Spook Day

(Autours note: I just realized that I forgot to upload a story for Halloween! I had written this a few months ago and waited until late October to let you all read it. But it slipped my thoughts as the holiday neared. I apologize, and hope it still is neat despite being 4 days late.
This is a kind of play on the classic movie character Micheal Myers, from "Halloween".)
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- October 29 - 9:01pm
The door of the diner opened, the bell above it causing a few scattered glances. A man wearing a toboggan and a dark coat, collar flipped up, walked in and sat at the nearest table. He took a deep breath and removed his thick gloves, spilling a fine dusting of snow on the surface.

Two more days until people will die. So soon. I have to stop it from happening. Stop the killings.

“What would you like?” The waitress asked him.

“Just coffee. And sugar please.” His headache was beginning to fade away as he smelled the brew. Such a cold night for October.

Well, what do you expect? You’re in Alaska.

For the last three years at least five people have died on Halloween- or “Spook day”, as he liked to call it. One year ago, 1977, he had came so close to preventing a murder, but, as usual, he become too emotional. Too hyped-up. He panicked and lost his concentration; nearly lost his mind.

I fouled up. Get over it and do better next time. Always a next time.

The coffee had helped his head. Snow was packed up about in inch on the street. Only flurries fell now.
He walked back to his house alone. No one on the roads but him.

- October 31 - 3:45pm
A few kids ran by his porch as he sat watching them cheerfully. Some of them were already in costume, already trick-or-treating. He had to dismiss a family or two because he had no candy to give. He planned to go to the store later and buy some. He did at 5:00pm.

Tootsie rolls, Swiss cake rolls, and Cinnamon rolls all dropped in his basket.

Too many rolls, man. Get Snickers now.

The checkout lady was slow. He was starting to get aggravated.

Calm down. Focus. How do you expect to stop the murders if you let an old lady anger you?

Images of dead bodies flashed in his head. Gutted and shot. Blood rolling down walls like fresh paint. Even children were killed.

Bastard! Why?

Bags of candy in hand, he moved to the back of his car and inserted the key in the hole, and turned. The trunk popped up and the candy went in.
The murders usually happened around 9 o’clock.

Well not tonight’s 9 o‘clock. Nope.

The drive was short back home. Looking at the mountains made him feel small and unsure. But there was hope.

The sweets fell into a big blue bowl with small thumps and crackles. He looked at the cinnamon buns and felt tempted to eat one.

He stepped out on his porch at 8:20 and watched his breath hit the chill air. His hand went into his jacket pocket and came out with a pack of cigarettes. He extracted one, stuck it between his lips, and flicked open his lighter.
Shhick. Shhick! The flame lit the tip.
The lawn chair creaked a bit as he rested his rear in it. The sky was gray and dull and the air smelled like snow. His ears and fingers were getting numb.

Whether I stop the slaying of innocents or not, I’m out of here tomorrow.

A jack-o‘-lantern was glaring at him from across the street. It’s triangle eyes were glowing with a ghostly life. He wrinkled his face at it mockingly, then looked at his watch. 8:40.

- 9:00
A group of children jogged up to his porch.

“Trick-or-treat!” They all said in unison. He smiled and held up a finger.

“I’ll be right there,” he answered then turned into his house. Inside, he lurched passed the bowl of candy and grabbed a white mask then made his way into the living room, frowning. A tight grip fastened around the handle of a suppressed pistol.

Oh that feels so good, and so bad. No killing prevention tonight. Dammit Mike!



- Joey