"The Death of Fables" - A Serialized Collection of Flash Fiction (Part 3: Halloween)
My first attempt at writing a cohesive collection of flash fiction was this strange, satirical (and often dark) look at the holidays. Not only the holiday, but the special days throughout the years as well; birthdays, 9/11, the changing of seasons, etc. I've done absolutely no editing on any of the original texts, so hopefully they're not too terrible and I hope you enjoy.
Orion stands guard over my neighborhood during October, his belt dangling into the neighbor’s yard as if to give them a way out of their father’s drunken skill with his own. I can imagine the adolescent squeals of terror as the silver-headed whip connects with young hide. I see them slow-march to the car, heads down and silent, each morning as I hold court with my coffee, my smokes, and my newspaper on the front porch. The father stares at me as he loads them like cargo into the backseat and I find the routine disturbing in its solemnity.
Halloween was a few weeks away and I, in my nature to make the most of the holidays, decorated the front of the house in readiness for young ghouls and ballerinas on the prowl for sweets. The holiday itself is absurd; parents spend years teaching their children to not take candy from strangers, but one night out of the year, they recant and let their spawn take candy from a multitude of strangers over the course of several hours. It’s as if the costumes somehow give carte blanche to random candy acquisitions.
I made plans to sit on my porch all evening dressed as the Scarecrow from ‘The Wizard of Oz.’ A chair, some hay, and a large bowl of candy on the porch were accented by the graves and skeletal arms protruding from the front lawn. I hung cobwebs along the trellis and a few bats from the underside of the porch roof and the idea was to sit as silently as possible, frightening kids as they rang the doorbell.
Friday evening came quickly and I took my seat around the hay, sprawled out and in character. My first trick-or-treaters showed up after about an hour or so and they were incredibly young. Spider-Man escorted a fairy princess up the steps and I opted for a friendly hello instead of self-pissing fright. They held out the plastic pumpkins, gripped white-knuckled as if theft were a possibility, and I let sugar fall into the large opening. So young and nervous, I chuckled as I waved at their parents and smiled; they forgot to say ‘Trick or Treat’ in their haste to get back to the safety of mom and dad.
The porch light never came on across the street. The car was there and I could see movement on occasion through the windows, but I never saw anyone leave the house all night long. A few of the trick-or-treaters left my porch and headed directly to the neighbor’s, but no one ever answered their knockings. Those in costume brushed it off as someone not being home, but I knew better and wondered why the neighbor kids weren’t allowed in a night of terror outside of the house and why their parents kept the door shut tight.