“Gather ‘round kiddies, and I’ll tell you a tale of an old woman, just a smidgen younger than me,” the old crone said, rocking slowly in her chair.
“This woman lived all alone in a large house on a hill. Most people were terrified, and never visited. But it wasn’t the woman that frightened them, it was the house. Being an old mansion, it had an ominous look to it. The woman was unable to keep up with repairs, which made it look more decrepit and frightening. But it wasn’t always that way. As is usually the case with such stories, its beginnings are rooted in the past.”
***
There once was a handsome young man who fancied himself a magician. He had a solid, if unspectacular, routine and made a decent living entertaining parties and small groups. Then he met her.
The moment he saw her, she took his breath away, quite literally. It was back in the thirties, when cobblestone streets and horse drawn carriages were on the way out, and automobiles and concrete roads were on the way in. He was crossing the street, lost in thought (as he frequently was) when he stepped in front of her horse and buggy.
The impact knocked him to the ground, and took the wind out of him. When he came to, she was hovering over him with a haze about her that made her seem more alluring than any woman he had ever met.
She profusely apologized, and offered to take him to the hospital. But he would have none of it, instead he requested that she accompany him to dinner that night. Blushing, she said yes, and so began a whirlwind courtship that ended in marriage.
They were wonderful together. She started doing shows as his assistant, and his popularity rose. She gave him the confidence to try better and more exciting tricks, and he grew even more popular. As his confidence grew, he moved on to tricks that were mind boggling, that carried fatal risks, and soon he was filling theaters nightly.
She never left his side, and they shared the applause together every night. They were making money hand over fist, but they were very frugal about spending it. Even so, she noticed large sums of money disappearing here and there from their bank account.
When she questioned him about it, he became nervous and told her not to fret. Even still, it bothered her, so she asked one of her sisters to look into it. After a week, her sister called on her, and told her things were just fine, and she would enjoy what was coming. Instead of feeling comforted, she became suspicious of her sister.
It was their third wedding anniversary, and he drove her to the outskirts of town. The street they were driving on came to a sudden end. As if the men making it just up and vanished. He parked the car and got out, walked over to her side, and opened the door for her.
“Come, my love,” he said, offering his hand.
She got out, and looked around but there was nothing but empty fields.
“This way,” he said, pointing to a certain spot. The evening fog was creeping up on them as he donned his hat and cape. He pulled out his wand, and did the ‘Nothing up my sleeve’ routine.
She was less than amused, in fact, she was downright annoyed. Then he turned toward the field and began waving his wand in circles. A sudden storm began to blow. The wind whipped her hair, and took his hat, but he kept on waving his wand.
“My love,” she said, nearly screaming over the din. “Perhaps it would be safer in the car.”
He pretended not to hear her, and carried on. Suddenly a lightning bolt struck not one hundred feet from where they stood. The impact knocked them both to the ground. As quickly as the storm had begun, it ended. He brushed himself off, and helped her up.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“Look,” he said, pointing where the lightning had struck. The empty field now held a house. However, calling it a house barely did it justice. It was huge, a borderline mansion. There were three stories above ground. It was built in gothic, Victorian styles.
“Exactly as I always pictured it,” she said, hugging him as her annoyance melted away. “Thank you!”
The next few years were a bit of a roller coaster. He didn’t tell her everything about the house.
“Like every great lady, she has her mysteries to be found,” he told her.
Trap doors and hidden passageways were just the beginning. It was like living a wonderful adventure. The fame and fortune continued to rise, all that was missing was an heir.
She had always loved children. She volunteered reading at the library every week, and they gave very generously to children’s charities. She had wanted to have several of her own, but alas, it was not to be.
The doctor had tried to tell her as gently as possible that she couldn’t bear children, but she was no less devastated. She fell into a deep depression, and he cancelled several shows to be with her, but she was inconsolable.
He came to her one night.
“My love, I have to go back to work,” he said.
“Please don’t,” she replied. “Can’t you take a leave?”
“I already have. Any more and I won’t have an audience to return to.”
“I don’t want you to go,” she pleaded.
“It’ll be fine,” he said, softly stroking her hair. “I’ll be back soon.”
“You can’t do it without me,” she said quietly, with tears streaming down her cheeks.
It was merely a statement of fact, and a desperate plea. He took it as an accusation, and quietly left the house.
She never saw him alive again.
***
The next day, the headlines in the newspapers told of a tragic accident. A popular magician had perished when a dangerous trick had gone wrong. The news devastated her even more. She plummeted past depression, past melancholy, into a near comatose state.
Her sisters came and nursed her back to health, but it took nearly a year, and she emerged a different person. The house became everything to her. She cared for it as she would a child.
Years wore on, and apathy began to creep in. Fame and fortune quickly dissipated like the vapor that they are. She became more and more defensive of the house, even while allowing it to fall into disrepair. She barely went outside anymore, leaving the weeds and bushes in a life or death struggle for territory.
Years became decades. The famous magician and his wife were forgotten, but the house became legend. It was something to be feared and avoided by all but the most daring and foolish.
