Halloween Story

The graveyard, with it’s eerie granite markers positioned strategically, perhaps as pawns upon a morbid chess board. The black wrought iron gate surrounded the eternal resting place as a prison, allowing no entrance or escape. The night chill crisp in the air, while the scent of Autumn leaves perfumed; a brilliant full moon eluded vision, hiding behind ominous gray clouds.

The festive activities, courtesy of the PTA and Town Hall, were being held at the local elementary school. A Halloween Festival, fun and games meant to entertain, bobbing for apples, treats handed out, cider and scary stories; all supervised by volunteering parents. It was thought this was the best way to celebrate Halloween, focusing on the safety of the children. However, anyone who could remember the events of fifteen years ago, had different ideas.

The strange deaths were written as memorials in the daily paper, loving thoughts from the families whom would never forget. Four teens perhaps on a dare, or maybe lured by curiosity lent to the mystery. Scaling the eight foot iron fence, to walk among the dead the bewitching night of all Hallows Eve. Gossip eluded they were members of a satanic cult, some say they were holding a séance waking evil spirits. Most of the rational town folk, figured they were curious kids looking for adventure. A night of scary fun that turned terribly tragic.

They found the bodies scattered through the graveyard, all appeared to die of fright, as no other medical reason could be discovered. All had died of acute asphyxiation, and cardiac arrest, these were kids aged 14 and 15..

The police found four flashlights, several soda cans, candy wrappers, remains of a night of trick or treating, and oddly unexplainable, a white rose gripped in the hands of each child. The case was never solved, but the stories were whispered broadly. The favorite being a fabled lore, remembered by Hattie McCord, a respected member of society, living in town when the crime occurred.

The night of trick or treating, left James Morgan, Shelly Tanner, Mark, and his twin brother Frank Jones, bored and restless. Kicking tin cans down by the rail yard, a meeting place for teens to escape the uneventful routines of an ordinary small town. They were too young for the Halloween dance, held at the Local Elks Club. Too old for the school party, mostly just elementary kids attended them. James pulled out a couple cigarettes he’d stolen from his father. Lighting one he took a drag and passed it on, coughing slightly. Shelly shook her head, she hated smoking, it made her clothes smell terrible.

“Sissy….you gotta try it some time Shelly,” James tried to goad her into taking a drag. Mark took it readily, he wasn’t able to get any from his dad, to share. “She aint gotta, it’s okay Shelly, I like girls who don’t smoke,” he winked; it was no secret Mark had a huge crush on Shelly. Frank elbowed Mark, stealing the smoke taking his turn, “God Mark, you want us to leave you two alone huh?” Frank teased, with James chuckling along with him.

“So…what do you guys want to do? I’m bored as Hell, aren’t you?” James initiated the usual conversation. It would lead to telling jokes, or a trip downtown soaping store windows. Sometimes they would steal empty beer cases, behind the local bar. They would bring them back to the yard and chuck rocks at the glass bottles; seeing who could break the most. “I don’t know, something different…it is Halloween,” Frank chimed and the others nodded.

“We could egg the High School,” James suggested, which got swiftly rebutted. “No….we’d get caught, and my mom would kill me. Then I’d never be allowed out,” Shelly replied sternly.

“Let’s visit the graveyard…an tell ghost stories,” Frank’s eyes gleamed loving the idea. Mark glanced at Shelly wondering what she’d say, he wouldn’t back down in front of Frank and James, he only hoped Shelly was brave enough to come along.

“You can go whenever you want….so we’re doing this?” Frank inquired sounding pleased. Mark and Shelly nodded, and the four made quick plans to meet in a half hour in front of the graveyard at the edge of town.

The four kids, made a quick trip home, grabbing goodies, sodas, and jackets incase the weather got colder, as it was a normal fall night. Each of them remembered to grab a flashlight, and all met exactly a half hour later, at the graveyard gate. The cold steel of the iron gate, sent an icy chill throughout Shelly’s body as she attempted to scale it’s rails.

Mark was waiting at the top, holding his hand out to help her. Shelly swung her leg over the pointed posts catching the edge of her jeans, tearing a small rip up the leg seam. “Oh darn, mom will be pissed,” Shelly groaned, as she dropped with the others, on the other side of the fence. “Didn’t scratch yourself did you?” Mark was always concerned for Shelly. Shelly shook her head, smiling it was nice having Mark care.

