Tricks or Treats: An Anthology for Charity

by Tiffany Carby

  “Man, that was crazy, we need to head back to the jeep…something isn’t right,” Scott started to get up, but Skye grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

  “Shh, look,” she said and pointed.

  All four of them watched as the men in hoods grabbed the teen that just moments ago was lying next to them.

  “We got him, hold him still until we can hang him,” it was hard to tell who was saying what. WOOF! WOOF! The dogs started barking again. The young man struggled but couldn’t get away. The hooded men pulled out a rope and tied it around his neck. The young man was lifted off the ground and he struggled to get free.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! We have to do something! This isn’t right!” Jo-Jo gripped Jacob’s arm as they all watched stunned. Shocked to be witnessing what appeared to be a lynching, the girls had tears rolling down their cheeks and the boys sat there stunned not sure what to do.

  Then, suddenly, just like the other apparitions from earlier in the night, it was gone.

  “What. The. Hell,” Scott looked around for any signs of what they had seen.

  “I don’t know…ya’ll saw that right? It wasn’t just me?” The other three shook their heads in agreement with Jacob. It was quiet for several moments before they got off the ground, still stunned by what they witnessed.

  “Look up,” Skye pointed.

  “Yea, I saw the vines earlier,” Jo-Jo looked up again to where the vines were located, but at that moment she realized that it wasn’t vines. “Those are old nooses.”

  The boys looked up at the trees that both girls’ eyes were glued to at that moment. It felt eerie to be looking at the nooses, especially after just witnessing the scene.

  Jo-Jo was the first to pull her eyes away, “Let’s get out of here, it doesn’t seem right to be looking for a party now.”

  They all nodded in agreement and started walking towards the jeep. Jo-Jo looked back one more time to see the young man watching them leave. She felt at a loss, leaving him there, but then, seconds later, he was gone again.

  ●

  The Jeep

  When they made it back to the jeep, the boys pushed the jeep past the opening of gate 5. Jacob jumped into the jeep and it started right up. “I can’t believe it started just like that.”

  Scott pointed to the woods, “I don’t care, I just want to get out of here.” The white hooded men looked to be running towards them and yelled, “Stop them, they have seen everything.”

  Skye and Scott hopped in the back and Jo-Jo shut her door fast.

  “Let’s go, Jacob. I think I have seen enough history lessons today,” Jo-Jo said grabbing his arm.

  Jacob whipped the jeep around and headed back the way they had come. He hoped it would be easier to get out then it had been to find the party.

  “Be careful, Jacob, since we aren’t having much luck with finding our way around,” Jo-Jo looked at him with a slight smile.

  “Yeah dude, I’m not interested in becoming part of the Route 666 lore,” chuckled Scott as he looked back to make sure that no one had followed them.

  Skye leaned forward, “Isn’t this where your car had a flat?”

  Jacob slowed down, looked around. “Yea, it is, someone must have had it towed out of the way.”

  Before Scott could respond, the jeep was suddenly back at the crossroad of Route 666 and Gallows Crossing. The clock read 8 pm. “What the hell just happened?”

  Skye and Jo-Jo looked shocked, just then a group of cars were ready to turn on Route 666.

  A blue pickup stopped and a classmate waved at them. “Hey Jacob, I saw your car parked at the old inn right up the road. Did you decide to carpool with Skye and Jo-Jo?” asked Tyler, another senior driving a pickup.

  Jacob shook his head, “Yea man I figured with a flat tire it would be a good idea.” Still not sure what was going on, the time was earlier then it had been when they met the girls.

  Tyler looked a little confused, “Oh I must’ve missed that, I didn’t see the flat tire but again I wasn’t looking for one. Are you guys heading to the party?”

  Jacob turned and looked at Scott and the girls, “What y’all think?” All of them shook their head quickly. “Naw man I think we are going to get some food and just hang out.”

