Three sets of sneaker-clad feet slapped the asphalt, running for their lives. They were just leaving Meme’s house and dusk was about to unfurl her milky gray cape upon them. It was Halloween.
Behind these Trick-or-Treaters, and moving much slower, was a shiny black mass waving what appeared to be arms as it stumbled along; obviously unable to see.
Loud growls were emitted as the creature continued its awkward pursuit, and the children began to scream in unison. Finally, the three reached their destination, throwing themselves against their front door as they called out to their mother. “Momma, help! Help! There is something after us.”
Their mother, biting back a smile, opened the door and pulled her children into the house. “Oh, mon Dieu!” she exclaimed. “You kids are too wild for me. What do you see out there? What has you all so afraid?”
She glanced out of the window and watched the sleek, dark figure pull the black plastic sheet over his head and smooth out his short, salt and pepper hair. She could not help but wonder why such a responsible, serious-minded, hard-working man would suddenly cast aside his good sense, throw a black covering over himself, and chase his children home. It was completely out of character, but it was Halloween! And, after all, didn’t we all sometimes need to get just a little crazy?
She now allowed herself that smile as she turned back to her children, gathering them in her arms as she hugged them to her breast. Her floury apron smelled sweet and safe.
Their plastic masks were now perched on their heads, the thin elastic straps cutting into their moist cheeks. Their brown paper bags of candy had not been lost or abandoned; rather, they were held tight against their bodies, crumpled and twisted; rewards for outrunning and outsmarting the monster.
“Look out into the yard,” their mother whispered. “You won’t be afraid anymore.” The youngest child looked past his mother’s shoulder, his eyes ready to tighten with fear. Standing there, just about 10 feet from the door, stood his father. A large, shiny black plastic sheet used for construction lay at his father’s feet.
“It’s just Dad,” the little boy said. His twin brother and older sister peered out of the window, as well. “It is Dad!” his sister shouted, relief in her voice.
The three children pulled their masks back down into place, and ran out the door toward their father. “I knew it was you all along,” the older twin said. “You didn’t fool me for one minute.”
Their father smiled at his children and reached down and picked up the abandoned plastic, smoothing it out and then folding it up in his arms. “Well, kids, that was not one of my brightest ideas,” their father said. “I wanted to give you guys a good scare, but I didn’t even think about how tricky it might be to run up the Van Buren Road with my eyes covered. I couldn’t even see my feet! Promise me you will never try this.”
Everyone broke into laughter as they returned to the warmth and surety of their home where freshly baked oatmeal cookies lay cooling on the kitchen counter, and there were no black goblins lurking in dark corners.
Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives in Connor with her husband, Dale, and their Goldendoodle, Barney Rubble. You may contact Belinda online at dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