“Come on, lets get going I want us settled before dark,” always barking orders, James started along the path toward the back of the graveyard.. The four teens tried not to step on any actual graves, it was a bit unnerving even for Frank, and he suggested it. There was a huge Maple tree, most of it’s leaves shed, it looked lonely and foreboding against the clear night sky. The moon was full, of course, and the air was cold, they could see the clouds emitted by their breaths. Settling beneath the tree, they all broke out their goodies and sodas, quenching their thirsts, and pang of hunger before beginning their tales of horror.

The night grew colder, and darker with each frightening tale. “….they waited breathlessly until…….” there was a resounding bang, as Frank popped his paper bag at just the right time, making the others jump in fright. Frank laughed hysterically, loving that he’d managed to scare them all.

“Jesus, Frank, did you have to do that?” Mark cussed, while he tired to control his raging heart, as it thumped out of control. Shelly just shivered rubbing her arms, she’d had quite enough, it was past nine o’ clock too, she was sure of it. “I’m gonna go….it’s gotta be late,” Shelly stated, standing brushing off her jeans, Mark stood next to her, sliding his arm around her shoulder protectively.

“James, she has to go….Come on, I’ll walk you home Shelly.” Mark was a gentleman looking back at Frank, wondering if he intended to stay, or come with them. “Shit, I might as well come along, sorry James….we can go back to the tracks an break some bottles if ya want.” Frank offered a solution to the early dismissal of the spook tales.

“Yeah, I guess….let’s go then, babies, God such a bunch of pussies,” James swore, tossing his soda can upon finishing it. The four kids started back toward the gate along the path. The moon was hiding behind an accumulation of dark storm clouds. The wind had picked up as well swirling, making eerie howling sounds while it whipped amongst the aged tombstones.

“Shit come on, let’s cut across this way, it’s quicker,” motioned James heading off the path; he had only grabbed a flannel shirt and it was much colder now. “Walk on the graves?” Shelly sounded doubtful, reluctant, it didn’t seem right.

“I’m cold, aint you? Come on, they’re dead for Christ’s sake!” James retorted boldly, heading ahead of them. The others glanced at each other shrugged, and followed their designated leader. Half way through the graveyard, James came to a sudden halt, holding up the others as well.

Realizing this, the four quickly shuffled their feet moving quickly off the grave. “Let’s just hurry, maybe he won’t see us,” suggested Frank, taking the lead now in the opposite direction.

“Oh my God….did you see that?” Screamed Shelly, taking a step backward, hiding behind Mark now. “Shit come on….I gotta check this out,” James started toward the grave where they thought they seen the man or whatever it was. Frank grabbed James’ arm holding him back momentarily. “James….what are you thinking, lets just get out of here.”

“No…I’m gonna check it out…come on…I swear I will tell everyone at school you guys are nothing but punks. Now lets see what he was doing at that grave….maybe he was robbing it.” Frank couldn’t argue, and he didn’t want to be called a punk, he motioned for Mark and Shelly to follow them.

Once at the grave, Shelly sighed she’d been right, a dozen beautiful white roses, she reached down and picked one up smelling it. It was real, the fragrance undeniable. “Let’s all take one, that way we can prove we were here,” James suggested grabbing a rose for each of them passing them out.

“I think we should put them back James,” Shelly disagreed feeling somehow this was a mistake. “Look, the one dead aint gonna miss it, and the guy aint here now….so who’s gonna know?” James’ logic always made it senseless to argue.

At that moment, the moon slipped out from behind it’s clouds. The brightness illuminating the entire grave yard, casting long shadows. One of those shadows fell upon the four gripping the white roses, startling them.

One at a time, they looked into the gleaming red eyes of the figure they had seen only moments ago. Gulping surprised, hearts raging in certain fear, the four scattered, each running in a different direction.

Each one kept looking over their shoulders, fearing what was giving chase. Because they were not on the path, they tripped on tree ruts, or smaller stones heaved up over time. Mark separated from Shelly, but was desperately trying to reconnect with her, screaming her name over and over.

