The Candy Man

Candy Man by Amanda Stogsdill

"Judy? Judy? Can you hear me?"

In my dark closet, I stifle giggles, listening as Nancy's footsteps fade down the hallway. Releasing a silent laugh, I emerge from my hiding place.

"There you are! Mom's been holding dinner." Nancy flashes a big grin. "You can't fool me, Judy. I know where you hide."

 Leave it to Nancy to ruin my afternoon! I think. Showing my irritation by ignoring her, we head downstairs to dinner.

Nancy and I are stepsisters. When my parents got divorced when I was little, Mom married my stepdad a year later. I consider him my father.

After dinner, I glance longingly out the curtained window. "Is the moon out yet?" I inquire.

"Not yet. In another hour, we'll check the thermometer." Dad replies.

"I absolutely hate summer!" I cover my face, moaning in self pity.

"Be patient, Judy. As soon as it's dark, Meghan and Harry will play." Nancy replies in her patient voice.

"They don’t  always! I just wish the sun didn't take forever to set." I whine, still hating her for spoiling my privacy that afternoon.

"Not much longer. See?" Mom shows me our thermometer, the numbers are slowly rising to the correct temperature. Pacing around our heavily curtained house, I’m looking forward to that temperature rise.

After twenty minutes, I'm given the go ahead; grabbing my jacket, I fling open our door, and dash outside.

The night is now mine. With the full moon shining brightly, I'm no longer tense. Moonlight is safe!

 That's right, the moon is my friend. Sunlight isn't! Any type of bright light is harmful to my skin, let’s just say it can be deadly. I was born with a rare disorder wich causes my skin to be sensitive to ultra-violet light. Mom noticed a lot of freckles when I was a baby, then red patches appeared whenever I went outside. After Many doctor visits, Mom was finally able to get a diagnosis. Any sun exposure causes red patches on my body which can be fatal.

So our house resembles a fortress. Curtained windows, and special lightbulbs are just my normal. If I go out, I wear special glasses, sunblock and dark clothing. And I’m home schooled.

"Judy. We're here. Mom says we have an hour!" Meghan and Harry appear at my fence, giggling. I sense a surprise coming. Sure enough, a jet of water sprays over my head, cool and refreshing.

"You guys!" I splutter, pushing sopping hair out of my eyes, "Nice one." Tossing a water missel to me, we begin a fast-paced game of water tag. Splat! Mom is pelted with one of our well-aimed bombs. Accidentally, of course. Hooting at her glare, we turn to our swing set.

"Obstacle race!" Meghan immediately moves along the top bar, her brother not far behind.

As we continue, I notice the moon disappearing behind a cloud. Disappointed, I wish for it to return. Out come the flashlights! Beams bounce across our yard, lighting up the darkness, which is now complete.

"What was that?" I hiss, gesturing for quiet.

I turn my head in the direction of the noise. "There!" I point toward the Atkins' house next door. We all hear it this time, a high-pitched sound, long and loud.

"Someone's screaming. Too loud for TV." Harry glances nervously around, as if expecting something to happen.

We lean on our fence, spying on the legendary house.

"Creepy guy, isn't he?" Meghan's flashlight sweeps across its overgrown yard. "We never see him." We nod, still gazing around.

“He’s the Candy Man. And, yes we sometimes see him.” I reply, “Halloween is when his yard is decorated. He gives out those cookies.”

"The rest of the time, he’s Like some weird ghost." Harry whispers, eyes huge.

I frown at him; he knows what that word means to me! Because of my condition, I've been called ghost, vampire girl, night child, and any other insensitive names my neighbors dream up.

Silence. I swear I heard screaming! I'm puzzled.

Before we can figure our next move, we hear, "Meghan, Harry! Time's up." Calling, Mrs. Higgins' porch light flashes on. Grumbling about wanting more time, we go our separate ways.

I have no desire to sleep, however. Still curious, I peer out my window. The Atkins house has always fascinated me, mainly because the guy who lives in it is practically invisible. Or so the story goes. I've often wondered if he's like me, sensitive to any bright light. Is he forced to hide? Did he have to be home schooled when his school refused to accomodate him? Unsurprisingly, I see nothing unusual.

