I first noticed the trick or treater when I was leaving the party. I had recently broken up with my asshole boyfriend Mitch, who had been on a relentless mean streak since a bad case of post concussion syndrome had derailed his dreams of being drafted into the NFL. It had all culminated a few weeks back with him threatening to "slap the shit" out of me if I didn't stop arguing with him about going out for a night of drinking with my friends.
I broke it off then and there. Sure, it was a four year time investment down the drain but I wasn't going to let anybody threaten me. Mitch's behavior had grown increasingly erratic the last few months, and I knew it wouldn't take long for the threats to escalate to full on violence. He was pretty upset about having to leave our shared apartment, but luckily the lease was in my name.
So here I was, a 23 year old single female living alone in a cramped apartment just off campus, working towards a Master's Degree in Education.
On the bright side, there are worse times to be single than Halloween.
The spooky time of year was always my favorite. Ever since I was a kid, I've loved decorating the house, picking out my costume, buying huge bags of candy... All the pomp and circumstance of this season is my bread and butter.
Even though it was only the second week of October, Halloween parties abounded both on and off campus. Like I said, as much as my relationship ending stung, there was no shortage of cute guys in ridiculous costumes to help ease my pain.
Which brings me back to the point of all this. The trick or treater.
It was a crisp Saturday night - far from the unseasonable warmth of the past few Octobers in my part of the country, this fall really felt like fall. Brisk mornings, chilly evenings, the whole "sweater weather" deal. I had spent the day with some of my friends watching a few scary movies and getting all of our costumes together in preparation for a party a few blocks away from my apartment that night.
Normally, I'm not one for "sexy" Halloween costumes. Quite the opposite actually. I'm no ugly duckling by any means, but I always delighted in coming up with elaborate and truly horrifying displays for Halloween activities. One year in high school, I went as a crewmember of the Nostromo, complete with a suitably gory baby xenomorph graphically bursting out of my chest.
This year however, my goal was to attract some male attention. As such, I went for the typical "sexy" Halloween costume of this day and age: Harley Quinn. Nothing creative, I know. I made a mental note to make up for it by devising something especially outlandish for next year.
My friends and I headed to the party at around 7:00 pm. The apartment hosting the party was nearby, within walking distance of my own apartment. We decided that walking was the way to go, as the part of the city we were situated in wasn't known for being particulary dangerous, even at night and we were planning on indulging in some controlled substances.
Sarah, whom I had been friends with through my entire college career, was dressed as a sexy "Super Mario," complete with a fake mustache that juxtaposed oddly against the revealing denim miniskirt/red tank top combo. She shoved me playfully. "You're probably only gonna have to compete against like, 37 other Harley Quinns tonight Morgan," she said, laughing.
I laughed. "I'm going after the guy with the coolest costume, whether he's good looking or not. And Harley Quinn may be generic, but what kind of weirdos are you gonna attract with that sexy Mario outfit?!" Cindy, another one of our friends, who was dressed as a sexy Luigi to complement Sarah, frowned. "You think these are too out there...?" We all continued laughing as we made our way to the party.
Unfortunately, I struck out. After several hours of standing around, drinking, smoking a little, and flirting with the few guys who weren't available or going after one of the other Harley Quinns - I cursed Sarah for being right - I was ready to call it a night. I had barely even managed to get more than buzzed and the weight of my current personal situation was beginning to drag me down.
Inexplicably, Sarah and Cindy's costumes had gotten them a ton of attention from two particular geeky-looking, though not unattractive, guys. Sarah was sitting on a couch chatting up the one dude, dressed as Negan from the Walking Dead, when I approached her. "Hey," I said over the music. "I'm gonna get out of here, I think." Sarah was more than a little drunk, but she still recognized the potential danger of me walking home alone even in our neighborhood.
