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First Halloween Costume

By Halloween Alliance

After work, Susan stopped to pick up several bags of candy for trick-or-treat and then headed for home fairly exhausted. She was emptying the bags into a large bowl to keep by the front door when the phone rang. It was Don, sounding more cheerful than he had in some time. He’d called to let her know Jack had just stopped by the office to say that he and Barb weren’t going to be able to wriggle out of attending Jack’s boss’s company Hallowe’en party after all, and had all but begged Don to take Tyler and Jody trick-or-treating while he and Barb were out renting costumes and then spending a few hours standing around trying to look like they were enjoying the company of Jack’s coworkers. Don had dutifully accepted the assignment and was letting Susan know he wouldn’t be home until some time after trick-or-treat ended at 8 o’clock.

Trick-or-treat itself went largely as every year. Susan would drop a few pieces of candy into each opened sack while being careful to give all the right compliments about the costumes being displayed. She told the monsters, ghosts and vampires that they were scaring her, asked the witches not to turn her into a frog, and told the princesses and Indian maidens that she wished she was a beautiful as they.

A few minutes before eight, she saw no more children coming around, and, since it had just gotten dark anyway, concluded that she’d have no more visitors that night. Locking the front door, she helped herself to a piece of candy from the still half-full bowl and bell into a chair in front of the TV. She could find nothing but horror shows on most stations (it was Hallowe’en night, after all), and after stopping on a channel that was in the middle of a commercial break, closed her eyes to rest them for just a moment while she waited to see what kind of program would come back on.

She was startled by a knock at the front door, and jumped a little as she opened her eyes. The first thing she was the time “9:00″ on the VCR’s clock, and as she hurried to the door Susan realized that this had been the first time in maybe twenty years she’d fallen asleep in front of the TV.

She opened the door to see three little girls in their trick-or-treat outfits standing motionless on the porch. Rubbing her eyes gently, she asked “Whatever are you three doing out so late? Trick-or-treat was over a long time ago! You girls should be home. . . and. . . where are your treat bags?”

The three said nothing, standing with their arms at their sides, staring at Susan through their masks. Suddenly Susan was aware that these children were wearing the same costumes that Susan had worn all those years ago: the colorful witch, the raccoon, and the mermaid that Susan’s grandmother had made for her.

“Those costumes. . . where did you get them?” she demanded, but the girls said nothing. “Answer me! Those costumes used to belong to me! Where did–” Susan stopped in mid-sentence. It had just occurred to her what had happened only a couple of years after she’d outgrown trick-or-treating, when the fire that did so much damage to her grandmother’s house had destroyed the attic completely, and had claimed all three of her old costumes that were in storage there.

Susan gasped as a sick feeling swept over her. Her face and ears suddenly felt hot, and her legs became unsteady. Her hands shaking, she slammed the door as hard as she could. As the door was closing Susan caught a glimpse of all three of the girls reaching their arms out toward her invitingly.

She locked the door clumsily and turned her back to it, meaning to lean against the door for support long enough to catch her breath. When she turned away from the door, however, there stood the three little girls, arms outstretched at her, already quite impossibly inside the house.

Susan screamed and ran into the kitchen to call for help, but as the kitchen door swung open she could see that the girl in the witch costume had somehow gotten there ahead of her and was just tugged on the phone cord with all her might, her third yank ripping it out of the wall. Susan backed out of the kitchen as the child turned to face her, again reaching out to Susan with both arms.

Stumbling into the den, Susan next came face-to-face with the little raccoon, who had unplugged Susan’s typewriter and was just in the process of lifting it, with some difficulty, up off of Susan’s desk. The child dropped the machine into the wastebasket beside the desk, although it didn’t really fit there beyond one corner. Susan screamed once more and spun awkwardly around, running past the bathroom door. In the darkened bathroom she was able to see the mermaid gleefully dumping the contents of Susan’s purse into the sink. She saw the child lift her car keys up and study them for a second or two before very deliberately stuffing them down the sink drain. This act completed, the mermaid turned her head to face Susan directly and, now rather predictably, extended her arms toward Susan, who now collapsed onto the floor in the hall, sobbing uncontrollably.

The three little girls slowly walked toward her, surrounding her as she sat there red-faced and trembling. Susan managed to stop sobbing long enough to catch her breath and, wiping her eyes, looked one of the girls in the eye, intending to ask what it was they wanted. She never got to ask, though, as the look of genuine compassion suddenly visible in the girls’ eyes, and the realization that the girls had been putting their arms out for a hug all along, caused Susan to burst into tears louder and more intensely than before. She did her best to embrace all three of them, and continued to cry as they put their arms around her reassuringly. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt one of the girls gently stroking her hair while another patted the back of her shoulder to comfort her.

It was after 11 o’clock when Don got home, as he’d ended up staying at Barb’s with the boys until their parents returned from the party. Don went through the house calling Susan’s name and, assuming she must be in the house somewhere, went ahead loudly and apologetically yelling out that explanation for his lateness. He got no answer, and was about to go down and check to see if Susan was in the basement when he heard a knock at the front door. Opening the door, he saw a little girl of about ten standing on the porch. She said nothing, but only looked at him, giggling quietly. “Hey cutie,” Don smiled, “It’s mighty late for you to be out, isn’t it? And mighty dark, too. . . Umm. . . Do you live in the neighborhood?”

The child giggled more loudly now, seemingly taking some delight in Don’s failure to identify her.

“Well, I tell you what,” he went on, “I’d say it’s a real safe bet you’re gonna be the last trick-or-treater, so you might as well have all the candy we have left. . . How about that?”

The girl held out her treat bag, and Don carefully emptied the bowl into it, adding, “Wow, look at all that. . . You better not eat it all at once, now!” Don put the bowl back on the table and said, “That’s it, kiddo. . . that cleans us out!”, but the child stood there a moment longer. Don took note of her elaborate blue and white costume and attempted to see her eyes behind the odd, six-pointed star-shaped mask, which ended at her nose, leaving the bottom part of her face exposed. The child was smiling broadly and raised one hand to wave goodbye to Don before turning and skipping off into the darkness beyond the porch light.

Don locked the door and strolled into the TV room to wait for Susan to come home. Of course, he couldn’t have known that she never would.

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