Wretched

As I closed the door and turned around, I took in my surroundings. I appeared to be in some sort of manor house entrance hall. The place was lit up with Jack-o-lanterns and candles and an assortment of gothic decorations, such as black silk ribbons and velvet covers, adorned every surface. I noticed that my attire matched the surroundings well too, as I wore a black, silk set of pyjamas with a velvet trim and woollen slippers. Confusingly, these were not my clothes, nor was this my house. After getting my bearings, I took to exploring the manor. I went to try and open the doors along the narrow corridor to the left of the stairs, but to my frustration, they were all locked.

As I turned back and was about to scale the stairs, a large set of double doors adjacent to me, that I had not noticed previously, swung open. I stepped into the newly opened room and discovered a lavishly furnished living room. The room contained a large dining table with two unlist candelabras in the centre with a frilled white tablecloth resting underneath. The room had no seating other than a single leather reclining armchair. As I sat down I noticed the small CRT television on a wooden chest. I reluctantly got back onto my feet and knelt down like a child in front of the set, twisting the knob to try and find a channel. My efforts were fruitless as each channel only produced static. I checked if the antenna of the television was connected to the set, but upon looking behind the box I discovered no plug sockets or wires to speak of. Before I had a chance to question anything going on, there was a knock at the front door. I got to my feet and looked out through the bay window, only to see a vast expanse of nothing. Leaning around to look at the front door I couldn’t see anyone, yet the bell rang again.

I walked up to the door and apprehensively gripped the handle, twisting it and pulling it towards me to reveal a child stood in a Halloween costume. The child was no older than five and wore a wooden mask adorned with black curves carved out into a jagged smile with deep circular eyes. The rest of their costume, if you could call it that, was just a white sheet draped over their torso. He held their arms outstretched, a pillowcase grasped between their brittle fingers.

“Trick or treating, huh?” I asked the child uneasily, gaining no acknowledgement or response from them.

“And just what are you supposed to be?” I questioned, this time getting a short, throaty cough in response.

Now confused, I looked to my side and found a Jack-o-lantern filled with candy. I leant over and picked up two pieces at random, that just so happened to be two individually wrapped hard candy and dropped them into their bag.

“There you go little...buddy,” I said as their carved out eyes followed the candy down into the bag and then slowly turned their attention back to me.

They stared deep into my eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time before the tension was broken as they began to cough; the severity of their coughing getting louder and more desperate with every second. I felt locked in place, watching this child peer into my very soul as black liquid began to spill out from under the mask coagulating down their front and seeping its way across the floor towards me.

I slammed the door and pushed my back up against it.

“What the hell is going on?” I whispered to myself, as a grandfather clock that had suddenly appeared in the entrance hall rang loudly. I sat petrified, as each toll of the bell brought with it drafts of wind that slowly blew out each candle and Jack-o-lantern in the house, plunging it into darkness, leaving one solitary flame at the top of the stairs. Then, he arrived.

First came the clapping. The condescending nature of his applause confused me somewhat as his frame came into view over the bannister from the upstairs landing, washed in candleglow. He was skinny and tall, unnaturally so, with a rich vermillion suit stretched over his narrow frame; a black-tie hanging tightly at his neck. His face was that of a human: Slender with a thin beard that lined his chin and a nose that seemed sharpened to a point. His eyes were masked by a pair of thick sunglasses and his jet black hair stayed gelled and slicked back on his head. A sinister grin, displaying rows of serrated teeth, crept over his face as he contracted all of his limbs into a frog-like position before leaping from the banister and landing with a tap onto the wooden floor. His head faced downwards and his arms were stretched out, as if he expected some kind of applause before contorting his body like a tornado and shooting his attention towards me.

“Messed it up again have we?” he said in a deep, raspy and condescending tone as he walked over to the bowl of candy.

“Y’know I thought that you were going to nail it this time, but now it’s clear that you’re completely inept” he announced as he reached into the bowl and pulled out a piece of taffy, chewing on it as he spoke.

“I...I don’t understand,” I said as I monitored his mannerisms, noticing that he swayed slightly as he stood, seeming clumsy and unstable.

“Of course you don’t,” He said as he slinked into the living room, presumably expecting me to follow.

“So, what you’re telling me is that I’ve been here before?” I asked him as he vaulted over the armchair and landed with an emphatic sigh.

“Well done, they’ve got it! But do you know why you’re here?” the Lanky Man asked as his head turned right around to face me behind the armchair, his body following suit as he gripped the back of the chair with his slender fingers.

“I-I feel like I’m dreaming,” I said as I began pinching myself, unable to feel the sensation. “I’m dreaming! I’m just dreaming!” I yelled as I closed my eyes tightly to wake myself up.

“So close yet so far,” the Lanky Man said as I opened my eyes to find him inches from my face, grinning with malevolence.

“Why can’t I wake up?” I asked, hoping that I was going to like the answer that he gave me.

“Because you need to serve your punishment,” he said as he placed a hand on my shoulder, gripping it. This time, I felt it. His fingers dug into my collar, drawing blood that soaked into my shirt and made me scream out in pain.

“If you haven’t worked it out by now, this is a haunting.” the Lanky Man said as he began to walk and I was forced to follow him.

He took me back to the door and as it swung open the same child that had stood there before had come back again, this time however his bag of candy was nowhere in sight.

“Recognise him?” the Lanky Man asked as he pulled the wooden mask off of the child’s face to reveal, to my horror, a face that I did indeed recognise.

“Billy?” I said as I gazed upon the face of the only child young enough to still trick-or-treat from my cul-de-sac. His formerly rosy cheeks and pale face was now replaced with a deep blue. His eyes rolled back into his skull, tear stains remaining on his cheeks and red marks were present beneath his eyes and mouth. He opened his mouth to smile, which allowed the black liquid to pour out again, showing off his dark stained teeth.

“Yes! Sweet little Billy, long gone by now. Now, what made you think that giving a five-year old hard candy was a good idea?” the Lanky Man said, as he slapped the boy’s back as the two candies came flying out of his mouth and landed at my feet.

“I-I didn’t think…” I said as I fell to my knees in front of the child, who once again extended his hands.

“That’s the thing though isn’t it, people don’t think.” the Lanky Man said as he began to climb back up the stairs “but people don’t get a second chance with this kind of thing.”

I turned and watched him clack over the top of the bannister.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He asked, “next time I’m sure you’ll get it.”

As he said this my hand was grabbed by the young boy. Not in a violent way, it seemed almost hopeful.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll get it this time,” the boy said as I got to my feet and he led me through the door. I turned back and grasped the handle pulling it towards me.