u/fungaldirt

2 days in a row, the internet has just cut out, "connected without internet." It stays out for over an hour, regardless of modem/router resets. Super frustrating because the only reason we switched is because of price difference. Spectrum rarely ever had issues like this. I guess this is a lesson of getting what you pay for. 🙄

I have finished the short story but it exceeds the character limit so I will post the 2nd half in a day or so. The second part is the bulk of the story. This is a first draft, want to make sure it's a good story before spending more time on it as I have laid some duds before. If you take the time to read it, I appreciate you. Hope to put all you creeps in a spooky season mood!

October 31st 1998

My feet were killing me. Each step was like walking on nails, causing a sharp, stabbing pain through my heel and into my calf. The ache in my jaw was from clenching against the agony of walking but each time my brother looked back at me, all I could do was smile. I'm sure he could tell it was forced. My face had to look like a horror show of sweat and smeared face paint accompanied by a grin that was almost a grimace.

“Are you okay, Stevie? Are you ready to go back home?” He would ask over and over, checking if I was ready to break. His own fake smile was made out of a twisted cruelty that said, ‘admit it already!’

Of course, I would never toss in the towel. Not now that I had finally gotten to hang out with older kids. I told him over and over, “No way! I'm still good to go,” and so on we went. House after house, some sparsely decorated, others more festive, any and all that had a porch light lit. I kept pace with Jack and his two best friends, not letting the exhaustion win.

Mom and dad had to hear the worst kind of noises from Jack when they told him that I would be tagging along with him this year. It was like they ruined his whole life. He was 14, this was his last year trick or treating, it wasn't fair, I was going to ruin his Halloween, his friends were going to abandon him, and on and on. I listened from the other room, afraid that he would eventually wear them down. However, my parents had plans of their own and gave no ground.

Now, with my blistered feet and burning calves, I almost wished they had let Jack have his way. Even with the overloaded pillow sack of candy, tonight was feeling like a death march rather than Halloween fun. My saving grace came in the form of porch lights going out, one by one as we watched, or so I thought.

“Man. Looks like shops’ closing up for the night.” Vic says, his bulging sack of candy hanging over his shoulder. Vic was a tall kid with a sly, pimple covered face. He was the kind of guy who would poke sticks into an anthill and be mesmerized by the sight of them crawling all over each other. His curly red hair was usually stuffed into a Yankees ball cap but tonight he was sporting a rubber mask shaped like the devil. The red jumpsuit looked like it had been made for a much smaller kid. By the way the pointed tail dragged the ground and the patches covering the knees, it was obvious this was not the first year this costume had been used. Vic was not a very bright kid but had a hell of a pitch. He could throw a ball nearly 80 miles an hour as a freshman in high school.

Chris, the short, stocky kid currently dressed as the Leprechaun from the horror movie, looked at his watch, the greenish glow illuminating his eyes through his ghoulish mask. “It is almost 10.” Chris was almost the opposite of Vic, smart and not at all athletic. He was bookish and enjoyed playing with gadgets, like the Casio on his wrist. Chris, obsessed with horror movies and conspiracy theories, looked as sweaty as I did and was perhaps just as hopeful that this long night was nearly over. Though I couldn't see his round, freckled face, the sound of his heavy breathing was loud enough to hear through the mask.

My brother Jack, stood in the middle of the road, looking down the street, not saying a word, though we all felt his restless energy. “It's Saturday…” he said, sounding offended that anyone considered 10pm as late. Jack's blood sprayed hockey mask sat askew on his head, not covering his face at all. He seemed to be “too cool” to wear the only attempt at a costume he had made. My guess was, he didn't want to cover the budding mustache he was so proud of. Throughout the night, he was too embarrassed to say, “trick or treat” and held his pillow case out like it was an act of torture.

I kept quiet, standing just behind this trio of angst, waiting for one of them to say the inevitable part out loud so we could all go home, watch scary movie reruns, and eat candy until we passed out. I think that's what Vic and Chris were expecting too.

“Let's go make the offering and call it a night,” Chris said after waiting on Jack for a few long seconds.

Suddenly, my brother perked up. Jack smiled as he looked at his friends and then back at me. I could see that trouble was coming. He was wearing the same smile that came before a mean punch or a cruel prank.

“You guys know what would be really cool?” Jack asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“What?” Vic asked, his hand digging into his sack, searching for another piece of double bubble to add to the monstrous wad in his mouth.

“If we took the candy.”

“What candy?” Chris asked, sounding as nervous as I was starting to feel.

“The offering candy, duh.” Jack said, sounding animated now. “Think about it, there's probably a mother load of it there by now.”

No one spoke for a while.

“You guys aren't a bunch of sissy assholes, are you?” Jack asked, looking at each of us in turn. “You don't really believe in that shit!”

“Of- of course not!” Chris answered a little too quickly.

I finally found my voice. “You don't think it's real?”

Jack laughed. “You think an evil spirit that haunts the town and will only spare you if you leave candy at its grave is real?”

“My dad said it's real.” Vic said, though he had trouble speaking around the ball of pink gum in his mouth.

