For October and the haunted holiday it brings, I thought it would be fun to tell some creepy tales. Keep coming back for more frights all month long.
Here’s part 2 of the original story, entitled Trick or Treat:
Jo stepped over and took the apple from her son and picked up the crumpled orange paper. The Jack-o-lantern that decorated the wrapping was smashed between her fingers, but still smiling. “Who gave this to you?”
“Mrs. Jenkins,” said Michael, “I think.”
“Are you sure?” asked the father. The boy slowly nodded. “Then it must have been by accident.”
“No one accidentally slips a razor blade into an apple, Dennis!”
“Well, not that kind of accident, just a slip of the mind kind of accident. She’s old.”
“Either way, what she’s done here is dangerous. I’m posting on my mom’s group about it. Hopefully I can warn the neighborhood,” she said as she brought her phone from her large carpetbag. “You go see Mrs. Jenkins and find out if she’s off her rocker.”
Dennis sighed and his shoulders slumped. His wife was in beast mode and it was best just to get the job done and avoid an argument. “Come on, Michael,” the father said, whipping his vampire cape around in dramatic fashion, “let’s drain Mrs. Jenkins’ blood for her crimes.” He flashed his fake teeth with a hiss, then whispered. “And we’ll see if anyone still has candy.”
Optimus Prime and Dracula left the house and crossed Gold Hills to the next block of their street. The full moon filled in where the street light diminished and the Halloween stragglers were headed back to their homes. It was only 10PM, but in suburban time that’s well past midnight. Every porch light was off, the signal that candy distribution was over for that house, except for one.
Mrs. Jenkins was one of the originals. Her house was here long before the new builds, but she was always social with the young families. She’d set up extra sprinklers in the summer to make a cool zone for the kids. She brought a casserole to welcome new people to the neighborhood, and considering how transient the people here seemed, that was a lot of casseroles. It was unthinkable that she would try to harm anyone.
Dennis knocked on the door. The porch decorations were a simple skeleton and bat, nothing too scary for the little ones. He could see movement inside and a large shadow approach the door. Leatherface opened the door, an actual chainsaw in one hand and a bowl of candy in the other. The man was well over six feet and had to hunch to show Michael the treats. Swirling at the bottom were Necco Wafers and Circus Peanuts. Michael’s face transformed to disappointment.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
“We’re actually here to talk about candy that you may have been handing out earlier. Home made candy apples.”
Leatherface stood upright, putting the bowl on an unseen table just inside the door. He lifted his mask and Dennis winced with expectation. Underneath was a young and rather handsome guy with round frame glasses.
“Another one?” he asked and sighed. “Come on inside. Grandma’s in the kitchen.”
The father and son entered and shut the door behind them. Inside the older home was the most elaborate and gory haunted house Dennis had ever seen. A woman’s body hung from a noose in the archway to the parlor. Her intestines were hanging from a hole in her abdomen. There was even a pool of blood on the floor beneath her pale feet. Behind her was a pile of rotting bodies, one of them moaning. The dining room on the right was cleared of furniture and stacks of metal cages ran the length of the room, each one housing a child in various states of despair.
“Help me!” a little girl screamed. She was dressed as Elsa, but her white wig was missing. “They’re crazy!”
“Hi Melissa,” Michael said, waving to the girl. His father gave him an inquisitive look. “She goes to my school. A couple of grades older, so I guess she gets to stay out later. Lucky.” They continued down the hall while Melissa screamed.
“Quite the haunted house,” Dennis said casually.
“Hm?” Leatherface questioned, like he was distracted. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
A variety of animal skulls adorned the hallway walls where one would normally expect to see family pictures and the floor was scraped like someone had clawed at it. When they reached the kitchen Dennis could smell something cooking and Mrs. Jenkins was chopping a huge slab of meat. She turned with a bloody cleaver and a massacred apron.
“Dennis, hiiii.” She put the cleaver on the counter and hung her apron on its hook, then continued her greeting. “And who’s that in the box man costume? Is that Michael?” She came over to hug, and though the edges of his costume made it difficult, she managed.
“I’m supposed to Optimus Prime, Mrs. Jenkins.”
“Oh, of course,” Mrs. Jenkins said, “and what a scary Optiman you are.” Her smile bordered on insane, but it was apparent she loved Halloween.
“Grandma,” said Leatherface. His mask was back on. “They got one of the apples.”
“Did you like the surprise?” She looked at Michael and giggled.
“Wait. Did you knowingly put a razor blade in the apple?” Dennis asked.
“Of course! That’s the whole point of the gag. Everyone knows to check for razor blades in their apples.” She surveyed the pair’s shocked faces. “Okay, I can see from all the upset visitors that not everyone gets my sense of humor.”
“My son could have been seriously hurt. My wife cut her finger!”
“I won’t do it again, okay?”
“Mrs. Jenkins,” Dennis said with Leatherface looming next to him. His suit was askew and bloodied and he still held the heavy chainsaw at his side, obviously not bothered by its constant weight. Dennis removed his fake teeth. “I think this is serious.”
“I know dear, and I’m sorry.” Mrs. Jenkins looked up at Leatherface. “Bobby, take Michael into the dining room to get some candy.” She leaned down to the boy. “None of that Circus Peanut crap either. We’ve got loads of chocolate and Blow Pops. Take as much as you want.” Before Dennis could object, Michael ran off, and Leatherface was close behind.
“And to make amends with you and the wife, Dennis,” said Mrs. Jenkins in a sweet, apologetic tone, “I’ll send you home with one of my casseroles, okay?” She gently guided Dennis to a chair by the breakfast area table, and he took a seat, lifting his cape from under him. It was difficult to argue with grandmothers. They had a way of insisting that was neither rude nor unwelcome, especially when it meant delicious food was coming. Mrs. Jenkins put her apron back on and then Michael shouted from the dining room.
Dennis looked over to Mrs. Jenkins who was staring at him and holding up her cleaver.
“It’s better if you stay seated, Dennis. I don’t move as quickly as I used to.”
Part 3 will be out soon. Come back for more!
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