the halloween house
there is a house, at the corner of candleberry and elm. it is an ordinary house, with a brown shingled roof, red brick walls, and green shutters. most of the time, no one gives it a second glance. their eyes slide right over it, moving from one house to the next. there is nothing special about it.
except there is.
every year, on october first, a halloween decoration appears. sometimes it’s something small, like fake spiders on the shutters. other times it’s enormous, like the projection of the incredible hulk, who raises his brings down on top of you. for a second you think you have died, until you realize it’s only a projection. but they’re always there. and they’re always different. and by halloween, it’s a wonderland of horrors.
the adults think it’s sinister. no one goes into that house, and no one comes out. it would be presumed empty if not for the annual event. they take turns ringing the bell, bringing cookies to make it seem like a friendly visit instead of a reconnaissance mission. no one answers. they try the door. locked. the same thing every time.
the children adore it. they gather at the corner of candleberry and elm, their eyes roving over the structure, desperate to be the first to spot the newest decoration. all of them relish in the mystery of it, the element of surprise that keeps them up at night.
all of them forget it, of course. they grow up, lose interest, head off to bigger and better things. all except for one.
egbert danielson is seven years old. he has curly brown hair, creamy brown skin, and thousands of freckles. he is just like any other child, except for one thing.
egbert is only happy for one month a year-october. it’s as if he saves all his happiness up for this one month, when the house on the corner of candleberry and elm comes alive. he is always the first to spot the latest cobweb, skeleton, or fake headstone. he notices things about the house that no one else does.
he notices the flashes of pale skin through the shutters, as though someone is running through the house. he notices the soft blue light that seems to permeate every crack of the building. he notices the pair of slippers sitting on the roof, right next to the chimney. he notices the cuts running up and down the arms of the woman who opens the door, when he finally gets up the courage to knock.
she doesn’t say anything at first. her eyes speak volumes. they are the same muddy color as ocean water, and they have a shattered quality to them. her skin is translucent, and you can see the outlines of bones through it. finally, she speaks.
“we’ve been waiting for you,” she smiles, her face skeletal as she leans forward and bites him on the neck.
the next morning, there is a new decoration on the halloween house.
hey guys! long time, no see, am i write? 😜 i hope you enjoy this seasonal short story. have a fantastic (spoooooooky) day!
love from,
Authors Press 