Short Story "Halloween 1965"
Here is my short story titled Halloween '65. It won an Honorable Mention in the 'Write On" contest of the RCLA. Enjoy!
Halloween ‘65
By B. Wells
In a fit of childish cruelty, my older brother informed me there was no such thing as Santa Clause. “Santa, elves and guardian angels are made up stories to make little girls behave.” Gleefully he added, “Everybody knows but you.”
I shot back, “If there aren’t any angels then there can’t be a devil, you can’t have one without the other because the devil’s a fallen angel.” I remembered that from church. He told me there was a real devil and one day I’d be sorry.
But by 1965 I was ten and well over the loss of a flesh and blood Santa. Halloween was my new favorite day because all you had to do to get candy was wear a costume. That year I dressed up as a gypsy fortune-teller. I wore a paisley scarf on my head and an old skirt with playing cards stapled to the hem. My next-door neighbor and best friend Peggy, was a cat. She wore a black turtle-necked sweater and matching ski pants. Her mother made ears and whiskers out of pipe cleaners. We were so excited this was the first year of trick-or-treating without any young kids to babysit.
We met up with Barb Medinger and the McKay twins, Mary and Jean, at the McKay house. Barb dressed as an artist and wore a beret her father bought in France during the war, a red tie and a white shirt with big sleeves. Mary and Joan dressed as ghosts and pulled white sheets over their heads with holes cut out for their eyes.
It was windy when we set out, our excitement heightened by the dark houses and rustling bushes. Our adventure started at the Drakes who gave caramel apples. Next the Archer’s gave packets of M & M’s. There was homemade salt-water taffy at the Lee’s. Mrs. Lee, dressed as one of the munchkin ballerinas from The Wizard of Oz, sang and danced for us. By the end of the block our bags were filed with licorice whips, chocolate nut bars, popcorn balls, malted milk balls, jelly beans, squares of fudge and ribbon taffy.
We were feeling pretty lucky and wanted to increase our loot, so we debated on whether we should risk it and cross the big street; Ashland Avenue.
Ashland was the busy street that separated the rich houses on the hill from our side by the railroad tracks. We were told never to cross that street because it was too dangerous.
But, we were big girls now, we were in the fifth grade and we wanted more candy. Mary and Jean McKay backed out because they promised their parents they would not go beyond our block.
Peggy, Barb and I crossed into the unknown while Mary and Jean walked towards Mr. Armstrong’s house. We waved and watched the twins pass under the amber streetlight as their ghost costumes ballooned in the wind.
We didn’t know the neighbors on that side of the street so we decided to go to only two houses. In the first house a young couple gave us little bags filled with candy corn, bubble gum and jawbreakers. Next, an older woman gave us homemade sugar cookies wrapped in wax paper.
Encouraged by the friendly faces, we walked along the shadowy sidewalk and searched for the next porch light when a car with two older boys pulled up to the curb.
One boy leaned out of the window, “Hey little girl want some candy?”
“Candy? Sure!” I started to move forward.
Peggy grabbed my arm and whispered, “No don’t. Kidnappers.”
I stepped back and muttered no thanks.
The driver said something to the boy at the passenger window and they laughed. The tires spat dirt as the car sped forward. We held each other and watched them turn the corner by the Armstrong house.
Peggy grabbed my arm and pulled me across Ashland in the middle of the block; back to our side of the street and safety.
Finally inside Peggy’s house, we sipped hot chocolate and dipped vanilla wafers into the steamy cups. Barb and I swapped a chocolate nut bar and a bag of M & M’s because she can’t eat nuts. I put my hands on my knees and told Peggy this was the best holiday ever. She giggled.
Once home I hid my candy under my pillow because last year my brother stole all of it. My Mom entered my room without knocking and I jumped, I thought it was my brother.
She smoked a Benson and Hedges cigarette and asked me how my night went.
I said Mrs. Lee dressed like a Munchkin and sang the song. I liked it better than last years Betty Boop costume and song. I said Peggy’s Mom made us hot chocolate.
Then I told her of two boys asking if we wanted candy and Peggy’s warning they were kidnappers.
“Oh kidnappers!” Mom said. “We have no money for ransom. That would be pretty sad, huh? We have your daughter you better give us $200.00. Well, you can keep her because we don’t have any money.” Mom laughed at her joke.
“Come on. Time for bed.” She said and left.
It was early the next morning when Mr. McKay and two police officers knocked on the front door. My brother whispered I was in big trouble and pinched my arm.
Mr. McKay looked as tired and wrinkled as his raincoat. My mother offered him coffee as she lit up a cigarette.
The older officer held his hat under his arm and said they were here because the girls were missing. He asked if he could speak with me privately. My mother agreed and told Mr. McKay to sit at the kitchen table. She handed him a cigarette from her pack. He accepted that.
The officer took me into the living room and asked about my night, who dressed as what and how much candy we got. I brought out my pillowcase and pulled out a few treasures and told him where we got them. He saw the cookies and asked where I got those and I told him it was from the nice lady across the street.
That’s when I remembered the boys in the car.
I told the officer of the two boys asking if we wanted candy and Peggy’s warning.
The officer asked all sorts of questions. All I remembered was how the tires spun in the dirt.
The officers thanked my Mom and left. Mr. McKay, dazed, followed them.
No ransom note came that day or that week or that month. On Thanksgiving it snowed and covered the city in five inches of soft cold down. I wondered if Mary and Jean were warm enough, if the kidnappers were taking care of them.
Christmas passed and so did New Year’s. The McKay house, once full of light and laughter, now grew dark and quiet. Mr. McKay stopped working and spent more and more time at the taverns occasionally asking if anyone had seen his girls. Mrs. McKay took in laundry to pay the bills. They both had empty eyes and moved like marionettes.
In spring the air turned and snow began to melt. A man, walking along the railroad tracks down the hill from my house, spotted bloodstained sheets. Hidden underneath were the twins broken bodies.
For the longest time I’d see Mary and Jean in crowds just on the next corner or across the street. I knew it couldn’t be them, but I had to try to catch up to them. They disappeared long before I got there. By the time I was in high school I gave up.
When I see them now I just wave.
End