The Little Ones

Not many of us are left in the small town of Bramble, but the few who remain know what needs to be done each Halloween. The Little Ones will be coming by for their treats, and we have to be ready.

The preparations aren’t too different from what you might expect in any other town. Each house is decorated in a festive yet unsettling way. Impossibly large spiders crawl up the walls, jack-o-lanterns grin in glowing candlelight, and skeletons line the yards. All of us get extra-large bowls of candy and set them by the door when the sun begins to set.

We live right on the edge of Black Nettle Forest, and it’s a world of its own. No one goes inside. When you walk up to the trees, you begin to feel sick when you smell the stench. Your hair stands on end, your muscles tense up, and you are filled with a heavy dread. A repulsion sets in that you feel in the pit of your stomach. With each step closer, you are pushed back, as if repelled by a force field. We’ve all experienced it once, and that’s all you need to understand. There is an unspoken agreement in our town to leave the forest alone, and so we do. But it doesn’t leave us alone.

Throughout the year, the large trees remain eerily still and darkness emanates from the large clearing. Light can’t penetrate through the shaded boughs in a hauntingly unnatural way. The woodland wall looms silently over all of us for most of the year, like a tall cloaked figure breathing down your neck. However, on one night each year, the trees begin to rustle. As the moon rises, everyone shares a collective chill while the branches sway back and forth. It looks like the wind is blowing with the promise of a coming thunderstorm. Each Halloween, the trees shake and swirl in a rhythmic motion. Every family looks on from their doorstep and awaits the events of the night. Then just as suddenly as it started, the shaking stops. The trees are still. The town is silent. The Little Ones are coming.

“Keep your costumes on and don’t make any sudden moves. And make sure the kids are locked in their room,” I say to my wife. Our family has made it through many years of this, and we intend to do so again. We don’t let our children out on this night. Unlike most places, this isn’t a night of fun and celebration. It is a night of solemn ceremony, a night of duty. It’s survival. The kids will be anywhere but outside, and they certainly won’t be getting candy.

Every adult in Bramble stands in front of their house and looks toward the forest. A minute or so passes, and then it begins. The Little Ones pour out from the black clearing in the distance. Their white figures stand in stark contrast to the darkness they emerge from. Each of them is between three and four feet tall; some slender and others plump. They appear to have a white sheet over their entire bodies, with two small eye holes that reveal nothing but a dark void inside. Each of them carries a small sack in their rounded cloth hands. Their movement is slow and clumsy, toddling like a small child would, but never falling.

Some are alone, others are in groups. They amble towards the town in larger and larger numbers as the night grows darker. The air takes on a distinct chill, as if the temperature drops with each step they take forward. The crowd of them fills the town until every door in sight has a line of eager childlike creatures in front of it. We all have a painful smile on our faces as we greet them and prepare to endure the evening.

The first one comes to my door with a line of others close behind. I grab the large bowl of candy and take a handful. The Little One raises a small bag above its sheeted head and holds it aloft, maintaining a completely motionless posture. I cautiously drop the pieces into the bag, and the creature stays unmoving. I swallow nervously and keep smiling, the corner of my mouth starting to twitch. I feel the weight of executing everything flawlessly, down to the smallest detail. It stands in front of me with cloth arms raised for a few more seconds. Then a few more. The pause is so uncomfortable that I start to reach for more candy. At that moment, it lowers its bag and idles on my doorstep. I hold my grin, and it stays unmoving. Then, it tilts its little head up. It stares intently at me with its black hole eyes, but all I see is a dark abyss. What could it possibly be thinking? It spins around, saunters off the porch, and I finally take a normal breath.

The next one strides forward. I briefly look back at my wife, who offers a sad smile and a reassuring look that says she’s supporting me. I turn to face the next one and wait for the same process to start. It raises its cloth arms with the bag in hand, I put a small handful of candy in it, and it lingers for an uncomfortably long time. Same as the first, it eventually lowers its bag and drifts away. Only a few more hours of this to go, and we would be safe.

The moon is higher in the sky now. The night is cold and still, and as I look around at our neighbors I see more and more strained smiles that are beginning to weaken. Tonight requires endurance, and I hope that we’re all up to the task like we have been in years past. It’s hard to say how much time has passed, but we are all hoping to stay vigilant to the end.

This has been going on for as long as any of us can remember. In fact, our town may be the origin of Halloween as it’s known today. We can’t say exactly how or when it started, but we do know that we have an obligation to uphold this tradition. Our town stands as the bastion between our world and theirs. Our parents and grandparents have sacrificed so much to protect us, and the places beyond ours. Some of our ancestors have even given up themselves for the cause. With time and dedication they learned the rituals of Little Ones, but not without mistakes along the way. Costly errors in the ceremony demanded that we give up one of our own as a penalty. Forgetting to smile in reverence, running out of candy offerings, not adorning the house properly – these are unacceptable. The losses were tragic, but the reward was the knowledge that we have today. If everything is perfect, the Little Ones will be satisfied for another year.

