Trespasser

The grim reaper is still following me. 

I look behind me to check again. The Reaper is about 20 feet away and gaining. As I speed up I pass a zombie, a wizard, a ninja turtle, a ballerina, 7 witches, a knight in ‘shining’ armor, and a middle-aged man with the words “I’m a muggle” on his shirt. I try to wipe off the sticky mud on my shirt. Each costumed child (and middle aged muggle) holding a pillowcase bursting with candy. In my neighborhood we take Halloween seriously.

There are full on fistfights–and sword fights, depending on the costume–at the houses that give out king-sized candy bars. Was this how I angered the Grim Reaper? Did I take the candy he wanted? All I know is it's been 4 blocks and he’s still on my tail. He or she, I guess. I can’t see their face behind their mask. Which, I might add, is super elaborate. The cloak too. If they weren’t creepily stalking me I would congratulate them on their awesome costume.

 I glance to my sides but no one seems to be inclined to assist me with escaping my cloaked stalker. A Care Bear, A.K.A my sister, is scrambling, as if she can’t find me. I just roll my eyes.

“It’s not that dark,” I mumble under my breath. Cara, the Care Bear, calls my name a few times then apparently gives up and goes back to the woods. I call out to her a few times but she must be trying to annoy me because Cara ignores my calls and sprints–as well as she can in a fluffy costume–back to the Woods Short-cut. 

 The Woods Short-cut is something I’m especially proud of since I found it myself 2 Halloweens ago. It leads from our neighborhood to this one, the rich kid street where every house hands out candy bars the size of your arm. The best part is it's fast. You don’t have to spend 40 minutes winding through little alleyways, nope, just cut through the Carrow’s backyard, over the creek, walk on the slippery log, climb up the big boulders, slide down the steep hill, and boom! You're in candy heaven. You do, however, usually end up getting a little dirty. Which is why my shirt is sticky.

I can remember the day I discovered it like it was yesterday. It was a chilly October night (obviously, because I found it on Halloween) and we’d already collected all the candy there was to be had on our meager little street.

“I’m not ready to go home yet,” Cara had whined.

“Me neither,” I agreed.

“But the neighborhood with the good candy is, like, so far.” It was true. It took forever, especially when the streets were crowded with children, to get to the rich neighborhood. And, anyway, mom didn’t want us to walk there alone. 

Cara dragged her cape (that year she’d been Super-girl) along the road as we trudged home. I looked forlornly at my only half-filled pillowcase. This would probably last 2 weeks tops. Maybe 3 if I rationed. Which I never, ever did. Cara’s was even less full. And with that an indignant fire filled me. 

No! This was our day! We were kids and it was Halloween and gosh-dangit we were getting our candy. The idea sparked in my brain.

“The woods!” I’d shrieked.

“Huh?”

“This neighborhood and the good candy street are separated by the woods! If we cross through there we’ll be with the MnM’s in no time.”

Cara considered it for a minute and then a smile slowly lit up her face. “Yeah! Ready, or not king-sized candy bars, here we come!”

Me and Cara raced to the woods near our house (I won) and we charged inside. The trees were dense but the promise of candy kept us going.

We wormed our way through a prickly bush, and burst out into the thickest part of the woods. I hopped over branches and wadded through the creek. That was kind of stupid because there was a fallen tree about 10 feet away that served as a perfect bridge, and my frog costume (OK, I admit that one was lame) was cold and weighted. Cara was smart enough to use the log and gloated about it for months. But, my spirits were not dampened like my costume.  I was on my way to the rich neighborhood.

 After that, we crept silently to the rocky hill. The boulders were huge and slippery. Some of them wobbled when you put too much weight on it. Cara was the faster of the 2 of us. She scampered up that hill like it was nothing and slid down the other side in a matter of minutes. I took my time. I weighed more than her and so it was harder for me. Actually to this day it's still harder for me. But I love the climb. Cara was waiting for me at the bottom and we charged towards the houses. Filling our bags to the brim and stuffing even more candy in our pockets. It had been a glorious day. 

Even now when I think about it I smile. Of course, Cara doesn't wait for me at the bottom any more. She runs up ahead while I struggle to catch up. She’s annoying like that. 

With a  shake of my head I clear my thoughts and focus on the problem at hand. I peer over my shoulder and see the recognizable black cloak lurking about 15 meters away. I’m almost impressed that Reaper–that's what I’m calling him now–is still sticking to me. They don’t even stop for candy or anything. Now, that's commitment. Commitment to do what? Stalk me? I don’t exactly know. But still; commitment.

Their black cloak swishes in the wind and tendrils of black cloth sweep past some passing kids dressed as minions. Missing their feet by inches. The minions ignore him, which, good for them, since Reaper came within inches of tripping them and I definitely would have had something to say about that.

Since Cara has decided to ditch me I decide it's a good time to find some friends to join. Maybe the Reaper will leave me alone if I’m with a group?

A gang of teenage boys are tossing some pieces of candy to each other. The Reaper glides closer, so I start marching towards them. I don’t technically know these teens but they're better than no one at this point.

“Uh, hey guys! Good haul you got here.” One of the boys, dressed as Dracula, throws a Snickers candy bar at my face and I barely dodge it in time. His friend behind me, this one is dressed like Santa Clause, catches it and throws it to the boy on his left, who’s cackling in his lame Scream costume.

“Hey! Watch it, you jerks!” I huff, indignantly. Just because I’m short for a girl my age doesn't mean they can throw stuff over my head–or at my face, which is what Scream attempts to do during my long-suffering sigh.

