A Hallowed Anthology: Contest Entries for Halloween Vault 3D

The Opportunity to Help

My cart is heavy with the creatively carved pumpkins as I walk down the sidewalk, my dark sunglasses making it extremely difficult to see in the approaching dusk. I should take them off but I'm too stubborn to diminish the terrifying effect of my costume.

Well – near terrifying. Terminator usually doesn't drag a cart of jack o'lanterns down a neighborhood street. At least, not in anything I've yet seen. Whatever remake releases next may prove me wrong.

As I continued down the sidewalk, the streetlamps flickered, fizzing and growing dim simultaneously. Stopping, I glanced around, wondering what was going on.

Removing my sunglasses, I folded them, hoping I still looked terrifying enough in my Terminator get up to avoid getting mugged. It's not like I had anything valuable with me, anyway – just a bunch of jack o'lanterns carved to look like film characters and celebrities.

"I'm hungry, mister."

I'm kind of ashamed, for I jumped about a foot off the ground and probably looked as scared as a Terminator ever has. Swinging around, I looked for the source of the voice, only to find a young boy standing there, staring up at me.

The boy had ragged hair, dark, hollow eyes, and was really thin, his ribs showing through his shirt. His skin was translucent, hauntingly so. He was staring up at me with hunger in his eyes, his stomach growling. But the weird thing was, I could see the asphalt of the road through him, faintly, but still.

"You want something to eat?" I asked hesitantly, for this boy did not look like he was really alive. I was almost afraid he was going to threaten me or attack me or something. Could a ghost or something similar attack you? I thought back to my media experience with ghosts, but I wasn't well versed in horror movies. The closest thing I had was The Sixth Sense, where apparently all the ghosts just wanted help after terrifying that poor kid.

Could this little boy just want help?

I doubted it.

"Yes," the little boy replied. "Except I can't have any."

I furrowed my brow. "What's wrong?"

"I'm hungry, mister," the boy repeated plaintively. "But I can't eat anymore."

Ooh. He died from hunger.

I crouched down, my fear gone. Maybe this really was like The Sixth Sense. "What can I do to help?"

The kid looked at me for a long time, his eyes sorrowful. "Make sure other kids don't end up like me."

Within a moment, I had an idea.

---

My pop culture jack o'lanterns sold quickly and no one complained about my prices. And I was able to donate the money to a local charity to feed hungry families.

Since then, I've only seen the little ghost boy once, but when I did see him, he was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, humming to himself, and he looked a lot happier than when I had seen him before.

It made me feel good.