The Visitor

A Halloween short story from a writing prompt on my Facebook Author Page. I decided to let it remain sad when I rewrote it.

The Visitor

 

The white sheets with black eyes peering through holes of the costume gave no clue as to who the kid was.  He had appeared under the small tree in the front yard about half an hour after the streets had cleared from the last of the kids making their way home from the bus.  He didn’t speak or move as I set out this year’s carved jack-o-lanterns.  I watched him from the corner of my eye.  He �" or it could have been a she �" was pretty small.  The edges of the sheet hid his feet entirely, and seemed to float along the top of the grass.  He looked pretty thin, too, as there was clearly no bulk under that sheet.

I had been feeling uneasy all day.  I was always just a bit on edge on Halloween, ever since Tommy was born.  The odd child under the tree amplified that feeling, although the kid didn’t seem threatening.

I went inside to get the candy ready, and to put on my witchy hat.  The first streetlights were coming on when I carried the small table out to the patio, and set it up by my pretty park bench.  The kid was still there, standing in the same spot, staring at me, not moving.

“Happy Halloween!”  I called cheerily, waving my hand.

Nothing.  He just stood there.  I frowned as a tiny frision of electricity raced down my spine.

I went inside to get the cauldron of mini chocolate bars, and a couple of LED candles.  I snatched up the orange burlap table covering as I went out the door; I had almost forgotten it.

He was still there.  Up and down the streets, porch lights began to wink on. 

That was odd.  Not the lights, which were a sign of welcome on Halloween, but how dimly the lights of the houses facing the street corner just beyond the tree glowed.  It was like looking at them through a dirty window pane.  The lights on the other corner of our short block were shining normally.  I looked up and down the street again, noticing the silent kid as my eyes passed him, and then shrugged.

“It’s just my eyes playing tricks,” I thought.

I put the cauldron and burlap on the bench, then switched on the candles, and settled one in each of the smiling pumpkins.  No chilly October winds would blow those out.  I glanced at the ghosty kid as I spread the bright orange cover on the small table.  He hadn’t so much as shifted his weight, so far as I could tell.  The cloth was bright in the glow of our own porch light.  I set the black, iron cauldron filled with candy on the table, and then settle myself on the bench, wrapping my heavy, woolen cloak warmly around me.

“Trick or treat?” I called to the kid, smiling invitingly, and pointing to the candy.

He didn’t twitch.  I couldn’t see any sign of a treat bag anywhere, unless it was hidden in the folds of the sheet.

A cold Halloween wind blew along the street, funneled by the row of houses.  Every tree rustled and swayed, and a swirl of leaves, dust, and a few early candy wrappers rushed along the pavement.  I caught at my hat.  That was very odd.  The kid’s sheet didn’t so much as ripple.

I wrinkled my nose as I caught a whiff of something unpleasant in the cold wind.  Sulfur?  “The teenagers must be egging a car somewhere,” I thought.  “Dumb thing to do so early, with so many parents around.” 

The sounds of children’s laughing voices calling out to each other announced the beginning of the neighborhood’s trick-or-treating.  In moments, a little pink fairy and an even littler maned lion came nervously up the walk, shepherded by a witch, pushing a stroller with a plump ladybug strapped inside, and a very realistic Army sergeant in desert camouflage and well-shined boots.

“Twick o’ twee…” the little fairy said, barely audible.  The lion just stared and awkwardly held a purple plastic pumpkin. 

I dropped two candy bars each in the fairy’s bag and the lion’s pumpkin, and two more in a bag the witch held out, nominally for the ladybug; I avoid the peanut types for that one.

As they walked around the car and down the driveway, I saw a pair of middle-sized zombies and a very bore-looking teenage vampire walk right past the ghost kid.  They didn’t speak to him, or even glance at him; he didn’t move.

Through a busy hour of dropping chocolate into bags and pumpkins, and admiring dozens of delightful costumes, I kept half an eye on the kid.  He never turned, twitched, or spoke.  I couldn’t swear that his eyes even blinked.  Other kids passed him as though he was just another tree in the yard.  A few dogs came on leashes, but none paused to sniff him, and they didn’t get too close to him or the tree.  A few had their hackles up as they skirted the tree, and some tucked their tails tight between their legs, but the tails were all wagging once they were past the strange kid.  The occasional wind never moved his sheets, but several times it brought the sulfur fumes again.

When it seemed that the last of the kids had gone, and the nearby porch lights were winking off, the kid was still there.

“There are a few left,” I called to him.  “Dontcha want some candy for Halloween?”

Suddenly, the kid moved.  He came toward me, gliding smoothly, not walking.  I glanced at the grass, but there were no footprints.  No leaves moved as he passed over them.  He closed the distance between us in just a few seconds.  He had made me uneasy all evening, but now I was afraid.  Goose bumps poppep up all over my arms, and my mouth felt dry. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the streetlight on the corner grow dim, the way it did when there was a heavy fog.  I felt the hair on my arms stand up, and my heart was racing. 

~*~

My mind flew back 14 years.  I sat in a small office with my three-year-old son and the psychologist I had taken him to see for the night terrors that besieged him every time he slept.  He was sitting on the floor, playing with a set of plastic cups Ms. Amy had asked him to put together. 

Suddenly, Tommy looked up at Ms. Amy.   Very clearly and calmly, he said, “My twin lives in the clouds where I was before I got born.  She’s watching me.”

