Night of Terror

Screams of terror carried by the breeze that causes goosebumps, horrified faces that plaster every figure out in the dark night and do not forget the jack o'lanterns that light up the creaky porches. This is what one would call the night of October 31st. This is the night that the devil comes out to play and that little angel on your shoulder  just happens to disappear. 

I brush past children dressed as vampires and princesses, their innocence radiating off them as they walk through the streets without a care in the world, and their parents rushing after them in hopes to protect them from the shadows that lurk as the sun goes down.I look to the sky to see a dark midnight sky cast my eyes. Time is ticking and it has almost run out; lock your doors and find your hiding places, because it is almost time to play. 

    October 31st was once a night dedicated to frighten the ghosts that haunted tiny villages back in the day; now in modern day it is a day children ask random strangers for candy. Whatever happened to those ghosts that humans grew to fear and then to forget about? Only time will tell.

 I arrived at my dearly missed home. The chipped away paint that decorates the creaky wood of the porch and the black cat that awaits sitting silently watching me. I made my way inside, how I missed the familiar smell of smoke and maple. I watch through the window of the attic of my house, the teenagers seeking excitement walk past my house and I sense the fear which consumes them as they make their way to the night of terrors. Pieces of my long jet black hair decorate my silk white pale face, I dress in black from head to toe; no reason to put a costume on, when you are naturally terrifying. “Rrrrrrrkkk”, echoes through the empty house as I open the creaky wooden door. Swiftly I enter the crowds of humans who make their way toward the night of terrors, my favorite night of all.

    I brush right through everyone, leaving goosebumps running up their arms, and faces full of confusion. I find a spot lurched on a tree on a hill a little away from the large crowd, which allows me to see all those who await their unknown destiny. The faces full of excitement listen for the announcement, “ Attention Salem ! Welcome to the night of terrors, keep your loved ones close and your prayers on repeat, because the night of terrors has now begun.” You see the night of terrors is when so called paid actors dressed up as freaky characters, roam the small town, and scare all the civilians who choose to take part, what they do not know is that the mayor every year hides a very crucial detail from them. 

    Teenagers and Adults of Salem rush their separate ways and I remain in my spot sporting a smirk which only grows wider as I watch the moon shine bright. The game has long begun and I await my first challenge;  “AHHHHHH”, the first scream of terror rips through the air. I rise and make my way to my creaky old house. It takes only a moment to find a girl and a boy who are waiting in front of my house and panting as if they have seen a ghost, ironic is it not, they probably just did or going to. 

    I place a comforting hand on the shoulder of the boy; he has dark black hair and green eyes that look as though they could make any girl fall under a spell. He turns toward me with a frown and an ounce of fear which lurks behind his eyes. “Must you stand in front of my house, without asking permission from the owner”, I ask knowing that it will cause shock to mainly him and partly the girl. The frown then turns into pure shock and that ounce of fear that once lurked behind his eyes easily consumes his whole body. The girl with a look of confusion sensing tension in the air, in addition to the mood which is set by the screams ripping through the air of the “night of terrors”, she pulls him closer, similar to what a small girl would do to a teddy bear.

    Leaving the boy in his spot, I move inside my house that resembles one you would see in a horror movie; why leave the boy there, well curiosity killed the cat remember, as will it the boy. As every knight in shining armour will do, I sense the boy leave the girl in the front yard and make his way past the creaky porch and into my home. He stands in the entrance searching for a trace of my existence, only to find none; I watch as he takes each step carefully. Bravery is such an interesting thing, as is curiosity, even when one knows the outcomes they will continue to do it out of spite. 

    The boy walked up the stairs, noticing the pictures that decorate the walls, causing him to make a hefty swallow of the bile which was rising in his throat. One picture in particular catches his eye, it is of a family: two parents, a little boy, and a little girl. They are all smiling, “they look happy” the boy thinks, however, something seems off in the background. It is a house that resembles the one he stands in currently. The one he stands in currently seems as if it had been burned down compared to that of the photo. I sense the boy stiffen, he has caught on fast; such a shame this challenge may be shorter than expected. I brush right through him and the hairs on his arm rise up as his attention adverts from the photo, he grabs the photo and makes his steps back down toward the stairs to find the door. As he reaches the door and wraps his hand around the handle, however  he is not able to open it. I observe his attempt in all his efforts as his fear for himself creeps up his neck and not care for the girl behind the door who he thinks is still there. He does not know, she left him to seek another knight as he became a cat and no knight. 

    I made my way toward the boy and grabbed the photo, my eyes lingered over the photo and a feeling of guilt consumed me, although as quick as it came it left. I drop the photo which smashes the glass frame, this grabs the boys attention and my green eyes stare intensely into his. The mission that once drove me to this point now, had been forgotten and the familiar feeling of regret set in, this was my brother who stood in the house that he burnt down and that took my life on October 31st, one year ago today. I was meant to take my revenge on the day that the dead lived again, to save a girl who’s life was about to be taken away just like mine. Why is it, I have been cursed to haunt a town, when a real killer roams the streets every 31st causing screams to rip through the air, what can you do when the mayor is the killer. 

    A wet tear runs down my face as the world around me disappears once more and the pain that consumed me the very night that my life seized to exist consumes me once more. Until next year, dear brother.