She shook her head violently. "No..." She slurred. "C'mon Morg, I can't let ya do that..." she trailed off. I rolled my eyes. "In your state you wouldn't be a great chaperone. I'll be fine. Maybe this party wasn't a great idea, I'm just not really feeling it." Negan was getting impatient. Sarah bit her lip and looked back and forth. "I'll text you when I get back to my apartment, I promise." I reassured her. She finally relented, pointing a drunken finger at me. "Alright, you better." I smiled, turning to leave as she faced Negan again.
I immediately pulled my coat tight as I stepped out of the apartment and into the cool night air. This damn revealing outfit had really come back to bite me in the ass. As I started the walk back to my apartment, I noticed a figure standing under the dim glow of a streetlight on the other side of the road.
It looked to be a small child - probably a boy judging from the build- maybe 10-12 years old, in a ratty red hoodie. His pants were equally rugged - dirty black sweats caked in filth. Filthy, untied sneakers completed the ensemble. Over his shoulder, a sack that one would probably use for trick or treating was slung.
A trick or treater? That wasn't right. It was only like, October 14th. Halloween wasn't for a few weeks. I began to wonder if this wasn't a trick or treater, but a vandal. A young punk out for some early Halloween mischief.
As I stood there gawking, the trick or treater turned.
I froze.
Instead of the face of a child, I was greeted with a stark white visage. A long, gaunt face with a pointed chin that seemed to extend almost to the stomach. Massive black voids with yellow pinpricks where eyes should have been, above two sunken nostrils. A wide, rictus grin with far too many teeth topped it off. In my somewhat foggy state of mild inebriation, it took me a second to realize that the kid was just wearing a really fucked up looking mask.
I breathed a sigh of relief, and the kid turned his head slightly. What the hell was this costume even supposed to be? Dirty Pale Faced Boy? Doesn't sound like any horror movie I've ever seen.
Now, despite the shock of the mask, I didn't feel unsafe or intimidated by this kid. In fact, I was still kind of worried about him. Why is a kid running around at 12:00 in the morning in their Halloween costume weeks before Halloween?
As a future educator, it felt like my duty to help kids out, even creepy ones that stand under street lamps at midnight.
"Hey kid," I called. "Are you okay? It's pretty late, maybe you should head home." He turned back away from me after I called out, almost like he was trying to hide from me. I sighed. "Do you need me to call someone? You shouldn't be out here alone." No answer. I was weighing my options, when a scratchy yet almost infantile voice called out to me. It was decidedly male, and childlike.
"Trick or treat..."
I frowned. "Halloween isn't for a few more weeks buddy, and it's waaay too late for you to be trick or treating anyway! I can call your parents..." I trailed off as he turned to face me once more.
"Trick or treat..."
My blood turned to ice. When the kid spoke the second time... His mouth moved.
The mouth of his "mask" moved.
Instinctively, I took a small step back. The trick or treater slung the empty sack off his back and held it in front of him, as he began making his way across the street. "Trick or treat... Trick or treat... Trick or treat..." He repeated, over and over. That wide mouth opening and closing, but never breaking from the massive grin. His white forehead wrinkled as his eyes grew even wider, seemingly in anticipation.
My mouth hung open as the trick or treater closed in. He was only a few feet away from me now, and I could make out more clearly his tiny, clawed hands. Wrinkled and pale like his face, ending in sharp black points with which he clutched the sack. The stains on his clothes didn't look so much like dirt anymore.
I turned and ran, and heard an inhuman screech of what could've been anger or shock. As a lifelong horror fan, I had always craved an experience with the unknown. But the danger I felt had overriden any sense of curiosity. I sobered up quick as I sprinted down the block.
I turned back only once, and saw that the creature was nearly on my back. It's smile was gone now, replaced with an irritated grimace as it continued screaming "Trick or treat! Trick or treat! Trick or treat!" and gibbering like an animal, spittle flying from it's gaping maw.
I felt a rush of air as the creature took a swipe at my back. It had been several blocks, and I could see my apartment building. I had to make it, but I was running out of breath and time as I felt the creature's small hand briefly grasp my hoodie before losing its grip.