“He was just trying to scare you, like all the other grown ups.” Jack said, sounding increasingly more annoyed by the second. “That's kid shit, like Santa Clause and the Easter bunny.”

Everyone shuffled uncomfortably for a few seconds. I was 12, well over believing in Santa but the town curse was something that even the adults believed in. I remember last year, standing in line with dad at the cemetery, waiting our turn to place candy at the gravestone. None of the adults that were there, holding the hands of their kids, looked as if it was something made up. To me, it appeared to be something as serious as church.

“I dunno, man.” Chris said, not quite looking at Jack. “Can we just leave some and go home? I got a lot already.”

He was right, all of us had plenty of candy. We had been out for hours, looping through neighborhoods with methodical precision. The idea of robbing a graveyard was not only scary, it was unnecessary.

“I knew it.” Jack sighed. “Bunch of girls, wetting your panties over a ghost story.” He looked back at me. “What about you, little brother? You pussy too?”

“N-no…” I said, my voice cracking.

“See. Even the Franen-dork doesn't believe in it. Come on, guys. This is our last year! Let's hit the jackpot!”

“Okay.” Chris said after a few seconds. “I'll go with you but I'm good.” He patted his sack of candy. “I'm loaded.”

Vic didn't answer. He lifted his devil mask and spit out a pink wad of slimy gum and spit. The sugar blob plopped on the asphalt with a wet splash that made me grimace. Vic reached into his pillow case and pulled out a fresh gum ball and popped it into his mouth, starting the cycle over.

The walk to the cemetery was done mostly in silence. The cold wind carried dead leaves across our path, sounding like slithering creatures slowly surrounding us. Jack kept trying to stir up excitement with talk of the treasure we were in for. I was no longer feeling the pain in my feet, but there was no relief in the alleviation. My stomach was twisting in knots and I was starting to wonder if I was going to vomit.

The heavy, rod iron gates materialized from the darkness and the air became still as the grave we were facing. The sound of Vic's nervous chewing echoed in the dark, bouncing back at us from the shadows. Jack snapped at him to cut it out and I could hear the nervousness in my big brother's voice. Jack o lanterns normally lit the path to the gravestone but we were out late and most of the candles were out. The few that were still burning made more shadows than light.

“Sweet! We're the only ones here.” Jack said, now faking the bravado he had earlier.

I wondered if he had hoped there were still some people here. It would have given us an excuse to ditch the heist.

“Yeah…” Chris said. “It's pretty late.”

We all stood there as if waiting for someone to tell us it was okay to enter. I was missing my parents. Every year up to this point, one or both of them had been with me when I came to make an offering. The cemetery never felt this tense before. My hand itched, longing for the strong, confident grip of my father's. Finally, Jack broke the stillness.

“Come on, chicken shits.” Jack said and began to walk through the open gate.

Chris, Vic, and I followed him like shadows. We seemed to draw closer together until I could feel Chris's excessive body heat and hear Vic's teeth wringing out every drop of flavor from the gum he was trying to quietly chew. All of us had walked this path before but tonight was different. It felt like we were being watched.

Some years ago, the church that was next to the cemetery had placed a concrete bowl in front of the tombstone. It was an attempt to keep the candy from littering the grass but over time, as the town grew in population, the size of the bowl was only large enough to keep half the offered candy from laying on the ground. As we stood and looked at the spilling mound of chocolates, gummies, suckers, licorice, and more, it was easy to picture the hundreds of kids dropping piece by piece here.

Chris, as if moving on reflex, stepped forward and placed a pack of candied chocolates on top of the mound. It stayed for a second and then slid off, taking a few other sweets with it as it fell to the ground.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jack hissed at Chris. “We're here to take, remember?”

Chris looked pale, as if he could not imagine anything worse than what Jack was suggesting. “I don't want to.” Chris's voice was small, just above a whisper but we all heard him. “Got plently already.”

“God! You are such a chicken shit.” Jack spat back.

I noticed his own voice was not very loud. We were all subconsciously lowering our voices.

“What about you?” Jack spun to Vic who was holding a candy bar in his hand, one he had just dug out of his own bag.

“Nah man.” Vic whispered, not looking into Jack's face. “I'm fine, don't want any more.”

“Oh my god!” Jack said, rolling his eyes and neck with exaggerated motion. “I can't believe I'm hanging out with a bunch of pansy asses. I thought you guys were cool.”

I noticed Jack wasn't reaching for anything on his own. It felt to me like he wanted an accomplice, someone to split the blame with him. I dreaded what was inevitably going to be my turn to face his challenge.

“And what about you? Are you full of candy too?” Jack's eyes bore into me like a hot, oil covered drill.

I felt my mouth go dry. The moment I had been waiting for, a chance to show him I wasn't just some snot nosed brat. I could not move. My limbs were frozen and my voice was lost. All I could think about was going home. I did not want to reach for any of this candy. After a few seconds, Jack seemed to catch on that no one was going to rob the grave with him. His face twisted in a sneer.

“Fine!” Jack spat right before his hands hit my chest.

