Trick or Threat

Renee gazes at the live feed from their doorbell, her knuckles white on her phone...

She watches the trick-or-treaters-- a witch, and a firefighter. They look to be about 6 and 7 respectively.

The children reach into the bowl of candy she and Marcus left behind, each taking a generous handful.

Then they turn and walk back down her driveway.

... Away from her home and away from her daughter.

The video is grainy, but Renee can't see any parents with those kids.

She can't understand how any parent would let their kids wander around in the dark alone like that.

Still, seeing them walk away from her home, Renee breathes a sigh of relief and slides the phone back in her pocket.

Marcus places a gentle touch upon her arm. "Babe. Are you gonna watch that damn thing every single time it dings?"

She scowls at him. "I have a really bad feeling, Marcus. I don't like Rachel being home alone tonight, of all nights."

"What the hell do you mean, 'tonight of all nights'? Please don't tell me you're superstitious or some shit. It's just a silly holiday for dress-up and candy. I know you're not one of those people who thinks that demons and the damned return to walk the earth on Halloween night. Please tell me that's not you!"

"No, I'm not superstitious. I just have a bad feeling. Not about ghosts. But... what about..."

Marcus sighs. "What about what? What exactly do you think is gonna happen?"

She shrugs. "I don't know! I just... I just. The world's not safe. There are people out there who get off on causing pain. On hurting people. And this night, of all nights, brings out the fuck-ups. This night brings out the human monsters-- the ones who think violence is just a good bit of mischief. Don't you remember that thing in the news last year about those high school kids who dressed up in Halloween masks and jumped that old lady when she answered the door upstate? They killed her. Beat her to death. When they got caught the ringleader laughed about it like it was a game."

He nodded. "I remember, but that's one in a million Renee. The vast majority of people aren't that fucked in the head. The media reports on the outliers. For every asshole like those kids, there are literally hundreds of millions of people who'd never."

She held his gaze. "I read an article last week about a woman in some online hate-group-- cyber terrorists I guess-- who used online bullying, hacking, and blackmail to get some kid to kill his pet hamster."

Marcus frowns. "Jesus Renee. What the fuck."

She swallows and looks him in the eye. "Yeah. I know."

"Well, why in the hell would you read that shit?"

She shakes her head. "Can't look away from those kinds of headlines. It's like watching a trainwreck. But our species is what's running off the rails. Anyway, the investigation caught her-- she was bragging about it on her social media. This fucking bitch confessed to the arresting officers that her plan was to get this kid to smother his baby sister on Halloween night. Can you imagine? People like her exist. Heartless, evil people like her. The group she's a part of-- I can't remember the name-- they challenge each other to get random kids to hurt themselves... or others."

Marcus grimaces. "Okay, yeah. That's.... really messed up. But it doesn't have anything to do with Rachel. She knows to avoid chatting with strangers online. I've talked with her about internet safety. No personal info. No video. No contact with people she doesn't know in real life. All her accounts are private."

Renee shudders. "I know. But that's not my point. My point is people like that fucking psychotic woman actually exist. They could be anywhere. What if someone like her-- someone who gets some sick satisfaction from hurting people-- tries to go after Renee while she's all alone? What if someone like that woman convinces one of our neighbors' kids to get a knife and try to stab our daughter. Or to get their daddy's gun and shoot our girl?"

"Renee, stop. Come on. You can't go through life thinking like this. Assuming and fixating on the worst, that's gonna paralyze you, for sure. Look. Our door is locked. Rachel knows not to open it. She knows how to call 911 if anything crazy happens. And come on, Renee, she's been home alone dozens of times. Tonight is no different."

Her phone chimes.

She looks at her husband.

He shakes his head. "Leave it. Seriously, make the break, or you'll end up letting your anxiety hold you forever."

She pulls the phone out of her pocket and watches the feed.

A handful of superheroes. Each kid grabs a couple handfuls of candy, and the littlest one says, "hey, the bowls empty! You guys that's not fair. You both took too much-- lemme have some!"

Renee watches them walk away from her home, their argument fading into the dark.

She feels a powerful sense of relief wash over her-- not only from seeing those kids walk away, but also from knowing the candy is spent.

She can put an end to trick-or-treaters, and the doorbell triggering her anxiety.

She can get back to their office party.

But first, Renee calls her daughter.

***

Rachel's phone buzzes. She pauses her TV show and sighs.

Her mother, calling again.

Come on!

She wasn’t an idiot.

Don't open the door for anyone... keep the windows shut and locked... keep your phone charged... keep it near....

Rachel already knew all that. She didn’t need to be told. Again.

