Escaping Halloween


by Helena Yankovska

The doorbell echoed from far away inside the house. A moment later, a silky voice trilled from inside. “Come right in!” Drawn in by the promise of sweets, the child followed the voice down the hall and into a dim room. Sitting in a rocking chair, a sweet-looking grandma held out a basket filled with brightly-colored candies. Suddenly, the child realized he was in a bad position and looked around doubtfully. “Oh, take as many as you want!” the lady reassured with a slight smile. With this, the child slowly stuck his hand in the basket and pulled out…a bloodied eyeball. Horrified, the child yelped and dropped it, his face a mask of terror. The old lady cackled with laughter. “Oh dearie, happy Halloween!” Then, before the child even had time to react, she snatched a bloodstained, rusty old sword from beside her and forcefully drove it straight through him. The child screamed, a scream that rattled the windows and shook the floor, as blood spurted all over the fresh linen sheets, rusted chair legs, and glossy floor. Then, he slowly crumpled to the ground, his eyes glazed over as blood slowly collected in a puddle around him.

Five years later, the sudden disappearance of children every Halloween was the only talk of the town. More than ten children had gone missing. Every kid had been warned to stay at home. However, some foolish kid would always sneak out and explore the deserted houses around the town in the dead of night, as many wanted to brave their peers. However, this year was going to be different.


John had heard the stories, and he wanted to solve the mystery once and for all. He, the hero of the town; he, the most revered kid on the block; he, a local legend. So, late at night, he snuck out and trudged up the dirt path that led to the less-inhabited part of the town, fueled by adrenaline. It was a desolate place: the street lamps were extinguished, the roads hadn’t been paved in years, most of the houses had creaking shutters and smashed windows, and an eerie silence had descended.

Now, John suddenly felt something was off. He briskly started home when suddenly, a faint whisper echoed from inside one of the houses. Now, he was torn between abandoning or continuing, but curiosity got the better of him. He crept closer and closer to the sound, and soon, he could make out the whispers. “Save me… free me…” somebody seemed to be wailing from inside.

This was his chance to be a hero. With a deep breath, John slowly turned the rusted doorknob. The door swung open with a loud creak. He flinched. The house was enveloped in a fog of darkness. He saw nothing at first, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could recognize old items strewn across the floor. Just then, a faint blue wisp behind an old rocking chair caught the corner of his eye. It was a spirit, no doubt of one of the missing children. Following the blue glow, he cautiously felt his way across the hall and into what was once a room.

Just then, the clock chimed twelve. It was midnight.

The ghost had suddenly vanished, leaving the house pitch-black once again, yet there was an unwelcome presence in the room. Odd. Suddenly, he stepped on something slimy and bent over. A bloody eyeball. Inside an basket of moldy candy. An owl hooted off in the distance. He suddenly realized in horror what had happened to the children, but it was too late. His eyes widened in shock, and he tried to scream, yet no sound escaped his mouth.

Slowly, he crumpled to the floor, as an old lady pulled out a rusted, bloody sword from inside his gut. One more added to the collection. She broke into a cruel sneer.