The Feast

By the time they knew how easily they’d been sucked in, it was too late.

“Sick, dude,” Jaxon had drawled, as the stranger sloped past their spot, at the edge of a fright of goblins, hot witches and far too many Freddys. 

The skin tight, puke green onesie wasn’t that rad, but how had they got the ridges to stand out from the hollows like 3-D. And what about the whole scales vibe? It made the rest of the teenage trick-or-treaters look like newbies in the All Hallows’ Hall of Fame. The pair had dominated the competition for years. Joely sometimes wondered if Halloween was the only thing keeping them together, apart from the assonance of their names. Jaxon had turned into such a dick, it was only a matter of time.

Plucking petulantly at the hood of her papier-mâché Hell’s Whorehouse mask, Joely ripped it off to scrunch it in an angry fist. “I spent hours getting this just the right shade of chartreuse, and for what?” She pointed at the newcomer. “This…queue-jumper’s going to scoop the top place for certain.”

“Woah! Overreacting much. Get a load of those yellow eyes, and that massive pulsating whatever you call it. Don’t know how he did it but dude’s got creep style.” 

“And who says it’s not a chick?” She was so over his sexist bullshit. He was right, though. They didn’t have a hope. Still, she wasn’t going to give up without drawing blood.  

“So who’s hiding behind the celluloid,” she said with an upward tilt of her chin and a quick step closer. Her rival wasn’t keen on soap and water. A sickly reek assaulted her nostrils. It reminded her of mushrooms left too long in the back of the fridge.

“Typhon.”

Definitely a guy. Joely hated it the most when they won. “Weird name. Just made it up for the night, I guess.”

“No. Greek parents.”

What was up with the whole voice thing? Like gravel being ground in a cement mixer. Maybe he had the virus. “Where’s your mask, jerk? Don’t be bringing your killer snot round us.”

There was a slushy sound, like a boot being dragged from sticky mud. “Yuk. You really suck,” said Josh. “Ooh I’m a poet.” He hooted and slapped his thigh.

“Shut it, shit-for-brains. Maybe Grendel here’s really sick.” It wasn’t like her to care, but the stranger intrigued her. 

Gravel-guts shuffled on the spot, emitting a chorus of wheezes and snorts. “Immune compromised. Don’t get out much, specially now.” 

As she watched him hoik a booger out of the suck hole in his chest, Joely realised his head was in behind. The horror show on top was just a prop. Explained the height. Her resentment subsided to a simmer. “Oh, poor you. Guess tonight’s like your birthday, but with more friends.”

Josh snorted. “You can tag along with us, Stink Boy, but keep your social distance. Don’t make me heave all over your slime suit.”

The trio traipsed around for an hour or so’s half-hearted scamming of treats from younger kids’ baskets, then headed for the high school hall for the judging. As they walked inside, a collective sigh of envy rose from the crowd already gathered there. Joely heard someone nearby voicing her own thoughts. “Might as well leave now. That freak’s gonna win.” A Chucky clone tried to poke the green slime. “C’mon, bruh, who did your suit? Their new friend backed away, scissor hands held high. “Shit bro, whatever,” said his interrogator. “You’re the GOAT.”

Later, clutching his Godzilla-shaped trophy, Typhon shocked Jaxon and Joely with an invitation. “Wanna come to mine? Got some boss stuff to show you.”

“Cool,” said Jaxon. “Everyone loves a winner.”

Joely gripped his bicep and whispered in his ear. “He’s creepy, let’s not.”

“C’mon bae, where’s the harm? It’s not like we have to stay.”

Walking up the path to his house Joely wondered what she’d expected. A crypt? It was just another tract home, not too different from her own. Life was so fucking normal. She’d date Jaxon, get pregnant and marry him just like her mum. Joely shivered. Don’t even, girl. Anything can happen, you’ll see.

Inside, Typhon said she could touch his suit if she liked. She reached out one ginger finger. He was cold and slick, like a lizard. 

“What do you think when you look at me?” His voice now rolled around the room like thunder in the hills. Then it hit her like a hammer blow. The town had been rocked by a string of Halloween tragedies. Were they about to be the latest? 

She watched, transfixed with dread as the monster’s crest and wings unfurled. Before her blighted eyes his body expanded until she and Jaxon were momentarily squished against the wall which then shrieked and groaned behind them as it grew outwards and transformed into something much worse than she could ever have imagined, when standing outside. 

Its head now snaked down on from where it had touched the vaulted ceiling high above to intone, in a voice that shook the earth, “I am Typhon, god of all dragons, destroyer of worlds.” 

The doomed couple watched in awe as its pulsing orifice gaped wide. Reproducing at the speed of light, more heads and gaping maws exploded from its body. Josh’s screams of disgust and terror dwindled to a whimper. Then, as if someone had lit a bonfire in a back room, the monster’s noisome stench was subsumed by the charcoal reek of hell. Josh croaked as if being throttled by invisible hands. “Babe, we’re barbecue.” 

She was oddly silent, he realised, as he scanned the now-bursting and smoking room for proof of life. His eyes stung like a bitch but he couldn’t tear them away from the nightmare scenario. “Woah, apocalypse,” he whispered through lips seared by the now-raging inferno.  

Then he saw her, hanging limply, ceiling high, from one humungous, scaly claw, it’s talons dripping scarlet. Time hung in a void as the monster’s hoary fist brought her ever closer to its voracious orifice. 

Josh’s lids clamped down, a nanosecond too late. Joely’s image remained, imprinted on his retina, as his reluctant ears rang with the crunch of bone on bone and the moist enjoyment of their nemesis as it feasted.