Stories of Halloween: The Firebug

Firebug

The old man grumbled to himself as he crawled out of bed and headed towards the door. What kind of person would be knocking on his door at this time of night?

When Smitty got to the door he opened it swiftly to express his anger. "Who the hell is..." his voice trailed off when he saw the three children standing on his porch. They were dressed in full costume for trick-or-treating.

All of their faces were covered. The tallest one, who stood in the middle, was dressed as a witch with a tall, pointy hat. She wore a pink dress with black trim on it. Her green witch mask, was simple, yet eerie. The black eyes and long nose made Smitty feel uncomfortable. Like there was something even more horrible hiding beneath that mask.

The shortest boy was dressed in a skeleton costume. The white Bones stood out on the black body suit he wore and his round skeleton mask covered his entire head. There was no seeing inside the eyeholes, as a black mesh covered them completely.

The last trick-or-treater was dressed in red. He was wearing a tall devil mask with cartoonish features. The eyes on his mask were yellow and horrible, and they never left Smitty's own gaze.

"It's a little early for trick-or-treating, isn't it?" he asked the silent trio who stood on his porch. None of the children said a word. They sat in eerie silence as they held their burlap sacks out, indicating that they wanted him to put candy in them.

Smitty and the children sat gazing at each other for thirty seconds or more,  but to the old man it seemed like an eternity. Finally, Smitty worked up the courage to speak. "You kids need to get outta here," he said. "It isn't time for candy gathering yet. Come see me at the Harvest Party tonight and I'll give you something special."

None of the children moved. None of them said a word. They just stood there watching and waiting for their candy.

"I mean it," Smitty barked, "Get now! Your parents will be worried sick about you!"

The trio still stood there silently. Smitty stepped back in his house and closed the door. Immediately there was another knock. "Go away!" he cried out. "It's late and you got school tomorrow!"

There was another, more forceful knock and this time it didn't stop. The noise from the knocking seemed to get louder and louder. It amplified with each blow to the door. Smitty steeled himself once more and flung the door open.

There sat the silent three in the same position as when the old man has shut the door the first time. They had their bags out and were staring at him with their eerie gazes.

"You aren't getting any candy!" he yelled at them. "Now get home before I tan your hides!"

The children made no effort to move. The three trick-or-treaters and Smitty sat watching each other for what seemed like an eternity. Then, in unison, all three of them lowered their burlap sacks and let them hang by their legs. Smitty thought that they had finally accepted that they weren't getting any candy.

From beneath the mask of the witch in the middle, Smitty heard her say one word. "Firebug," she said. Then she repeated it again and again and again. The devil and the skeleton joined in with her chant. "Firebug! Firebug! Firebug! Firebug!" they repeated over and over.

Smitty's eyes widened. Firebug? What did they know? Had they seen him light a fire? He had been so careful. The chant continued and Smitty slammed the door shut and bolted it.

He grabbed his cell phone to call the police, but stopped. If those kids were calling him a firebug they obviously knew something about what he had been doing. What if they told the cops what they knew? Then he wouldn't be able to finish his life's work. If the police detained him he wouldn't be able to light that gym on fire. He had to find out what they knew.

The firebug chant grew louder and louder just as the knocking had done. They were right outside his door screaming it from the tops of their lungs. If he didn't quiet them down the neighbors would wake up any minute.

He swung the door open again to confront the children, but when he did nothing was there. The chant had stopped and the eerie silence consumed everything once again. The children were gone.

But the chanting had been coming from the porch right up until he opened it. It was impossible for them not to be there. There was no way they could have scattered that quickly without him seeing them.

Smitty shut the door. As soon as he did there was a tap on his living room window. And then one came from the window in the kitchen. He shuffled as quickly as he could to the window, but there was nothing there when he arrived.

Knowing that he had to do something drastic to scare them off, he went to his closet and pulled out his shotgun. He grabbed the box of shells sitting next to it and loaded them in one-by-one. Then he went and stood in front of the living room window that the rapping was coming from and brandished the weapon. He hoped that the kids would see it and get frightened, but he has no such luck.

An involuntary jump shook through the old man when he heard the noise from the bathroom. The toilet had flushed. There was someone in the house. Somehow they had gotten in. It was time for him to take serious action.