“I’m fine mom. PLEASE STOP. Okay, yes I promise."

She rolls her eyes. "Really? Word for word. Okay, fine: I promise to leave the door shut and locked no matter what. No, I won't even open it to refill the candy bowl. OMG mom, Yes I PROMISE!!! What else do you need to hear?!?!”

She wants to hang up on her mother. Every fiber of her being wants that-- but she knew she doesn't want the hellstorm that would follow. So she uses the trick she has always used:

"Mom, can I talk to daddy real quick?"

***

"Yeah pumpkin-- I know."

Then he turns away from his wife and lowers his voice. "I get that, but she can't help worrying. That's a mother's job. And you know what, it's a father's job too. I know you don't wanna feel babied, but knowing you're staying inside and safe puts my mind at ease. No. I actually agree with your mother on that, don't refill the bowl. So a couple kids might be disappointed to get a few less pieces of candy. It's Halloween, they'll get plenty elsewhere. Don't let it be your problem, the bowl's empty, trick-or-treaters can just hop to the next house down the line. Okay pumpkin. Love you too. And happy Halloween."

Before he returns the phone to his Renee, he has a moment of inspiration....

Marcus wants his wife to cut loose, just a bit. Just enough to smile and have fun and lose track of her worries.

He knows she'll have a much better time at this party, if she isn't constantly reminded of her fear. So... he discreetly sets it to mute and hands it back to her with a shrug.

"Come on babe, she's a good kid-- she'll be fine. Let's dance."

"Really? Right now? To this song? The fucking Monster Mash?"

He flashes her a winning smile. "Yeah, this is our song."

She raises one eyebrow.

He pulls her close and says, "Atleast it is tonight. Of all nights."

***

Rachel can't even enjoy her damned show.

Seriously, toddlers are outside having fun, but her parents have her locked in prison.

If she ever has kids, she definitely wont embarrass them like this!

She grumbles and gets up to pour herself another glass of fresh apple cider.

Then the doorbell chimes.

She checks the notification on her own phone:

Some kid outside, in a ghostface mask, in the grainy half-light.

The little guy does look kind of creepy. But isn't that the point? Isn't that the fun? Indulging in scares and sweets?

Shit!

She remembers the candy bowl is empty.

Rachel knows she promised not to open the door-- not even to refill the bowl. But she can't help feeling terrible that this kid went through the trouble of dressing up, just to find a candy-less bowl.

Picked clean, already. Kid never stood a chance.

She doesn't want him to leave empty handed.

She sets down her cup of cider and picks up a bag of chocolates and gummies.

But then she hesitates. She could practically hear her mother's nagging, incessant tone: Don't Open That Door Young Lady-- You Swore An OATH!!!!

She doesn't want to disappoint the little boy, but she also doesn't want break a promise to her parents. Even an annoying promise.

She looks at the feed again, and sees the poor kiddo is trick or treating alone. No friends, no parents in sight.

Hard to tell, behind a mask, but he seems almost too young to be out there all alone.

And isn't that the biggest bullshit?

This kids' parents let him trick or treat, outdoors all alone. Meanwhile Rachel's own mother won't even let her crack the door for a second?

Then, her deliberation is interrupted--

The kid at the door speaks, in the sweetest, littlest voice ever: “is anybody home? There’s no more candy in your bowl. But my mom said I can only trick or treat for 15 minutes so I better go try somewhere else before I run out of time.”

Rachel presses the intercom prompt on her phone's feed:

“Wait a sec kid, I've got a strict mom too. I know what it's like. Listen, stay right there and I’ll bring you a whole bag of candy!”

But she hesitates again.

Is she really going to openly disobey her mother? Incur whatever wrath she earns for some random kid?

But then she considers the obvious facts: her mom's been watching the feed non stop. Coming in with her overbearing reminders more or less constantly. But if she's not "reminding" Rachel to keep the door shut now, then she must be having a moment of compassion. Maybe not a full and complete change of heart, but atleast a softening.

Her mom can see the little pipsqueak of a child begging for candy outside their door.

She's not weighing in with her worry because she knows that this little guy is harmless.

And it would actually be really rude of her to refuse this kid a worthwhile haul of candy.

Rachel solidifies her resolve and smiles to herself.

She's doing the right thing.

She walks to the door and furrows her brow.

Wait.

What if her mom is keeping mum, because she's watching and waiting to see if Rachel will keep her word?

What if her mother's silence is a test?

What might be the penalty for failure?

No phone for a week.

Whatever.

She puts her hand on the doorknob...