I fell backwards as his shove caught me off guard. The air rushed out of my lungs as my back hit the cold, hard ground. I coughed and began to whine as I tried to breathe in past the block that was suddenly in my core.

“Jeez, Jack…” Chris whispered. “You didn't have to –”

“Oh fuck off, will you?” Jack turned on Chris. “All of you, sissy little bitches! Still believing in this shit! That's fine! More for me!”

I felt cold autumn air fill my lungs as I was finally able to inhale. Hot tears were streaking down my cheeks, smearing the green face paint even worse than the sweat had. I saw Jack shoveling hand fulls of candy out of the concrete bowl and into his pillowcase. It didn't seem real to me. My first out of body experience was happening in this moment. It felt like I was seeing something perverse, a bit like that time I had caught my parents doing… things.

I was regaining my senses, my vision slightly blurred by tears but still clear enough to see Vic toss something into the pile of candy on the ground. Jack had not seen it. I realized then that I had not made an offering from my own bag. I wondered if it even mattered if Jack was going to steal it all anyway. I glanced at my own candy bag, seeing where it had dropped when Jack pushed me. A few pieces had fallen out and I picked up my bag, leaving them laying there. I hoped that counted as leaving an offering, I could not have Jack catching me tossing them into the pile he was looting.

Jack didn't bother with the candy on the ground. He scooped the last few pieces from the bowl and with one more act of malicious intent, shoved the concrete pillar, knocking it and the bowl to the ground. Chris gasped, Vic stopped chewing and I stared at the toppled pillar with shock as if it was a living thing. Jack picked his bulging sack off the ground and hoisted it over his shoulder. He looked every bit like a cartoonish burglar, it might have been funny in any other circumstance.

“Well, are you girls ready to go?” Jack asked as he began to walk away, following the same path we had taken to get here.

The plan had been for all of us to return to our house, where we could post up in the basement and watch cheesy horror movies. We all walked in that direction but when we got to the intersection that led to Vic's house, he turned down his street and walked away from the group without a word. Jack didn't notice, he was staring straight ahead, lost in his own head.

Chris lived two houses down from ours. When we were at his mailbox, he spoke up, the first words uttered by any of us since we left the graveyard.

“So I'm pretty beat. I think I'll just call it a night.”

Jack stopped walking and looked back, looking as if he had forgotten he wasn't alone. His eyes scanned the empty street, finally noticed that Vic was no longer with us. He turned his eyes to Chris, a dark and flat look filling his features.

“Good. Didn't want to hang out with a bunch of chicken shits anyways.”

Jack turned and walked to our house, putting the final nail into the coffin of the friendships he had ruined that night. Chris looked at me, his sweaty face sad but also full of pity. He knew leaving me alone with Jack tonight was sealing my fate as a punching bag. I gave him a shrug and began to follow my brother, keeping my distance.

We walked into our dark, quiet house and did not speak to each other. I should have been relieved that Jack did not start wailing on me but his muted, brooding mood was making me nervous. The small television in the basement was playing horror classics but I was watching him out of the corner of my eye. Jack's sack of candy sat on the floor next to the couch, untouched. I had no appetite for sweets myself so we sat there, motionless and silent as Dracula perched on windowsills and Wolfman terrorized small towns.

A week later, my father strangled Jack in his bed while the rest of us slept. It made national news. The newspapers and television heads replayed the scene over and over again. A deranged father, murdering his son and screaming at the police as they drug him out of our home. I remember those screams. The way he shouted that it wasn't him. He would never do that. What the articles and segments never spoke of was the week leading up to the murder. How we all watched my father battle against the impulse. How he slowly lost his mind until finally, there was nothing left of the man we knew.

Mom and I stayed in the house for a year, just long enough to have it sold. We moved away from that neighborhood but stayed in the same town. She had such a small support system that moving farther away was not possible. She never remarried and I never went trick or treating again. I told her what happened, about what Jack had done that night. It changed her. Mom became paranoid and shunned any and all parts of Halloween. She became more religious, hanging crosses and other Christian symbols around our home.

She made me swear not to ever tell anyone but I wasn't the only one who saw it happen. Word got out and my family became another part of the cautionary tale. A new part of the town curse. We heard the whispers and felt the eyes of people in public. I was moving from middle school into high and was relentlessly reminded of the trouble my family had endured. Everyone knew me as the kid brother of Jack, the latest victim of the town curse.

I survived my childhood and finally was able to escape the infamy, moving away from the town when I went to college. It was refreshing being away from all that superstitious nonsense and if I had had it my way, that would have been the end of it forever. But that's the thing about cursed roots. They dig in deep and no matter how much you grow, everyone is anchored to their past. As it turns out, that town and the evil that lives there was not finished with my family.

My mother got sick, shortly after I married and I was all the family she had left. My wife and I lived in an apartment in a city, not spacious enough to accommodate another tenant. We moved back, swearing it would just be long enough to find a new place and move mom away with us. Years passed and we settled in, having a daughter in the same hospital I was born in. We got comfortable, built lives within the community and even when my mother passed, we stayed.

I should have never come back to this god dammed place.

To be continued...