Hall Of Nightmares

Hallows Eve

“Eeeee...”

Wings pounded past the barbed metal gates. They glided past the barely surviving briar bushes. Red-eyed animals lurked about the rear gate to Stoneblood Cemetery. Owls crooned and turned their necks this way and that. A streetlamp at the end of the street flickered on and off. The town clock tower chimed as the needle struck twelve.

“Eeeee...”

“Lucy’s little lamp, loved lots of light.”

A hop. A skip. A small skinny pale child walked down the paved road. Loose gravel pricked the soft skin of her feet. Yet she felt no pain nor and discomfort whatsoever. Her face was a mask of blank severity with a tendency to an eerie glow.

“Cut the wire, crush the light.”

She floated on, climbing the stone steps from the road to the cemetary gates. A jack-o-lantern leered down at her pale face. Not a blink. The higher she rose the more her pale blue nightgown fluttered behind her.

“Darkness prevails, evil resides.”

The unoiled gates opened wide, squealing once and then falling silent. She sailed in, her cobalt black hair, tangling itself with the wind. Behind her back, the gates closed shut in silence.

“Eeeee...”

A thickly braided rope hung from the low gnarled branches of a willow. The girl stood under, eyes as blank as ever.

“Lucy” whispered a pallid figure. The man’s hair moved about untamed in the wind. His long overcoat, a darker shade of chestnut, hung loose over his shoulders. His hand rested upon a cane of simplicity; it was long, brown, wooden and straight excepting the curved handle.

“Darling, come to papa.” he suggested moving his hand in a come hither motion. Her head turned and recognition dawned in her emotionless eyes. Her father hung before her, floating a few feet off the dry brown grass. “Come now, Lucy. Join papa.”

She cocked her head observing the silver outline of her father’s contour. Her fingers reached up to tug on his graying overcoat. They coiled back at the freezing contact and brought  wide-eyed fear to her face.

“My little angel. Lucy darling.” Another figure appeared, sitting upon an extremely low willow branch. The woman was dressed in a splendid dress of a fine emerald color. Her auburn hair was elegantly coiled atop her head. “Lucy love, come sit in momma’s lap.”

The fear in the girl’s eyes receded somewhat at sight of her mother. She inched forward until she stood before her mother but no closer in fear of being frozen.

“Hurry up Lucy. We shan't be late.” her father demanded.

“Oh yes, darling. We can’t be late. So hurry along now.” her mother said smiling.

“We can’t wait forever.” her father prodded.

“Join us Lucy.” they pleaded together.

The ears of every canine perked up to a silent scream only they could hear. The wind wailed while the willow weeped. The wolves howled while the owls hooted. The moon frowned and the jack-o-lantern scowled.

“Lucy’s light went out that night.”

“Eeeee...”

The day of beckoning. The day of reckoning. Fate has claimed it’s right of the family name and stole its light.