My Little Ghostbuster

The first time I took a child trick or treating was magical. It was still early, early enough that all the kids could be back home in time for bedtime, so the streets weren't crowded. Decorated homes lined the side of the road, some completely decked out with flashing lights and jump scares, others with a few orange pumpkins resting on their front porches. Jack-o-lanterns watched with grinning faces, the candles inside their mouths burning bright. You could tell which ones were carved by kids and which ones weren't.

Occasionally, I would see another small group pass us, boisterous children and tired but happy parents. The kids have always been my favorite to watch. There's something about the way they throw themselves wholeheartedly into the holiday spirit. I don't blame them. Halloween used to be my favorite holiday, too. The one day you could be anything, the day when spooky was allowed, when creepy and unusual were celebrated.

Near me, a small troop of kids laughed and darted, a fairy, a princess, a firefighter and a robber, but my eyes were only on her. I watched as she bounced from house to house, and I followed at a distance. She looked radiant, dressed as a ghostbuster. The baggy beige suit hung off her small frame, her gloves were too big, and the collar didn't quite lay right. A ratty backpack covered in duct tape hung off her back and a paper towel tube was her - ghost fighting gun? Spirit vacuum? To be honest, I'm not really sure what it was called. But oh, she was so proud.

"I'm gonna catch all the ghosts! I'm not scared of no ghosts!!!!!"

That night was cold, and she was bundled in a scarf, with a hat stuffed over her long blonde hair. Her pink cheeks glowed and the stars were in her eyes. My beautiful little ghostbuster. Dashing from house to house, she waved her paper towel tube around, dancing with imaginary ghosts. She twirled and pun until she was so dizzy she could barely walk straight, and then she did it again.

Her pillowcase grew fat with candy as the night went on, her teeth stained sugary pink. I smiled as she waltzed along, her laughter carried back to me by the brisk autumn air.

"Woah!!! Look at this house!! I bet their driveway is a million miles long!"

The kids began their trek up the winding driveway alone, their parents milling by the mailbox, waiting while they collected goodies. I skirted the group of middle aged adults, and ignored the weird looks as I walked down the driveway. Soon, I reached the house. Hidden from the parents by a copse of thick pines, the kids had just reached the door when I saw them. They rang the doorbell twice, giggling with the glee that only children can manage. "Someone's coming, someone's coming!!"

The door opened.

"Trick or treat!!!" they chorused. The man at the door - dressed as a scarecrow - smiled and handed out candy to each. He wished them a happy Halloween and closed the door. I smiled to myself.

Skipping and jumping, the kids dashed back to their parents. My little ghostbuster rushed, and didn't notice when her candy bag caught on a sharp branch in the landscaping.

Ri-i-i-ip

Like a piñata, candy spilled in all directions, despite her best efforts. Her friends didn't realize and ran on, unaware. Making my move, I walked carefully over and knelt next to her, helping her pick up piece after piece of scattered sweets. 

"Hey, there. Your costume looks great. Ghostbuster, right?"

She blinked up at me owlishly, then gave me a gap-toothed grin.

"Yup! Me and Daddy made it!"

I smiled back. She was so lovely.

"Wow. It must be better than all the other costumes, look how much candy you got!" She giggled and my heart ached. Soon, she realized that putting the candy back in her pillowcase was a losing battle. The gaping rip in the bottom was large enough that everything slid out again, onto the damp grass. 

"Uh oh," I smiled comfortingly at her, "Looks like your bag is too ripped. I'll tell you what, I have an extra bag in my car, would you like to come get it with me?"

"Yes please! I need to be able to carry all my candy!" 

"Alright, if we hurry, we can get back before anyone even realizes we're gone." She scrambled to her feet and made to walk down the driveway. 

"WAIT!" She turned, startled, and I immediately lowered my voice. "Wait. I know a shortcut. Follow me!" She did, and I cut across the backyard of the house, walking through trees until we reached another near-empty road. We walked for a few minutes, and finally reached my van. I unlocked it and popped the trunk. She stood next to me bouncing on the balls of her feet, peering into the dim interior. 

"Hmm," I mused, "I can't see very well, it's too dark. Would you mind hopping up and peeking around? I know I have bags in there somewhere..."

She hesitated, but smiled and climbed carefully up into the trunk.

"Where are they?" She asked, glancing at the boxes piled in. I leaned forward, squinting. 

"They must be in that box, the brown one."

Slowly, she picked her way further into the trunk, until she was as far back as she could go, beside the misshapen cardboard box. 

"This one?" She looked inside of it, "There's nothing in-"

I slammed the trunk shut. Strolling casually around the car, I opened the driver's door and climbed in. I heard muffled banging from the trunk, but paid it no heed.

Checking my mirrors, I drove away. 

I saw the newspapers the very next day. Six- year old girl taken while trick-or-treating. Everyone was in an uproar. As for me, I was content. I had a beautiful little prize in the basement, my sweet ghostbuster. For days, I would go down and watch her.

I knew that from the moment I saw her step out of her mother's car, that she was special. I had to have her. I followed her while she trick-or-treated, watching as she danced and laughed. Oh, her beautiful laugh. What I would give to hear it again.

From that Halloween on, it became a tradition. They were all wonderful, with bright eyes and soft hair. I just had to have them. So amazing, every one. But she'll always be my favorite. The child I took when trick-or-treating, for the first time.