Halloween Story: The Visitor

The Visitor

The white sheets with black eyes peering through holes of the costume gave no clue as to who the kid was.  He had appeared under the small tree in the front yard about half an hour after the streets had cleared from the last of the kids making their way home from the bus.  He didn’t speak or move as I set out this year’s carved jack-o-lanterns.  I watched him from the corner of my eye.  He – or it could have been a she – was pretty small.  The edges of the sheet hid his feet entirely, and seemed to float along the top of the grass.  He looked pretty thin, too, as there was clearly no bulk under that sheet.

I went inside to get the candy ready, and to put on my witchy hat.  The first streetlights were coming on when I carried the small table out to the patio, and set it up by my pretty park bench.  The kid was still there, standing in the same spot, staring at me, not moving.

“Happy Halloween!”  I called cheerily, waving my hand.

Nothing.  He just stood there.

I went inside to get the cauldron of mini chocolate bars, and a couple of LED candles.  I snatched up the orange burlap table covering as I went out the door; I had almost forgotten it.

He was still there.  Up and down the streets, porch lights began to wink on.

I put the cauldron and burlap on the bench, then switched on the candles, and settled one in each of the smiling pumpkins.  No chilly October winds would blow those out.  I glanced at the ghosty kid as I spread the bright orange cover on the small table.  He hadn’t so much as shifted his weight, so far as I could tell.  The cloth was bright in the glow of our own porch light.  I set the black, iron cauldron filled with candy on the table, and then settle myself on the bench, wrapping my heavy, woolen cloak warmly around me.

“Trick or treat?” I called to the kid, smiling invitingly, and pointing to the candy.

He didn’t twitch.  I couldn’t see any sign of a treat bag anywhere, unless it was hidden in the folds of the sheet.

A cold Halloween wind blew along the street, funneled by the row of houses.  Every tree rustled and swayed, and a swirl of leaves, dust, and a few early candy wrappers rushed along the pavement.  I caught at my hat.  That was very odd.  The kid’s sheet didn’t so much as ripple.

The sounds of children’s laughing voices calling out to each other announced the beginning of the neighborhood’s trick-or-treating.  In moments, a little pink fairy and an even littler maned lion came nervously up the walk, shepherded by a witch, pushing a stroller with a plump ladybug strapped inside, and a very realistic Army sergeant in desert camouflage and well-shined boots.

“Twick o’ twee…” the little fairy said, barely audible.  The lion just stared and awkwardly held a purple plastic pumpkin. 

I dropped two candy bars each in the fairy’s bag and the lion’s pumpkin, and two more in a bag the witch held out, nominally for the ladybug; I avoid the peanut types for that one.

As they walked around the car and down the driveway, I saw a pair of middle-sized zombies and a very bore-looking teenage vampire walk right past the ghost kid.  They didn’t speak to him, or even glance at him; he didn’t move.

Through a busy hour of dropping chocolate into bags and pumpkins, and admiring dozens of delightful costumes, I kept half an eye on the kid.  He never turned, twitched, or spoke.  I couldn’t swear that his eyes even blinked.  Other kids passed him as though he was just another tree in the yard.  A few dogs came on leashes, but none paused to sniff him.  The occasional wind never moved his sheets.

When it seemed that the last of the kids had gone, and the nearby porch lights were winking off, the kid was still there.

“There are a few left,” I called to him.  “Dontcha want some candy for Halloween?”

Suddenly, the kid moved.  He came toward me, gliding smoothly, not walking.  I glanced at the grass, but there were no footprints.  No leaves moved as he passed over them.  He closed the distance between us in just a few seconds.  He had made me uneasy all evening, but now I was afraid.

“Thank you,” whispered through the wind, audible, but clearly not spoken. 

As I watched, the ghostly figure drifted to the cauldron.  The last half dozen or so candy bars floated up through the air, and passed right through the sheet, a few inches below the still-impassive eyes.

“Go-o-o-od!” whispered the wind that now swirled gently around the form, when the last of the chocolate had disappeared.  “Tha-a-a-a-n-n-nks….”

The figure no longer looked like a child wearing a sheet.  The fabric became a filmy, white mist, and a soft glow suffused it.  As the ghost rose into the air, the mistily insubstantial form began to gently billow and shift.  It floated up over the tree where it had stood all night, and I saw a second, darker figure drift up from behind the tree, red eyes glowing like infernal coals amid raggedly shifting shreds of blackness.

“Not this year, the demonic figure hissed with rage.  I saw that it held in its right claw a large, black scythe.  “Not this year, thanks to you, you little meddler!”

I was stunned to see that, threatening though it appeared, the large, black figure retreated before the smaller, white figure.  As they floated past the nearest streetlight, they swirled together in a wind that crackled unnaturally, and they were gone.  I heard the sound of a dove’s wings fluttering near me, and caught a whiff of fresh-baked sugar cookies, and then the moment passed.

I gathered my table, cauldron, and cloth, but left the candles to burn.  Hurrying into the house, I locked the door and switched off the porch light.  I was shaking, as I had not done outdoors.  I sank into my chair, and smiled as my husband brought me a bowl of fresh, hot chicken soup.  Halloween was over for another year.