After a day of studying (yes, even in summer), I meet Harry and Meghan in my backyard. Like yesterday, we turn our attention to Mr. Atkins' house. "Still say it sounded like someone screaming!" Harry repeats, face white. His attempts at bravery aren't lost on his sister.

"You scared?" Meghan taunts, "I can touch the Candy Man’s house. Watch me." Confidently, she opens my gate, crossing over to the Forbiden house. Gasping, Harry and I strain to listen; all is quiet. Minutes stretch into eternity as we wait. My heart thumps wildly. I tell myself I'm just being silly, but you never know which stories are true.

"Did it!" Meghan appears behind us, very triumphant, "That wasn't so hard!"

"Did you see anything?" I ask.

"Maybe!" Meghan grins like she's got a secret, "Maybe not.”

"Tell us." Harry implores, "Who's in there?"

"Just the front room. Oh, and an old guy sleeping. Not much light in there. It's not like I went in."

Harry's impressed; I'm thinking there's some truth in those stories, after all. Turning around, I catch Nancy staring at us from her window. Did she see anything?

The next few days are busy. Mom has Nancy and I spring cleaning Literally, the whole house! Why is it moms insist the house needs it? And why clean in places we never use, like the attic or behind furniture? "Everything's dirty. Enough complaining, both of you." Because of that, my nighttime adventures were limited to the porch. Boring!

"What are you guys up to tonight?" Mom asks at breakfast. I shrug, digging into my Wheaties.

"Yeah, why the nighttime strolls?" Dad enters, yawning.

"We just play around our houses." I reply casually. A lie.

"Just be careful, Judy. Don't speak to strangers."

I roll my eyes at her advice. "I know, Mom. Our neighborhood's quiet at night. Very few people pass our houses.”

"Know who you remind me of?" Nancy asks. I'm in bed, she's staring at herself in the mirror. "Scout Finch."

"Who?" I raise myself on my elbows, "Is she a friend?"

"No, she's a book character who tries to get the town recluse to come out, a bit like what you guys are doing to the Atkins guy."

"You told me stories about the Candy Man, remember?"

She nods. "The one where he hid in your closet had you up for weeks!" She grins at the memory.

"Don't worry. Your little game's safe with me." Turning out our light, she flops on to her bed.

"Judy, come on. We're leaving!" Dad's impatient.

"Coming." Rubbing on an extra layer of strong sunblock on the parts of my body not covered up, (hands and face), I meet dad, mom and Judy at the door. Pulling on a jacket with a hood and a protective neck cloth, and gloves, I'm all set. The car is sun-protected, too. Like today, when the temperature is approaching 90 degrees, the smallest amount of sun on my skin can be deadly, causing peeling skin or cancerous bruises.

As we walk through the store, grabbing items off the shelves, Nancy and I do our best to ignore the stares. I'm used to it, but it still irritates me. One girl asks, "Why's she wearing pants, glasses, and long sleeves in summer?" I've given up explaining my condition to our neighbors. They have two stares for me; "poor you" or "You're that weirdo from Mars." I want to shout at them, "You can enjoy yourselves outside. I can't."

After getting in and out of the car for just that one little trip outside, I'm still perspiring under all my protective layers. I long for my cool, dark house, where I can remove everything! Sometimes, I envy kids who can walk around with sunburned skin, not a care in the world!

Pulling into our driveway, I wave to Mrs. Higgins watering her flowers. "You three have fun tonight!" She says as we approach our door. Nancy and I exchange winks.

I’m kept indoors for a few days after my trip outside. “Just to be safe.” Dad reminds me. Examining myself in the mirror, I’m relieved I don’t see any sun exposure spots. Spying from my window, I glimpse my friends shooting hoops in their yard. When speaking to Harry on the phone, he informs me of their latest pranks involving Mr. Atkins. “We pelted his house with water balloons.” He was about to continue, but his mom made him end the call.

A week later, Meghan and Harry flash the lights from their porch. We meet in our yard. We lay off tormenting Mr. Atkins for tonight. Moving between our yards we swim in their sun-protected pool, swing, and play basketball. As usual, after about an hour and a half, Meghan and Harry are called in.

