You’re brother Jack?”

  “The witch is going to hurt him. She’s really ugly and evil!”

  “Take it easy, Sarah,” Mrs. Carter said rubbing the back of Sarah’s neck. “You’ve just had a bad dream. It’s no wonder, watching that creepy stuff on TV.”

  Mary helped Sarah up and then switched off the television. “Come on, Hon. Let’s go upstairs and wait for your father and brother. They should be home any minute now.”

  Sarah and her mother left the family room and slowly walked up the stairs. Just as they arrived at the top of the landing, Jacks senior and junior came through the door. Sarah was relieved and happy to see her brother.

  “How was it?” asked Mrs. Carter.

  “You have to be a marathon runner to keep up with these kids,” replied Mr. Carter. “ They tried to lose me but I caught them.”

  “See, I said you should have stayed home,” added Jack.

  Sarah curiously stared at her brother. She walked over to him and gave him a hug. Jack and his father looked surprised. “If you think you are going to get any of my candy just because you hugged me...”

  Sarah cut Jack off before he could finish. “I hugged you because I missed you.”

  Mr. Carter glanced over to his wife and shrugged.

  “Don’t ask,” she re
sponded.

  Jack poured the candy from his pillow case onto the table.

  “Wait until your father and I have checked your candy,” ordered Mrs. Carter.

  “Can I at least have this?” pleaded Jack holding a candy apple covered with foil.

  Sarah saw the candy apple and started to become agitated. Her father saw this and became concerned. “Sarah, whatever is the matter?”

  “That,” pointing to the candy apple, “don’t let him eat...”

  “Why? It’s mine,” snapped Jack.

  “Don’t eat it!” yelled Sarah.

  “Are you jealous because you didn’t get one?” teased Jack.

  Jack’s father began to grow impatient. “What the heck is going on here?”

  Mrs. Carter smiled and held Sarah’s arm gently. “Sarah had a bad dream about her brother, that’s all.”

  Sarah tried to grab the candy apple away from her brother, but was unsuccessful. “Where did you get that, Jack?” asked Sarah.

  “None of your bees wax, Sarah.”

  “Where did you get the candy apple, Jack?” asked Mrs. Carter curiously.

  Jack paid no attention to the question and began to unwrap the candy apple.

  “They got them from some young dame’s house on the other side of Hoover’s field,” Mr. Carter shook his head. “It was when they gave me the slip.”

  “Was it a red brick house, Jack?” asked Sarah, nervously.

  “I don’t remember,” answered Jack, “maybe.”

  “Was there a black cat?”

  “Yeah. How do you know?”

  “And a grandfather clock and a big oil painting?”

  “Yeah, so?” Jack responded. “How do you know all of this? Were you following us?”

  Sarah grew excited once more. “Don’t eat that!” screamed Sarah at the top of her lungs. Her parents were startled by her sudden outburst.