Ms. Amy and I were stunned.  After a moment of surprised silence, I explained to the therapist that Tommy had, indeed, been a twin, but that I had miscarried the other baby; we had not found out whether it was a boy or a girl.

“We never told him that,” I told the therapist in a nervous whisper.

~*~

When he came close, his nearness brought me back to the present.  I noticed the appealing scent of fresh strawberries in the air around him.  I was still afraid, but I wasn’t afraid of the kid.  I swept my gaze searchingly up and down the street; my eyes were drawn back to the odd darkness that seemed to hover in the air behind the tree.  I shivered.

“Thank you,” whispered through the wind, audible, but clearly not spoken. 

As I watched, the ghostly figure drifted to the cauldron.  The last half dozen or so candy bars floated up through the air, and passed right through the sheet, a few inches below the still-impassive eyes.

“Go-o-o-od!” whispered the wind that now swirled gently around the form, when the last of the chocolate had disappeared.  “Tha-a-a-a-n-n-nks….”

The figure no longer looked like a child wearing a sheet.  The fabric became a filmy, white mist, and a soft glow suffused it.  As the ghost rose into the air, the mistily insubstantial form began to gently billow and shift.  It floated up over the tree where it had stood all night, and I saw a second, darker figure drift up from behind the tree, red eyes glowing like infernal coals amid raggedly shifting shreds of blackness.

“Not this year,” the ghost-child said softly, but confidently, gliding across the lawn toward the tree, and floating higher off the ground.

“No-o-o-o,” the demonic figure hissed with rage.  I saw that it held in its right claw a large, black scythe.  “Not this year, thanks to you, you little meddler!”

“Not ever,” a young, whispy voice replied, as the child-ghost drifted toward the dark menace.

“You won’t stop me forever,” rasped the dark thing.  “I got you.”

“You got me,” the gentle whisper agreed, “but you won’t get her, or my big brother.  Not ever.”

I was stunned to see that, threatening though it appeared, the large, black figure retreated before the smaller, white figure. 

Lightning crackled around the dark figure.  The yard felt very dark, but the circle of yellow light from our own porch light, which burned brightly, included the bench where I sat.  I felt that I should do something, but I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t scream.  I wimpered, my eyes filled with tears of terror.

“You won’t get her, or my big brother.”  I heard the words again in my mind.  Her big brother?  I was suddenly sure the silent kid in the sheet had been a girl.

As they floated past the nearest streetlight, they swirled together in a wind that crackled unnaturally, and they were gone. 

“I love you, Mommy….”  The words swirled past me on the wind, and were gone.  I might have heard a neighbor child, but I didn’t believe that.  The tears flowed down my cheeks.  I sat still.  I listened.  I heard the sound of a dove’s wings fluttering near me, and caught a whiff of fresh-baked sugar cookies, and then the moment passed.

I stayed outside, gazing at the point just above the streetlight, where the ghostly trick-or-treater had disappeared with the black reaper.

“You got me, but you won’t get her, or my big brother.”

When the tears were dry, and I could move and speak normally again, I gathered my table, cauldron, and cloth, but left the candles to burn.  Hurrying into the house, I locked the door and switched off the porch light.  I was shaking, as I had not done outdoors.  I sank into my chair, and smiled as my husband brought me a bowl of fresh, hot chicken soup. 

Halloween was over for another year.  Another Halloween’s restless uneasiness was gone, drained away.  My family was safe and warm.

“You got me….”

I shivered, and prayed for Tommy’s lost twin.

“You got me….”

“Keep her safe, dear God.”

“… but you won’t get her, or my big brother.”

“Amen.”

 

 

Author's Note

Please ignore typos. Initial reactions appreciated. Is it spooky? Does it affect you?
Edited: I made changes, based on reader feedback. I hope it starts out spooky, but ends sweet, and a bit sad.

Reviews

[Diane]

Yes, it game me goose bumps. Although it was sad, i love the ending. The child is the mom and brothers guardian angel.

[Debbie Barry]

Thanks, Diane! Yes, exactly. And the flashback with Tommy was true.

[Wendy Seames Garner]

I thought this sounded like it had a bit of truth in it.

[Debbie Barry]

Wendy, yes, a bit. I'm glad that came through, I think.

[Wendy Seames Garner]

I am so use to talking on Facebook, I am finding myself looking for the Like Button, or a Smiley Face or something.

[Diane]

Lol. I do that too Wendy!

[Debbie Barry]

LOL Wendy and Diane! I do, too!

[Wendy Seames Garner]

Deliciously scary, yet full of sad yearning. The perfect story for a Halloween night.

[Debbie Barry]

Thanks, Wendy!

[Samuel Dickens]

Yes, it's clearer now and more intense. A mix of happy/sad about the ghost child. It made me think of my lost little brother.

[Debbie Barry]

Thank you. The memory part was true; I hoped that would give it some strength. I'm sorry for the loss of your brother.

[Samuel Dickens]

Since you asked, I'll say that it seemed more sad than scary to me. Also, the relationship between the ghost child and the black figure is unclear. The premise is very good, so I think a little more tweaking here and there will be worth the effort.

[Debbie Barry]

Thanks, Samuel. That's what I needed to know. I'll see what I can do with it.

[Debbie Barry]

Samuel, I did a rewrite. It sort of took over and ended itself. It's not scary, but what do you think?

[Chris]

I was hearing the Jaws music in the background... Happy Halloween.

[Debbie Barry]

Happy Halloween, Chris! Thanks! That's just the sort of thing I was hoping for.

[Debbie Barry]

Chris, I changed it up a bit.