Halloween

October 28, 2019

Greetings from the monkey trap,

The screen door slams, Caleb’s cape waved.

His mother had given him a pillowcase, the largest one in the linen closet.  He had rejected the first one as ‘preposterous’, a word rarely spoken by an eight-year-old, albeit one dressed as a superhero.  When he burst through the front door of 609 Chandler, he was already running faster than the sound of his parent’s warnings.

Caleb’s nylon cape fluttered behind him as he ran, one fist holding the pillowcase, the other pumping in front of his Batman chest-emblem as he churned down the sidewalk.  He darted up another sidewalk and stomped up the steps and took a deep breath and yelled: “Trick or Treat!!”

The door was open, the storm door had both panels removed to make handing out candy easier.  A dog came to the door and then disappeared.  A moment later a white-haired woman appeared with a bowl of candy.

“Well, hello!  And who are you?” she gushed.

Caleb drew another breath, already prepared: “I am Batman.”

“You are! That’s wonderful, here you go honey.” And he watched a sleeve of Smarties drop into the bag.  He timed his thank-you so he was off the porch before the sound waves hit the old lady’s ears.

He was a force.  Weaving between other monsters and hoboes and wizards, landing on the porch just as kids had already tripped the Trick or Treat trigger.  He swept in and got the goods and flew off, running to the next porch.  House after house, block after block, relentless, obsessed.  Time meant nothing, only the next Kit Kat, the next Baby Ruth, the blurred exchange of threat and reward and then leaping into the darkness, the pillowcase on his back.  He rushed through the night, the Dark Knight, in a licensed costume from Rexall, flying past jack-o-lanterns and corn husks and outlandish spiderwebs; fearless.  The moon gave witness as it moved across the sky.

Caleb pushed the pillowcase off the porch and leapt to the ground and pulled with all his strength, managed to drag the bulging sack to the sidewalk.  The porch light winked off behind him.  He pulled it a little farther, his arms shaking with the effort, finally stopping at an empty lot.  He sat on the grass and wrapped his legs around the bag of candy, now bigger than him, and pushed his mask up onto his forehead.

Down each side of the street he saw some of the porch lights were going off.  He considered this for a moment and realized he didn’t even know what street he was on.  His face twisted for a moment in a scowl. 

His parents had argued with him, wanted him to wait and go with his Dad and little sister. 

“I can go on my own. I don’t need Dad to go with me.”  Caleb was adamant, actually stomping one of his feet as he said this.  In any other moment this defiance would have ended in solitary confinement.  But somehow, this night was different.  Caleb sensed his power.

“Ok, Cal, but you have to stay on our street.” his Dad said, in his most serious Dad voice.  There was some instructions and warnings about when to be home, none of which would matter to anyone later.

Caleb saw a movement in the dark, on the sidewalk, slowly moving toward him.  He pushed his mask back down over his face instinctively.  He leaned into his bag of candy and inhaled the aroma of sugar, gathering strength, as he watched the figure make its way among the piles of leaves.

It was another kid.  At first glance Caleb thought he was Batman too, but as soon as he was close enough, he could make out the brighter colors of the Man of Steel.

“Hey.” the Superman kid said.  He was pulling a huge burlap bag behind him, like something a stevedore would haul off a freighter.  Caleb’s first thought was how he could get a bag like that.  He was suddenly embarrassed at his pillowcase, king size or not.

“Hey.” Caleb responded.

The kid grunted and pulled the enormous sack, obviously filled with candy, up to where Caleb was sitting.  He sat down with a gasp and leaned against his haul.

“I’m Aron.”

“Caleb.”

“Looks like you’ve had a huge night.” said Aron.  “Your parents coming to get you?”

Caleb looked at the Superman.  He was eight, he knew better than to trust anyone on Halloween, even if he was a goodie-goodie like Kal El.  He said nothing.

More porch lights went out.  The street was empty.  No costumes, no tinny voices yelling.  Caleb looked back at the other kid.  “I should get going.” he said.  He stood and heaved at his bag.  It didn’t budge.  Superman nodded in the dark.

“You could leave your bag here with me,” said Aron, “and run home and get your parents to come get you.  I’ll watch your stuff.”  In the dim light Caleb could see the kid smiling.

“Nah.” Caleb said. He lifted again and the bag didn’t move an inch.  Maybe he needed to get rid of a few things.

He pawed through the top layer, looking for things he could sacrifice.  Here was a mini bag of Fritos, an apple.  Toss.  Some dental floss, a ruler with the name of some insurance company.  Toss.  Milk Duds?  Hm.  Bit O’ Honey?  Toss. Necco’s?  Blech. A small mound of rejects formed on the sidewalk.  Caleb lifted again, pulling the cloth over his shoulder to leverage it off the sidewalk.  The wrappers inside creaked against each other but nothing moved.

He sat back down.  In the dark he could make out the shape of Superman, the kid watching him. 

If he couldn’t carry the candy, maybe he could eat some of it, lighten the load.  He looked again at his company there in the half light.  Aron had read his mind, was already eating, tearing the wrapper off a full-sized PayDay.  Caleb’s mouth set and he reached into his bag, pulled a fistful of Tootsie Pops and Smarties and Hershey’s Kisses.

Wet leaves fell into the grass, stuck to the sidewalk around them.  A cricket offered advice neither of the boys heard.  Chewing tootsie rolls, Mounds Bars, digging in for more, desperately tearing at the mass of confection with the hope to both eat it and have it.  The moon hid its face, embarrassed.

The porch light at 609 Chandler was on.  A face appeared in the small window in the door and looked both ways down the dark street.  And then the porch light went off.  The darkness was proud.

Submitted for your approval; two lonely figures on a dark street.  Clinging madly to the dilemma that confounds them and delights them.  No one watching would be so swept so easily into this madness, unless they were sitting on the cold sidewalk with these poor souls, in the Halloween Zone.

Hope this finds you letting go,

David

Copyright © 2019 David Smith