But then again-- her father asked her to stick to her promise too. Maybe he didn't use those words, but he told her he was worried.

He's not the worrying type.

Maybe she should just play it safe.

Maybe she should just use the intercom to apologize.

Tell the kid they ran out.

Tell the kid to move along.

She glances out the window and sees the little ghostface mask looking up expectantly.

Waiting for the promised bag of candy.

Rachel knows she must break a promise-- either to her mother and father to leave the door shut...

Or to a harmless, innocent child to bring him a big bag of goodies.

She whispers... "Sorry mom. Sorry daddy."

***

When she opens the door the little “kid” knocks the bowl off the little table as he leaps from his knees to his feet.

It shatters on the patio stones, as he unfolds and rises to stand straight and tall, looming over her.

A tremor of fear runs up her spine, as she gazes up at the rising tower of a man in front of her-- he looks down at her, his mask unmoved, and his long black robe a cascade of shadow.

Her mind is stunned.

Uncomprehending.

The change is too much to grapple with.

She cannot believe that this is happening.

She cannot believe that a whole adult could crunch himself down to the size and image of a harmless little boy.

She cannot BELIEVE that this is happening.

She cannot believe that her mother was right.

She tries to slam the door but he is faster.

***

Renee and Marcus have both loosened up by now, they're laughing with friends.

Marcus had even convinced her to have a drink or two. So she's tipsy.

But he's the driver-- not only for them, but for the friends who carpooled with them.

After her laughter subsides, Renee sighs. "Marcus, it's getting late. We really should be getting home."

Then a flicker of thought shadows her smile. "Marcus... My phone hasn't gone off in, like.... 3 hours."

His smile tries to fade but he plasters it back in place.

He knows the sick sense of worry in his gut is not rational or necessary.

He knows Rachel is fine.

He knows the fear that's gripping his insides right now is stupid and silly, and probably just some contagious psychology. He picked up on his wife's mood of worry-- absorbed some of her anxiety like a contagious yawn.

But that stupid, silly fear... it must have shown in his eyes, without him wanting it to.

Because Renee suddenly looks quite sober.

"Why didn't my phone go off. Marcus. Why didn't my phone go off. It must be broken. Marcus."

She pulls the phone out of her pocket and immediately opens the feed.

There's nothing to see.

Then, on second glance she sees the bowl's been knocked down.

It's in pieces.

She tells herself it must have been the wind.

Or some kid who was mad about there being no candy.

She tells herself the nauseating fear that's ballooning in her stomach is stupid... and silly.

But her mouth is dry and it takes more effort than it should to speak.

She doesn't say that she can just tell something's wrong. Because she doesn't have the courage to admit such a thought.

So she stammers through paper lips: "I'll just call Rachel, to let her know we'll be home soon."

***

When she hears the other end pick up, she lets out a wracking gasp--almost a sob-- of relief. "Baby??? Oh thank God I just had a terrible feeling that... Well. I'm glad you're okay. Your father and I are on our way home. See you in about 30 minutes. Rachel? Are you there? Say something."

Then she hears the sweetest, littlest voice-- almost bubbling over with childlike mirth. But it's wrong, uncanny and it's NOT her daughter: "Rachel? Is that her name? She doesn't look like a Rachel. Especially now. I came to trick or treat but you people ran out of candy. Are you there? Say something..."

***

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Author's note: if this story and the images seem familiar too you, it's entirely possible you read my first take on this theme! This iteration is a rewrite and expansion, of a story I posted last year, for a previous vocal challenge around Halloween.

Vocal had prompted us to write short horror stories that began with the line "There was only one rule. Don't open the door." I loved that prompt and I love microfiction, so I ended up banging out and posting a ton of short stories into that challenge. In fact, I think that was my favorite vocal challenge to date :)

I didn't do very well in terms of the contest, I don't think any of my entries placed. But I did very well in terms of having fun and feeling happy with my work! I really enjoyed writing those pieces, and some readers enjoyed them too, and really that's plenty reward for any artist.

Still.

I always felt that one entry in particular could have used a little more flesh and depth. Partly because I'd put a disproportionately huge effort into the pictures lol. As a writer, it felt very weird to put more raw time into the accompanying photographs than I had into the wording and storycrafting.

But back then I was only allowed to write so much-- the challenge had a hard 300 word limit.

So this felt like a chance to rebalance the scales between the effort I put inot the photographs and the comparatively short amount of time I put into the writing.

Also, rewriting that old story really reminded me of all the fun I had writing and sharing those micro horrors back then :)

Hope everybody had a fun and safe spooky season.

If you'd like to compare this rewrite to my original, here's the link: