Halloween Candy

There's a certain house during halloween that gives out something quite different to its eager trick-or-treaters.

On the busy, dark streets of Renolds, Michagan, children and adults alike were combing the streets in bright and unique costumes, empty pillowcases or pumpkin-shaped baskets in their hands. A particularly large group of giggling teenagers made their way across the houses, bellowing TRICK OR TREAT" into the unsuspecting inhabitants and collecting their candy. It was a normal Halloween night; spirits were in the air, candy was on the ground, and children dotted the streets like ants.

The third house down on Merryweather Lane was a quite one. No cheap, flashing decorations dotted the front lawn, no warm, inviting candy-giver waited for the trick-or-treaters at his door. Instead, it was dark, and the lawn was so unkempt that it seemed as though the house was empty of inhabitants. But in the house lived an old couple, tired of the world and its strange ways, and contempt to just at home with a nice bit of newspaper.

But, tonight being Halloween, this quite couple was soon to be disrupted every few minutes with the ear-splitting sound of the doorbell. The couple were calm, however, because, unknown to the outside world, they had a little game of theirs to ease their suffering.

            The large group of teenage trick-or-treaters approached the middle house on Merryweather court, giggling and shivering in the cold October air.

"Ooh, that's a spooky looking house," came the whisper of a princess wearing a fluffy pink dress, glitter smeared all over her cheeks.

"Spooky? Come on; it’s not even decorated,” snorted a pirate from the middle of the group, but he grabbed his plastic sword uncertainly.

"It looks like no one lives in it. Let's go to the next house, Greg; skip this one,”  

Greg snorted again. "Oh come on, there must be lots of candy in that house! I say we go."

And with that he led the way up the small steps to the porch, lifting his hand to ring the doorbell.

They could hear a deep dong come from within the house, echoing off the walls and rooms. Nothing else could be heard; no approaching footsteps or flick of light switch.

"Ooh, I don't like this, let's go!" Sharon pleaded, hiding her face with her fingers. Nick sighed and was just about to turn away when the door opened with a snap, making Nick almost trip over the stairs. Sharon screamed, several others gasped.

It was the old man of the house, and he looked old indeed. Wrinkles carved their way through his face like a badly cut sculpture, and age had frozen the scowl upon his face. There were deep hollows around his eyes and the thin wisps of hair that fell across his face were silver white. He was holding a bowl stacked with strangely wrapped toffees and sweets, and with a grunt he threw them into the bags of the trick-or-treaters, not even stopping to say "Happy Halloween," or "Have a nice night,". Instead, he sneered and slammed the door in their faces, leaving every single one of them speechless, eyebrows raised high.

"What a strange old man," came the squeaky voice of girl dressed as vampire.

Nick dug into his bag to find the candy the man had given. It was oddly shaped, and wrapped in a colorful logo that was unfamiliar to him. "The old geezer gave us cheap candy too; I doubt any of this will taste any good,"

"I don't know, I really like toffee, and he gave us so much" protested a 15 year-old Frankenstein.

Still chattering on about the rudeness of the man, the group moved on, not giving the strange treats another thought.

 

Back in the house, the old man made his way to the kitchen, were a few candles were glimmering slightly. His wife stood near the sink, cutting up slabs of meat, which she later threw into the frying pan, watching them sizzle as they cooked.

"More kids, Alfred?" she asked calmly, as the man slid down into a chair with a groan.

"Yeah, more stupid, nasty little buggers."

His wife chuckled, stirring the steaming frying pan absentmindedly. "You have to admit that this year is a bit more interesting though. Do you think they'll like them?"

Alfred sneered. "Like them? Even if they don't like them, they'll still gobble them down like the bunch of savages that they are." He strolled over to his wife, eyeing the cooking meat with a look of pity.

"Poor little Freddie. Didn't know what was coming to him, did he?"

"Oh but we had to do it, Alfred, you know we needed some meat for our little prank."

Alfred sighed, picking up a piece of the meat with his fingers. "Yes, but he was such a sweet child, not like the others. I suppose that's why he cooks so well."

"And he tastes absolutely divine when covered with the sugar coating for the candies."

Alfred's wife pointed to the pile of meat-candies she had laid out to wrap in the bright colored paper, covered with a fake logo.

"True." Alfred replied, and he couldn't help smiling as he thought of their little joke. "Poor, poor Freddie. He really didn't know what was coming to him." 

Author's Note

What do you think?

Reviews

[the-One-with-the-Darkne..]

Very good. Just like the old fairy tales

[Samuel Dickens]

Well, the old fairy tales are just full of children getting cooked in a pot. A bit of irony, huh? Feeding kids to the kids. A worthy tale, Fantasy Writer.