Halloween was the perfect time for both …
***
The lone tree in the front yard was nearly as tall as the house itself. And like the house, it had a look that sent chills down most people’s spines.
Its limbs curled in the most unusual ways. Sometimes if you caught it at just the right time, it seemed to move even though the air was completely still.
I’ve known this woman for a long time. She could be called many things, quirky, eccentric, even strange, but not evil. The house kept people away, isolating her from society.
Strange things happen to people who are isolated. They begin to see the world in a different light. The things they have around them become much more precious to them. Anything that happens to those things becomes a much greater injustice in their eyes.
This old woman had been satisfied to live alone with her memories. Live and let live had been her motto for years, but like everyone else, she had her breaking point.
It became a tradition around Halloween, this woman’s house would become a target for eggings, cornings, even a brave soul or two would get close enough to do the ‘doggie doo fire bag’ routine.
These all annoyed the old woman, but not as much as the toilet paper in the tree. Rolls and rolls of it. At one point, she considered investing in ‘Charmin’ stock just before Halloween.
Every night the onslaught of garbage began just after dark, and usually ended around midnight. Every morning the house looked mysteriously untouched. It was like some giant vacuum cleaner had come along and sucked up all the mess.
Some of the neighborhood boys had become frustrated as well that their evening work could not be appreciated in the morning.
Johnny, Chris and their friends had personally egged, corned, and TP’d the house five times in the same week. With Johnny doing the ‘doggie doo’ bag himself. Every morning when they walked past the house on the way to middle school, Johnny would be furious to see it clean again.
“She must come out and clean it up,” Johnny said. “I just don’t know how she does it all in one night, especially the toilet paper. It must be thirty feet to the top of that tree.”
“Maybe she uses a ladder,” Chris said.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got to find out,” Johnny said. “Tonight, we’ll all meet near the old lady’s house around midnight. We’ll find out her secret.”
That night, all five of them met around quarter till twelve. It was a cool October night. The dry leaves raced around the yard playing a furious game of tag, at the whim of the wind.
The house had been hit hard. Eggs covered the windows, corn littered the porch, and the tree was white with toilet paper. So much TP that it looked like an early snow.
The boys found a spot out of sight in the bushes where they could see the front porch. They pulled their jackets close around them, and waited, with boredom as their only companion.
Their resolve started to wane when storm clouds rolled up. They were about to give up when the old woman walked out onto her porch.
Looking at her, Johnny was somewhat surprised. She didn’t look the way he thought she would. Yes, you could tell she was old, especially in the face, but she wasn’t bent over, didn’t have a long nose with a wart on the end. She was wearing a light jacket instead of a shawl. None of the stereotypes Johnny had expected.
I guess I thought she’d look like a witch from the movies.
The boys all tried to stay out of sight. They watched as she surveyed the carnage and slowly shook her head. The tree started moving and creaking, making noises the boys had never heard a tree make.
The old woman looked at the tree, then turned and looked straight at the bushes they were hiding behind. There was a blinding flash, then darkness. Johnny’s last thought was, What’s that in her hand?
***
Johnny woke with a start. He thought he felt the vibration of thunder. He rolled over to see if it was raining yet, but the ground felt strange. It was smooth, with a soft texture to it.
The darkness was so complete that he couldn’t see anything. No moon, no stars, no streetlights, nothing. He couldn’t hear anything either, or feel the wind blowing. It was like being covered by a heavy blanket.
He tried to stand, but couldn’t get his balance in the dark. He tried again, and started shuffling forward, nearly falling over what felt like a log. He carefully stepped over it, only to run into something solid.
He ran his hands along the smooth surface, trying to figure out what it was. One thing Johnny knew, this thing was big, much bigger than him. He shuffled along the object until he felt a depression. He felt around and came across something familiar. It was small and round, and fit his hand.
A doorknob?
He wondered who had put a door out by the bushes. He tried to turn it, but nothing happened. He felt around some more and came across a light switch. He flicked it on and was momentarily blinded while his eyes adjusted.
When he could see again, he couldn’t believe what he saw. He was in a large bedroom. Chris and his other friends were lying on the floor, unconscious. On the bed were several dolls.
He tried to wake his friends, but they were sleeping too deeply.
There were two other doors in the room, but they both led to closets. As he was exploring the room, Johnny noticed a green glow coming from outside. He went to the window and looked out, but he didn’t see the light.
The night was cloudy, and storm clouds were brewing. He could see the tree and the front yard. He tried to think how they had gotten into the bedroom, and how long they had been there. He went back to the first door he had tried and jimmied it open with his Swiss army knife.
The door clicked open and creaked just a little bit. He winced at the sound, then stepped into the hallway and clicked the door shut again.
The hallway was long with several other doors leading off of it. There was a beautiful rug that ran the length of the hallway. It was decorated with patterns of red and gold. At first, it looked pristine and beautiful, but after a second look, he saw the colors were faded, with stains here and there and frayed edges.
