HORROR TALES OF THE SILENT NIGHT

The Prank

The wind whispers threats through bare branches, and clouds race each other across the sky, their edges lit by moonlight.

Perfect. I can't ask for better weather.

I check my watch and curse under my breath. I'm late. Trick-or-treaters are already prowling the neighborhood and I haven't finished setting up. Shouldn't be a problem. I'm not trying to scare the little ones, just the teenagers, and they don't usually come out for another couple of hours.

As I inspect the stain on my driveway with my flashlight, a trio of tiny superheroes approaches. I wave at a couple of moms down at the end of the drive, and they wave back.

"Happy Halloween!"

One of the kids, a hobbit-sized Hulk, studies the pool of light. "Whatcha lookin' at?"

I straighten up, wincing. Bending over like that leaves my back stiff. "Tell me what you think it is."

The kids scramble around me, kneeling down and peering at the stain on the pavement.

"It's juice," says Batman, his voice muffled behind his plastic mask.

"No, it's chocolate," says a tiny Captain America. He touches the ground with a gloved hand. "Like the kind you put in milk."

Hulk recoils and then stands quickly. "Uh-uh. It's blood."' The other two rise, backing up a few steps.

I chuckle. "You really think so?"

Hulk nods. "Is it really?"

"Nah. It's just rust-colored paint. Watercolor." I bend down again, and whisper to them conspiratorially. "But don't tell anyone, OK? I want the big kids to think it's something spooky."

"Like blood?"

"Yeah. Like blood."

"Cool."

"So." I put my hands on my hips. "What are you doing wandering around at night like this? Shouldn't you be out fighting bad guys?"

"We're pretending," says Batman. "You're supposed to give us candy."

"Oh really? I didn't hear the magic words."

They jump up and down, their plastic buckets bouncing in their hands. "Trick or treat! Trick or treat!"

"OK, OK, I might have something for you. Follow me." Before I start up the walk, I click off my flashlight. The stain on the cement is clearly visible in the moonlight, but it's good to know it stands up under closer inspection. Those teenagers with their iPhones...

After the kids run back to their moms, I check up and down the street. Looks like I've hit a lull. Time to finish up in the garage.

I'd set my old Pioneer stereo system up there fifty years ago. Abby loved that thing. We'd park the cars in the street and slow dance as Billy Joel crooned "Just the Way You Are." After the kids were born, they played "Rubber Ducky" and "C is For Cookie." And with the grandkids, it was "Baby Shark" before they moved out of town.

When it was just Abby and me again, we went back to Billy Joel. Even after the cancer made it so she could barely walk, she still wanted to slow dance.

The speakers are on stands, about head height, but tonight I'd turned them to face the metal garage door, just inches away. I'd been a tech director for a local theater for most of my adult life. My last show was three years ago, a couple months before I lost Abbey. It took a couple years, but the creative juices have started flowing again. This is a good outlet.