  ●

  The Way Out

  Jacob turned onto the road headed back to town, in his rearview mirror he watched the steady line of cars headed down Route 666.

  “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m kinda of done with Halloween tonight, what do y’all think?”

  Scott and Skye shook their head in agreement. “Let’s go to my house…there is always food waiting to be eaten,” Jo-Jo looked over at Jacob looking for approval.

  “Sounds, like a plan babe.” Jacob winked at her.

  As the jeep headed down Gallows Crossing, a young African American teen stood at the edge of the woods and watched the lights disappear.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Samantha Rae was born in Iowa, but at a young age made her way south, where she never left. Most southerners would still call her a transplant, but her children were born and raised in Virginia, so they are the real southerners.

  She has had two jobs in her entire life, working in the trucking industry and working with mentally handicapped children. She currently still works with mentally handicapped children and describes them as her “munchkins or rug rats.” She will tell you that she has learned so many amazing things from all her “munchkins.”

  She just graduated with a BA in English and Creative Writing and has found a great support group of friends to push her out of her box and publish.

  She lives in the mountains of Virginia with her dogs and her family.

  LINKS

  Email: samantharae20020@gmail.com

  Facebook author page: www.facebook.com/authorsamantharae/

  Facebook Group: Samantha Rae’s Dreamers: www.facebook.com/groups/samantharaesdreamers/

  Instagram: author_samantharae

  Twitter: @samantharae_1

  MR. REID RETURNS

  Laurie Treacy

  DEDICATION

  For anyone who’s never fit in, there’s always a place for you. Happy Halloween!

  One man’s homecoming is short-lived when he learns what has happened in his town. For another young man unsatisfied with his home life, he yearns for something more. An encounter on Halloween will change both.

  “It is as much fun to scare as to be scared.”

  — Vincent Price

  Chapter One

  A loud slurping sound filled the backyard followed by a burp. Ollie rolled his eyes at his sister’s antics. For the older one, she often acted younger than his fifteen years. “Baxtra, are you seventeen or seven?” he whispered, peering at her. The sky above expanded into a real painting of hot orange and burnished reds as the sun sought safety from what the impending night would surely release on this, the last day of October.

  All Hallows’ Eve.

  “Oh, shut your trap, bat boy.” Again, she burped, before tossing what she’d been drinking. The body of the black and white Tuxedo cat slammed down against the leaf-covered ground, its marble-shaped yellow eyes still opened as if in shock.

  Ollie stood, bristling at her stupid nickname for him. The material of his uniform blazer snagged on the part of the tree bark he’d been leaning against. Great. Something else for his mother to rag on him about. If it wasn’t his video game playing, it was his grades or his appearance or the fact that he liked to breathe even when he didn’t have to. “Mom told you not to trespass in any of the neighbor’s yards, especially this one. And no more cats! People are starting to talk.”

  Baxtra glared at him. If he weren’t accustomed to her killer stares, his body would be experiencing sweats, or he’d be nibbling on his fingernails. But he was used to her ever-changing
attitudes. Ollie was thankful she would leave for Romania and finishing school after she graduates next June. She wiped her hands across her uniform skirt before jumping down from the branch. “You always worry about what Mom’s going to say or do. Blah de blah de freakin’ do.” She grabbed her blazer from a small branch she used as a hanger and tugged it. Despite her being five inches shorter than his six-feet-one-inch height, Baxtra was stronger than any other teen he knew.

  He watched and waited as she rubbed her jacket sleeve across her boots and fixed her skirt, followed by her white shirt and red tie. Stalling tactics. Like him, she didn’t want to go home either. Not on Halloween.

  “Anyway, I was hungry.” She pouted at him, sticking her bottom lip out. All he saw was a glistening drop of blood. His pupils must have changed because she curled her top lip and sucked in the crimson gift. “You know we can’t eat until the ‘special’ guests have arrived.”