The next Little One comes towards the door, and I feel my cheeks starting to ache. It raises its sack above its head and waits just like the others. I grab a fistful of candy and reach towards its bag, but one piece begins to slip through my fingers. My body reacts involuntarily and I reach to catch the falling treat. The pieces slide and fall into the sack, except for one that teeters on the edge for a brief moment before plummeting to the porch. The Little One immediately lowers its sack and tilts its head to the side. In shock, I frown for a brief second at my mistake. I had broken the façade. Somehow the neighborhood is so silent that the candy falling is like a clap of thunder. I see the neighbors shoot a terrified glance in our direction. Every Little One, in unison, stops what they are doing and turns to face me with their deep, soulless eye holes. Hundreds of sheet-covered creatures are staring at our house.

“Grab the kids,” I say sharply to my wife. The crowd begins to form around our porch as the sheet creatures close in. I stare into the abyss-like eyes of the Little One directly in front of me and attempt to plead telepathically for some sort of forgiveness. The circle grows larger and larger around our house as panic and adrenaline take over. The Little One drops its bag to the ground and looks up at me. It motions its round hand in my direction, but I can tell that it’s pointing to the room behind me.

“No, please!” I shout. I block the doorway with my arms and legs sprawled out to prevent it from coming in. It glides forward and passes through me effortlessly. It makes its way down the hall as my wife holds our two daughters crying. It approaches them with silent determination. It sharply turns to our youngest daughter and raises its arms. My wife and other daughter are pushed back, both screaming. I watch as it floats towards my youngest, staring intently at her. In a swift movement, it wraps its sheet body around her and engulfs her completely.

“NO!” we all scream in horror. Tears begin to stream down our faces. The Little One has claimed one of ours.

Suddenly, we hear the crinkling of plastic wrappers hitting the ground outside. Our next door neighbor has dumped out their candy bowl in the yard. We stifle our sobs and turn our attention outward. The horde of Little Ones turn around in unison once more, this time facing the house next to ours. They don’t move from their spot this time. There is silence.

Another neighbor across the way dumps their bowl in the yard. Further down, another neighbor does the same. And another. And another. Soon our whole town is dumping candy onto the ground in front of their houses. The Little Ones spin left and right, whipping their bodies around to face each pile of treats that fall. They had never faced such defiance. We had never been so bold.

The creature inside our house releases our daughter, sending her falling to the ground. My wife rushes to grab her. The Little One quickly sprints back out of our house and dashes through the mob of others. They all begin trembling, black eyes facing outward and huddled together.

All of our neighbors stand silently waiting to see what will happen. The Little One scoops up the sack it had dropped, darts through the crowd and runs towards the nearest pile of candy. It jumps on the mound and begins furiously scooping up handfuls of candy into its bag. The others look on, trembling. They shake more and more violently with ravenous anticipation. In an instant, another one dashes out onto a nearby candy pile. Then another, and another. Our town becomes a frenzy of Little Ones scrambling to fill their bags with as many treats as possible.

With the chaos unfolding before our eyes, adults and children alike are now on their porches watching completely dumbstruck. Never before had any of us seen such pandemonium on this night. We didn’t even dream this could be possible. Generation after generation, we accepted the fact that the Little Ones would take our friends and family from us if we didn’t serve them perfectly. Now they are showing their first sign of weakness.

The Little Ones pile on top of each other, pushing, pulling, and tussling wildly to grab the candy. Although they remain immaterial to us, they are clearly able to physically harm each other. High-pitched squeals erupt from every direction as they pummel and trample one another. The crinkling candy wrappers fly in scattered bursts around the yards. Minutes pass by as the candy is being torn to shreds and the sounds of turmoil echo through the air.

Suddenly, the ground rumbles. The air becomes icy as a wind blows through the town. Immediately, the Little Ones stop what they’re doing. All of us look up and see the trees of Black Nettle Forest swaying once more. This time, it’s not the usual breeze. A strong gale sweeps through the foliage, violently shaking the branches as if they were in a hurricane. The trees lunge forward, then back. Forward, then back. It’s as if the forest is admonishing its children, waving and beckoning them back home. They had misbehaved during the ritual, and it would not be tolerated. The black clearing opens wide and emits a low, angry groan.

The Little Ones tremble once more. They stand up, seemingly fearful of the punishment that awaits them. With heads hanging low, they turn to face towards the forest. The wind picks up fiercely and tears through the town. It sweeps up one of the creatures and sends it flailing back into the trees, spilling its candy everywhere. Another is taken up by the gale and flies into the distance with a shrill squeak. The rest of them make a desperate attempt to grab any candy they can before being sucked into the black maw of the forest. Sheet after sheet disappears from sight, until none are left. The forest clearing closes, and the wind stops. Silence.

All of our neighbors look across to each other, astonished. I gather my family into my arms and hold them tightly. Hardly another moment passes before the residents of Bramble erupt into loud cheers and celebration. A mess of candy is sprawled across every inch of the ground, but it doesn’t matter. We succeeded. They had been summoned back into their own realm once more, but this time completely defeated. Who can say whether or not they will come back again next year, but now we stand a chance. Next Halloween, we can fight back.