Halloween One Shots

MY TRICK BEATS YOUR TREAT

Contest Profile: Horror

The doorbell rang. I set down the roll of duct tape.

Dancing flames from jack-o-lantern candles and orange fairy lights spread all around the house were the only source of light, giving it that extra spooky Halloween vibe. I walked to the door, picking up a half-full bowl of candy from the dining table and ignoring how much I hated the creepy shadows on the walls made by the flickering candlelight.

There was no one at the door.

I looked down and saw it. A braided lock of long, dark hair.

"I guess it's time for tricks," I whispered, slowly shutting the door.

I turned to walk away, but stopped, my blood turning into sludge. Someone was in the house. But how?

I took a deep breath and slowly walked back to the dining room. There he was, trying to untie the mother and the child. I had just finished tying up the pair, complete with duct tape gags! Did he think I'd just let him keep going? Not today, Satan! I dropped the candy bowl. It shattered with a satisfying cymbal clash, candy flying everywhere.

He whipped around to face me. "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter," I replied. "You won't live long enough to use that information."

He brandished his knife. I picked up my trusty roll of duct tape. Of course, bringing duct tape to a knife fight isn't the best strategy. I blocked the first hit, but he caught me with a second knife, slashing a gash up my right arm. Blood spattered everywhere and the pain blinded me for a moment. He stood up straight, two knives in hand, grinning. His next two swings slashed across my gut and diagonally up my back, nicking the bone of my left shoulder blade.

He laughed as I gasped through the pain.

"Thank you," I sputtered.

"What?"

He swung again, but this time he missed. He missed again. And again. And again. His every move just a little too late. His eyes grew wide.

"You let me hit you before," he whispered.

"I needed a good reason to kill you," I said. "Self-defence seemed like the best."

His last swing had me ducking to the ground, grabbing a shard of broken candy bowl, and cutting across his femoral arteries. He was dead in minutes. I'd made sure to guide him away from the little boy and his mother, hiding the gruesome sight from their field of vision.

A few hours later I slid into a booth at a Café, miles away from the house. The breaking news came on. I already knew what the reporter would say. I'd seen it. Like I'd seen so many other things.

"...We're standing here where a woman says her psychic neighbour came to her house, told them they were about to die, tied them up when they wouldn't believe her, and then killed the notorious Braided Lock Killer, who broke in to murder them. This is what the woman had to say..."