  He knew they couldn’t do much of anything except put on the costumes Mom had made for them and stand together with their parents to represent a family image in the greeting line Dad forced them to have at every masquerade party. Ollie grabbed her backpack along with his. As usual, hers was practically empty. Tonight, his wasn’t the typical load. Most teachers gave the students a break, figuring they’d go out for candy or parties or town-sponsored activities.

  Baxtra kicked the dead animal towards their neighbor’s leaf-strewn deck, and without warning, the area became bathed in bright white light. Out of habit, Baxtra hissed and pivoted around, arms outstretched and ready to attack. Ollie felt his claws extend until the threat — or lack of one — registered in their minds.

  “Since when does that work?” she quipped, straightening up to peer at the back of the home. The windows, no longer dingy, shone against the invading light. Curtains once closed in every room seemed to be partially opened. Firewood was now stacked on one end of the slate porch. The white siding of the main building washed. No smoke curled from the chimney.

  Ollie stared, noticing the architectural beauty of the building for the first time. He wondered what it looked like inside.

  Baxtra spit on the ground. “It actually looks inhabitable now. Too bad. I was going to fly by with the girls tonight and smash a window. Maybe make a wish or something ludicrous.”

  Shifting his view to the ground, he swallowed. That was a custom their grandma believed. Break the glass and make a wish. If the fairies hear you and find you deserving, they’ll grant it.

  His sister snickered. “It’s written all over your face, bat boy. You believe that crap.”

  He grinned, trying to act more relaxed than he felt. “No, I don’t.” The words lacked conviction. What did he care anyway? His sister didn’t love him. None of them did. Ollie never fit in.

  “When I got off the bus I saw a cleaning crew come out of here. That’s why Mom said — ”

  “Shut it! I don’t care,” she barked. Her black chunky-heeled boots kicked up ground litter. The disturbance caused the cat body to move into a mound of various leaves and pine cones. “Don’t snitch or you’ll regret it.”

  Ollie openly scowled at her back while she strutted away. Those boots — in drastic opposition of her prim red plaid skirt, white shirt, and crimson blazer — were technically not allowed. Her teachers thought her a bit unstable and quick to anger so that they didn’t mention the dress code.

  Classic Baxtra. She bullied others to get what she wanted.

  Her speed increased the closer she came to the stone wall separating the property line of the neighbor they had yet to meet from their own. His family had moved in a little over two years ago, and even then, the house was habitually dark. Unlived in. Lonely. That’s how he felt when they arrived and still did, despite having made a friend or two. Whenever people met his family, they were either scared off by his sister’s nastiness or the lurid air his parents carried.

  The high school freshman sighed and continued to watch Baxtra. Easily jumping over the gray stones, she suddenly faltered and slipped. Her hand and elbow smacked down upon a rock. She yelped and quickly settled herself into her usual shoulders straight, head slightly lifted stance. Years of dance had trained her body that way. He heard her mumble a few curse words.

  He smiled, not ashamed to enjoy the moment. Many times, he’d gotten hurt, and she laughed. Ollie stiffened when the breeze carried over the scent of her blood. His fangs began to extend seconds before his brain identified the source as familiar and he soon relaxed. Still, the cat’s smell of urine, dander, and blood hung around him. Animal blood was not his preferred flavor.

  Ollie hated it all. His parents. His sister. The secrecy, and especially the reliance on blood for survival. He wanted to be like the kids at school. While many complained about their mundane existences, he reveled in their normalcy. Craved it.

  “Are you coming?” His sister’s voice commanded from the increasing darkness. The outside light had turned off while he became mired down in his thoughts. That wasn’t unusual.

  With a groan, he loosened his tie and dug his hands into his black trousers. He wanted to bury the animal, but his parents would smell death on him, and then he’d have to rat his sister out.

  Not in this decade.

  Baxtra’s wrath was not something he wanted to be on the receiving end of. Ollie shaped some more leaves onto the pile before he followed behind her, hoisting packs on his shoulders. Hers reeked of cigarette smoke. As he neared the rocks, his steps slowed, sensing…danger?