Panicked, I popped open my purse and began hurling objects backwards at the trick or treater. Lipstick tubes, some fun sized candy bars I'd stashed from the student lounge, a bottle of hairspray, my makeup mirror, anything I could find. It sounded like a few of them connected - the creature made an odd gasping noise and I felt less heat on the back of my neck.
As I barreled through the front door of the apartment lobby, I turned to see... Nothing. No childlike phantom hot on my heels. Though the adrenaline had sobered me up somewhat, I began doubting if maybe something I'd smoked at that party had been more than just pot. Gripping at the back of my hoodie revealed a small tear, almost like a tiny clawed hand had grabbed it. I had no idea what to think.
If it was a hallucination, it had been a damn intense one. I started feeling foggy again, and made my way up to my apartment to get some sleep, remembering to text Sarah that I was home safe before doing so.
I opened my front door and flicked the light on. I nearly screamed. Sitting on my couch was Mitch. He looked angry.
"Mitch," I sighed. "What the fuck are you doing here? Do I need to call the cops?" He stood up, his expression growing darker. "What's with the slutty outfit Morgan? Already trying to replace me?" He looked me up and down, seeming to notice my messed up hair and runny makeup. "You look like you had a good time."
I rolled my eyes. I wasn't about to tell him I'd messed my outfit up running away from a monster that might not have even been there. "Get the hell out of here Mitch. And give me whatever copy of the key you used to get in here." He shook his head. "I don't think I'll be doing that Morgan. I'm still pretty fucking mad about the way things ended."
Suddenly, he grabbed my arm, and covered my mouth with his other hand. "Don't you wanna spend one last night together?" I tried fighting, but Mitch had always been strong. I had never envisioned myself feeling so weak, even in a scenario like this. He began dragging me towards the bedroom as I struggled against him. "Shut the fuck up." he commanded. "Or I'll do worse than slap the shit out of you... Ah hell, fuck it." He wrapped his hands around my throat, tight. Even if I'd had the power to scream, nothing would've come out.
My head felt light, my eyes fluttered. This wasn't how I thought I'd die, that's for sure.
There was a knock at the door. Mitch loosened the pressure somewhat, but not enough for me to make a sound. Another knock.
A familiar voice floated through the door. "Trick or treat..." My eyes widened. I began kicking wildly, trying to break free. Mitch glared at me angrily. "What the fuck is this, one of your little friends?" He hissed, in an angry whisper. "Trick or treat..." the trick or treater's childlike voice wafted in again.
The doorknob slowly turned. I hadn't locked it when I'd walked in and been startled by Mitch. Mitch's eyes widened in horror as the small creature in the red hoodie sauntered into my room. He let go of my throat, and I collapsed to the floor.
The trick or treater looked back and forth between us, assessing the situation. Suddenly, he lunged at Mitch. Even a former athlete's reaction time couldn't match the speed and ferocity of the trick or treater. Howling like a mad primate, the creature knocked Mitch to the ground and clawed at his throat. A bright red arterial spray painted my ceiling as its claws penetrated his jugular.
Mitch grabbed the creature's torso in a futile attempt to fight it off, but it was much stronger than him. Blood bubbled from Mitch's mouth, and his eyes glassed over. The creature's smile widened once again, and for the second time that night I couldn't even scream.
It suddenly snapped its head toward me, wide black eyes focused intently on mine. It stood up from Mitch's corpse, and slowly began walking in my direction. Overwhelmed by shock and fear, I passed out.
I awoke the next morning to... Nothing. No bloodstains, no visits from the cops, no corpse of my ex-boyfriend in the living room. How the fuck was that possible? Was last night all some wild trip? The soreness in my throat and tenderness around my neck confirmed that it wasn't. I clutched my aching head and brewed a pot of coffee. Suddenly, I noticed something on the kitchen counter.
Scrawled on a torn piece of looseleaf paper, in barely legible chickenscratch was a note.
"Thank you for treat. Happy Halloween." Laid on the counter beside the note, were the empty wrappers of several fun-sized candy bars I'd stashed from the student lounge, their contents now in the belly of a very satisfied trick or treater.
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Credits
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