“Gah! That could’a taken my eye out! Your aim stinks!” Scream doesn't even look down, he just passes it over my head to Dracula again. Just a group of irritating boys, I tell myself as they ignore my insults and continue flinging the sweets to each other. 

I tromp away, wringing out my sticky shirt with one hand, and now I’m getting seriously mad at Cara. Why did she have to ditch me? What's even so cool in the woods? Well, I’m not sharing any of my candy with her, that's for sure. If she wants to miss out on trick-or-treating at the candy bar mansions that's her problem. And with that thought I jog up to a house with so many Halloween decorations it's hard to see where the door is.

A group of blow-up T-Rexes are already at the doorstep when I arrive. They jostle each other and one almost falls on me. Honestly! What is it with people and their aversion to personal space! They back up quickly and I see that the door has swung open to reveal a lady in a beautiful witch costume holding out a bag of candy. I hear the crackling of wrappers. YESSS! I knew that this house would have good candy, I think as the witch-lady with blazing red hair and lots of wrinkles dumps a few handfuls of airheads into the dinosaur's already-overflowing pillowcase. This is some good stuff. I hold out my bag expectantly and chant:

“Trick or treat, give me something good to eat!” Along with the other kids, even though she was already filling their bags. 

“Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum!” Shrieks a pink T-Rex girl as she twirls around with her out-stretched bag and narrowly misses hitting me and her brother in the face.

“Oi! Lizzie, yeh dummy,” The boy yells, drowning out my complaints. I’m annoyed but can’t help agreeing with Pink T-Rex. Yum, indeed. I hold my bag out a little more towards the witch-lady. She must’ve not seen me (I’m not that short, am I?) because she doesn’t heap any airheads into my bag. Perhaps my costume isn’t good enough to warrant her attention? I’m a cowgirl and, yes, it got a little bit of mud splattered on my shirt during the short-cut but cowgirls are messy, right? I mean, cows are messy so cowgirls would be too.

 I shake my pillowcase dramatically and almost shove it into the woman’s face after she continues to ignore me. I growl angrily after a minute as I wander off the porch. Did I say something? Oh well. I don’t want treats from a jerk. They’d probably be laced or something. I try to believe that, but my mouth waters at the sight of the dozens of airheads being thrown into the T-Rexes’s bags. Airheads are my favorite candy. 

Dad, who is at home, handing out candy, is world famous (not really) for freeze-dried airheads which are…AMAZING. If I’m not getting any airheads from red-head-witch-lady, Reaper better not either. I noticed something. Reaper doesn’t have a pillowcase. Weird. But what do I care? I’m glad he’s not getting rewarded with chocolates or other sweets.

I storm away from the disappointing house but to my utter fury, Reaper is still 20 feet behind me. Except now it's more like 10 feet. I want to yell, “Would you just leave me alone?!”, but that’d be a stupid thing to do, because:

A) He’s, like, 10 feet away and could probably catch up to me and rip off my head. 

B) I’ve heard stories of girls getting kidnapped walking alone, so antagonizing a stranger who already has an interest in me seems like a dumb plan. 

C) What if he’s a really, really, really tall 6 year old who thinks it’s funny. I’d never be able to babysit in this neighborhood again.

So, based on these points, I march on. And as street lights start slowly turning off I decide it might be a good idea to go home. I don’t normally turn in for another hour or so, but the whole teen-boy thing has thrown me off my game. Plus I should really check on Cara and make sure she’s okay. Anyways, I might be getting old for Halloween. Maybe next year I’ll just stay home or go to some boring party. Ugh, being a teen is lame, I think. At least I got a good load this year. This candy should last me until Christmas!

I speed up a bit and head to the Woods Short-cut. To be honest, I can’t really remember taking it on the way here, probably because I’ve done it so many times, so it takes me a lot longer than usual to find the entrance to the woods.

“Did I take a different route this time,” I whisper to myself. “Maybe I skipped the boulders this year?” That could be true. I really don’t remember the boulders at all. And that in itself is strange because those are usually my favorite parts. I love the thrill of adrenaline I get at the danger of the climb. 

By now I’m really starting to panic because the Reaper is 5 feet away and I’m no closer on my way home. Cara must have left without me (mean) and no one around me seems to notice my panic. Is Reaper even allowed to be here? He’s probably trespassing or something.

“Uh, help?” I glance around but the monsters, animals, and warlocks are too enchanted by their candy.

Reaper is 2 feet away now and I can see the whites of their eyes. Or…I would if they actually had any. Which it seems they do not. Just black swirling darkness. I really need to get tips from them for my next costume. It must be the mask. The swirling eyes must be beads in the mask. One time I got one of those types of beads at Girl Scouts. They kicked me out that same day because I had gone on ‘one to many unsupervised adventures’, which confused me because the whole part of the Scouts I was in was to do adventure. I’m a little bit of a daredevil. Speaking of devils…

“HELP! This guys really freakin’ me out!” I try to yell but it comes out more like a whisper. It's like my body now has this irrational fear (actually it may be kinda rational now) towards this guy and just wants to run but I just can’t somehow. His eyes–no, his beads–stare at me and I feel so, so stuck. Trapped by those eyes–beads.

“H-h-help,” I whimper.

“Evangeline, your time has come,” The Grim Reaper announces. His or her (or it’s for that matter) voice is like nothing I’ve ever heard. I feel like I shouldn’t be here. 

“P-people call me E-e-evie,” I stutter. But, to be perfectly honest…no one has called me Evie, or anything really, all night and…I look down at my sticky shirt.

Oh.

The End.