Shelly heard Mark screaming for her, but didn’t dare give away her whereabouts, for fear the demon following them would surely find her. Glancing ahead Shelly spied the iron gate, a frightful thought crossed her mind, How will I get over it, Mark helped me before? Shelly turned to cry out for Mark, and felt a cold clammy hand grip her, dragging her down roughly to the ground. Shelly thrashed at air, as it appeared she was being attacked by nothing but an dark shadow. Shelly screamed, as the hand clamped over her mouth and throat, choking her into blackness.

Mark heard Shelly scream, and ran as fast as he could to her. Seeing her laying motionless just yards before the gate, he pulled up, halting to look around. The hair on the back of his neck tingling, Mark suddenly screamed as two hands reached up from the grave he was standing on, pulling him down into the crypt still alive. Mark was hyperventilating, pain squeezed his heart, creating the feeling it would certainly explode. Mark opened his mouth to scream, he tasted moist dirt filling his mouth, and nostrils, not allowing another breath.

Frank, ran wild letting his fears panic him, stumbling over grave markers, crashing into unseen obstacles, tumbling again as his feet tripped over a mound of freshly dug dirt. Down he fell, reaching desperately all he grabbed was air. Landing hard knocked the wind from his lungs, a scream was not forthcoming. Collecting his thoughts, Frank realized it was a fresh dug grave he’d fallen into. The moon shown upon his pale face, then shadowy demons converged. Glowing eyes peered over the mound of dirt, one set then another, and another. No, this can’t be happening. Claw like hands, fingers but skeleton bone, began tossing handfuls of sod. As the dirt covered his face blocking his sight, Frank managed to scream. Instantly he felt a sharp prick, then another as thorns ripped inside of his lip and mouth, while an icy hand shoved the rose down his throat. Frank’s last sensation, was the fragrant scent of that sweet white rose.

James, hurtled the makers, cut across several graves, he constantly looked behind him not seeing anyone giving chase. He’d lost track of everyone else, James’ senses heightened as fear produced adrenaline coursing through his veins. James figured the others had gotten away, and was feeling he would too, cresting a hill, James seen the wrought iron gate. Glancing back once more, James pushed hard running full out toward the gate and his escape. One last marker an easy hurdle; but the marker’s shadow suddenly extended, and James’ leg hug up causing him to toppled over it.

Rolling over the grave, James read the name engraved in the stone…McCord. As the name registered, a chill rushed over his body, and a pair of hands grabbed his legs holding him firm. What the Hell? James turned to his back, and another pair of hands gripped his arms, stretching his body length wise, as James struggled vainly to free himself. Looking toward the dark sky, the moon appeared to cast an evil grin. Then the figure of the man appeared before him, the body merely a shadow. In his hands the remainder of the white roses. “What is this….You are not real!” James squealed.

“ Then why are you afraid?” the eerie voice echoed, “Disrespectful fool, death is too good for you.” Tossing a rose, it turned into a burning rod, searing James’ flesh where it landed. The shadow randomly tossed each rose in turn, listening to James’ screams. The last one placed over his heart, as the flesh burned away, James’ heart withered turning to ash. James’ body was found laying just inside the graveyard, ashes coating his skin.

Hattie McCord smiled and nodded, greeting all the children hurrying to the school and the festival. She walked slowly and deliberately, noticing all the costumes, taking in the perfumed smells of fall leaves, the crisp cool breeze caressed her aging face. In her arms she carried a bouquet of lovely white roses. Each year the same routine, visiting the graveyard of her beloved parents. Along the lane leading to the graveyard, Hattie noticed a group of young teens milling about acting suspicious.

“Um….maybe…we don’t know,” one of the boys answered, he couldn’t be more than 14, Hattie thought. “ Halloween is not the time to visit the graveyard, you run along now ya hear,” Hattie warned, watching as the kids dispersed, moving along heading toward the train yard, things never change.

Hattie placed the array of snow white roses, counting out eight, laying them gently along the Marble headstone. Saying a prayer, she nods and whispers, to no one but the wind. “ Yes daddy I will, I’ll see you next year.”

Hattie then visit’s the graves of each child that died so mysteriously 15 years ago, placing one white rose on each of their headstones, being careful not to step on their graves. “Happy Halloween Children, rest in peace.”