  Something otherworldly emanated from these stones. As a test, he ran his fingers high across the top, leaving a good two-foot gap between them. A slight warmth rose to kiss his chilled skin, and he pulled away. Since the land here was decades old, Ollie couldn’t be sure if the change of seasons had activated something placed here a long time ago or even today. Perhaps someone with the cleaning company was a user. For some, today marked the beginning of Hallowmas season — the three-day remembrance of the dead. Grandma called it the Triduum of All Saints’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day.

  Whether the reason is related to some old or new force, it was a dangerous time of the year. Anything was possible.

  Magic. The occult. Necromancy. Spells. The dead.

  Ollie thought of the cat and the others he knew his sister was responsible for killing and shook his head. An unease lodged between his shoulders as he increased his pace. Baxtra had blended into the enveloping twilight, but that didn’t matter. Ollie still took a long way around to avoid any contact with the wall.

  Once he reached the asphalt of the cul-de-sac, he turned onto his family’s property. A shiver sped down his spine as he began his trek down the long driveway. Halfway down, the shivers switched to a full tremble. His long legs broke into a run as he raced across the freshly landscaped lawn, down the walkway lined with pumpkins designed by Mom and her book club friends. Macabre faces glowed with tea lights. Each one was creepier than the last. They would delight the party crowd tonight.

  But what had caused his reaction?

  Either the awakened stones and their magic affected him, or someone had been watching him. Since they lived at the end of the road, the boy wasn’t sure. Trees obstructed even the next-door house’s view. The third home in their section was empty and up for sale.

  His ears picked up no sounds of human breathing nearby. No scents of perfume or cologne punched the air.

  Just three scents of the dead lingered.

  He quickly cleared the five steps and reached for the front door handle which was in the midst of closing behind Baxtra. Once inside, he hurried upstairs to his bedroom, careful not to run into his parents. Outside his sister’s room, he dropped her disgusting book bag and then locked his door.

  That stone wall and the accompanying trepidation rattled him. Despite his curious nature, the reason behind his quandary was one answer Ollie didn’t want to know. He undressed and s
tepped into a hot shower to remove every trace of unease off his skin.

  He still had to get through his parent’s party.

  Chapter Two

  Led by chatting parents, a group of young students trudged by, some hangers-on still fumbling with pieces of their costumes. The echoes of their active voices trailed behind them. As soon as the last adult went by, her eyes glued on a cell phone screen, that portion of the sidewalk emptied. All he heard was the hum of store lighting fixtures and street lamps.

  Now.

  After another check of his surroundings, he shifted where he stood — in between the safe confines of two dumpsters. A minute passed before he straightened, regulated his breathing, and fixed his clothing. Satisfied and seeking freedom from the confining darkness of the alleyway with its cloying odors of refuse and vomit, a tall man stepped onto the sidewalk. Legs steady, muscles and bones adapted, he absentmindedly rubbed at the still raw skin at his wrists and headed in the opposite direction of the kids. Main Street in the early evening on October 31st was usually a busy place. At least, that’s how he remembered it. Many businesses closed at five or six to allow workers and customers time with their families.

  Whatever kept the public away, he was grateful for a lull in foot traffic.

  At the corner, he ducked into Just Like Grandma’s, his favorite restaurant, lured inside by a tantalizing aroma.

  Some booths housed couples not in the mood to cook or others tired from the day’s work. For a second, he remained still, reveling in the bounty of scents: Sizzling burgers, corned beef hash, fried chicken, freshly baked bread. A food fan’s heaven. After existing off small rodents and whatever fresh greens he could find on the road, he’d won the top prize.

  Mouthwatering, he crossed the black-and-white tiled floor, head down, and headed straight for the space at the back end of the counter. No one looked up when he entered. The low lighting soaked the front part of the eatery in an ambiance of privacy, a place to unwind and for strangers to go by undetected.