A few nights later, with the moon hanging low in the sky, Mr. Atkins is once more discussed. "His light's on, I see." Harry reports, "Let's go over."

What? Just walk up in his yard like we live there? "No. Let's stop teasing him. Maybe he's just a loner." I say.

"What's the matter? Scared." Meghan tosses her head defiantly, "You can watch then."

Holding my breath, I stand right at the edge of his yard, torn between horror and fascination. Like I said, Halloween is the only time of year when his yard seemed to be open to us kids. Heart thumping, my flashlight beam follows my friends as they silently make their way through his weed-choked yard, heading for the gloomy house.

"Get lost, kids." A gruff voice growls from the porch. A blinding light comes on out of nowhere. Petrified, I stand frozen, like a deer caught in a car's headlights. What was I thinking? How stupid was I to think nothing would go wrong this time? "Didn't you hear me? Get the hell out of my yard." Rising to his full height, a tall man stalks toward us, like some enormous tree come to life. By my flashlight, I see a lean body with powerful shoulders. His eyes are narrowed into angry slits.

That does it; we start to run out of there like we're being chased. "Sorry." I call over my shoulder, but I'm not sure he can hear me. Harry's mouth is open, Meghan's eyes are round like full moons.

 "Wait, I want to speak with your parents. Let's go." Coming forward, he more or less pushes us out of his yard, back into mine. Knees trembling, I barely make it to my door without collapsing into a frightened puddle. Mr. Atkins knocks.

"Yes." Nancy opens the door, then recognizing him, steps back.

"Are your parents at home?" She nods, and yells for Mom, smiling in a satisfied way.

"Who is it?" Mom blinks, seeing our neighbor with us. "What's going on?" Her tone is sharp, voice a little demanding.

After explaining, we're hustled into the house, and Mr. Atkins quietly returns to his.

"What were you thinking? Especially you, Judy. I'd hope you'd have more sense!"

"You sneaked around his yard? "Is that correct?"

We nod mutely. I should have known our secret wouldn't last.

"Did it even occur to you that the proper thing to do was ring the bell or knock on his door?" Dad appears, voice quiet; I wish he'd just shout and get it over with. Sheepishly, we admit that plan hadn't entered our heads.

"Hmmph." Mom's disgusted. Shamefaced, we stare at the patterned carpet, me silently awaiting my punishment.

A knock interrupts my gloomy thoughts. Gleefully, Nancy answers it. "What on earth happened?" Mr. and Mrs. Higgins rush in, anxiety and fear written on their faces. "We had a visit from Mr. Atkins too. Are you hurt?" Once again, we explain everything in detail. Harry and Meghan admitted they accidentally broke one of his windows playing baseball. I recall that phone conversation with Harry. "Come home immediately. No more nighttime wanderings!" Snatching the hand of a child each, they stride from our living room.

"You, young lady will remain in the house until we say otherwise." Mom informs me later on.

"Mom, I'm stuck inside anyway! Not exactly a punishment, you know!" I roll my eyes, exasperated.

As it turns out, my punishment is writing an apology letter, and doing extra chores Meghan, Harry and I aren't allowed to speak to each other. They have to do yardwork and other errands for Mr. Atkins to pay for the broken window.

A week later, we're eating lunch when there's a knock at our door. "Come in!" Mom appears with Mr. Atkins. His appearance is less threatening and frightening in the daylight. "Didn't mean to scare you, young lady." He says, smiling. "To tell you the truth, you and your friends startled me, creeping up around my house like that."

I apologize again. I decide to come clean. "We heard a loud scream a few nights ago. That's what startted the whole thing."

Mr. Atkins face relaxed into a smile. "Oh that. You heard my stereo."

"That's all. It was awfully loud." I bit my tongue, but too late.

"I know. I was testing something for Halloween." He chuckles. "Many children do come around my house then."

"I know." All the same, I felt silly; all that planning and snooping for trick-or-treating!

With that mystery solved, I eagerly anticipate another one, if and when our parents allow us our freedom again. Staring out my window at the cloudy, moonless sky, I grin, awaiting our next adventure.

The End