It was the dawn of a fall day, and not just any ordinary day in the fall- it was Halloween night. All of the kids were out trick-or-treating while the adults handed out candy without truly expressing the theme of the holiday. But, as a teen, it was my job to show people the true meaning of Halloween. Every night of the “haunted” holiday, I would gather my friends and have a night of mischief, throwing rolls of toilet paper at our English teacher’s home, placing toothpicks in a resident’s doorknob and jumping out of the bushes to take some dumb kid’s candy and eat it right before their eyes, all before the sun rises and another day of school begins. It was all in good fun, and I’m sure you’ve had memories doing such things as well- it was all in the spirit, after all.

Then the biggest night of our lives came up. Senior year, we all knew we HAD to make it our biggest event that the city will ever see, nolonger will we simply burn bags of dog shit on our neighbor’s front porch, we will turn out an ambitious scare- one that would traumatize thechildren and hell, even the adults for decades. Jacob was the brainiac of the group, and he was in charge of the plan, and it was probably thegreatest thing I had heard. The idea of wearing a pumpkin on your head wasn’t scary, but imagine the innocence people would see out of thisman wearing a pumpkin- no one would suspect Mr. Pumpkin boy would be up to no good, now would they?

I watched from the bushes as Dave, who usually was the one who dressed in costume, walked into the playground with the pumpkin on his head. Weall were looking forward to this. There was a small, young boy on the swings, all by himself. I remember the time we spray pained “LOSER” ontohis mother’s house. Good times. Anyway, I loved the little boy’s curious expression as Dave offered him candy through his giant bag… but ofcourse, there was nothing in it but black paint to make it seem like an endless void. Dave asked the boy to look deeper to find the candy, asI tried to hold in my laughter. With a quick jolt, he leaped onto the young boy as he exhaled into the bag, and as he struggled and cried,vomit in the bag and all, he started to scream for his “Mommy and daddy!” Of course, there was no way out of his fate, and as he sobbed andsobbed for salvation, he just stopped and gave into the dark orange hands of death. The sight of the boy’s limp body was delicious- and I justcouldn’t hold in my laughter. What a perfect way to start such a night.

After what seemed like days and days of endless fun, we started to get a bit tired, but we wanted to finish the night with the “grand finale.”I called for Dave’s name, but I didn’t get an answer. I thought it was a joke, but I kept calling his name into the pitch black night, but…nothing. I looked back and I realized that none of my friends were there. I was alone- alone as in being victim of some sick prank, Ibelieved. I walked around the city until I found Mike, laying down under a street light, perfectly still. The city was usually filled withcars driving by and people desperately wanting you to buy their products that they spent 2 hours creating, but tonight it was strangely quiet.As I examined Mike, I noticed something wasn’t right- there was a sight of blood. No wonder he was so still, huh? But let’s be honest, hedeserved it, he wasn’t a very good person. What actually caught my interest however was the dark shadow in the distance.

The shadowy figure walked closer and closer, and eventually the poorly lit streetlight showed the man in all his glory- it was Dave, scythe inhand and the pumpkin still on his head. Strangely, he seemed… a bit taller? He had a different set of clothes on as well. I pointed at thescythe and yelled out to him, “Dude, where the hell did you get that?” He didn’t respond, and he walked slowly towards my direction. There wasthe voice screaming in my head, “Get out of there, get out of there, get out of there…” It just kept repeating the same damn thing, usually ithas more variety than that! But I got the message, that guy was not Dave, but someone else- perhaps someone pretending to be him. I started toback up from him, and then the man started to sprint towards me. I knew what I had to do, I had to man up- and run like hell. I must have ranfor miles and miles, but I couldn’t get rid of him. I went through a forest I’ve never seen. It was as quiet as still as the city. I saw alone wooden cabin next to a stream, and I ran inside. I saw a chair next to a table, and quickly used it to barricade the door- but strangely,I heard no one trying to bang their way through.

As of now, I don’t think he is trying to get in. I will try to write an “aftermath” if I can make it out alive. I’m writing this with ink andfeather which I found on a desk. This cabin must be from the fuckin’ Roman times, right? Who the hell even uses ink and feather for anythinganymore? There is a carpet in the middle of this room and it looks strangely new, especially for a white carpet. As of now, I will finish thiswriting and just wait it out until dawn.

Jabez Jackson