He tried the next door, and was surprised that it opened. He peeked inside but the room was pitch black, and Johnny debated if he should risk turning on the light.
As is so often the case, curiosity overwhelms common sense. Johnny flipped on the light switch and found himself in a room that looked nearly identical to the room he had just escaped from. As he looked around, something caught his eye. The dolls on the bed were similar to the ones in the other room, the only difference was their clothes.
They looked like outcasts from the seventies. The striped t-shirts, the boot cut pants, and the shaggy hairdoos. Something else bothered him about the dolls. It was the eyes, they were just too real. He picked one up and it was heavier than he expected.
He stood mesmerized, staring into the doll’s eyes. A boom of thunder startled him so much that he quickly turned to see what it was. When he did, the doll dropped out of his hands and hit the corner of the bed stand.
Johnny quickly put the doll back on the bed and left the room, never seeing the small spot of red on the doll’s back where it had hit the bed stand.
Johnny backed into the hallway as quietly as possible, when the house exploded with sound and light. Johnny fell to the floor and crapped his pants.
He covered his eyes and waited for his doom. The house became still again, as he opened his eyes and peeked between his fingers.
He was still alive. He had not been magically transported to hell or blown into tiny pieces. Once again there was a blinding flash. This time, the thunder rolled a few seconds later, making the house tremble.
Realizing what had happened, Johnny cursed himself for being so jittery. He searched through the rooms, looking for a clean pair of pants. He found something that he thought would fit, then got cleaned up in the bathroom.
Looking at himself in the bathroom’s full length mirror, he shook his head. The top looked fine, a leather jacket over a Metallica T-shirt. The boots were okay too, wearing tan work boots. In between was the problem. He had found a pair of white pants that weren’t quite long enough to reach his knees, and had frilly cuffs.
Having no pockets in these pants, he transferred everything from his jeans to his jacket. He crept down the large, circular staircase, taking notice of the huge chandelier. It must have been breathtaking fifty years ago, now it was just a sad shadow of its former self.
The once shiny brass was now tarnished. Out of the hundreds of lights that used to shine brightly, lighting upstairs and down, only three bulbs were now lit. The weak light, and cobwebs that had encompassed it, created a sense of gloom.
Lightning flashed again, casting strange shadows over the hallway. Johnny reached the bottom of the staircase, and heard footsteps approaching.
He froze. Scanning the hallway, he saw no hiding places. He ran to the front door, and found it locked. He turned and saw a giant grizzly bear lunging at him. Startled, he took a step back. Then he realized it was stuffed.
It stood eight feet tall, with teeth exposed and claws outstretched, as if attacking. With no place else to go, he tried to move the bear, but it was too heavy.
The footsteps got closer.
In desperation, he dove between the bear’s legs, and shimmied up behind it.
This bear must’ve been here forever.
Johnny thought, looking around at the cobwebs that he had ripped down to make room for his hiding place.
Johnny felt exposed as the old woman walked down the hallway, straight towards him. She was carrying a large tray with several bowls on it. She turned and started up the stairs, balancing the tray with ease. Just before she mounted the first step, Johnny swore he saw her look straight at him and give the slightest of grins.
***
Chris woke before the rest. He looked around but didn’t see Johnny anywhere. Just then, the old woman entered the bedroom carrying the tray. She seemed surprised to see Chris awake.
“Are you feeling better young man?” she said in a voice that sounded much softer and melodious than Chris expected.
“What did you do to us?” Chris demanded.
“Me? Not much, just save your life.”
Chris rubbed his eyes, making sure he was fully awake.
“What are you talking about?”
“A bolt of lightning hit the bushes you boys were hiding behind. It knocked me down, it was that close. When I was able to get up, I came over to check on you boys. The others were merely unconscious, but you weren’t breathing. I had to give you mouth to mouth.”
Chris looked at that wrinkled face, and imagined her old, wrinkled lips pressed against his, he suppressed a shudder.
“I guess I should thank you,” he said hesitantly.
“You’re very welcome young man,” she said smiling, revealing several rotting and missing teeth. “It was my pleasure.”
She winked at Chris as he fought back a sudden wave of nausea.
The other boys began to stir. They got up and began asking the same questions Chris had. She patiently answered them all, as Chris looked out the window.
It was still dark, with no trace of morning twilight at all. Chris thought it couldn’t have been more than one or two o’clock in the morning. Then a revelation slapped him across the face. The yard was clean!
There was nothing in the trees, nothing on the porch. No eggs, no corn, no TP anywhere.
Something’s wrong, there’s no way she could’ve cleaned up that fast.
She suddenly looked at him, as though peering straight into his mind and reading his thoughts.
“What’s the matter, sonny?” she said with a smile. “you look like you just seen a ghost.”
“How did …?”
“I clean up so fast?” she said, finishing his sentence. “That’s easy, I didn’t. You boys have been unconscious for nearly a day now.”
“That’s not possible,” Chris said slowly.
“Young man, I believe you may be in shock, why don’t you sit down.”
Chris sat in a comfortable chair that he didn’t remember seeing before. He tried to run through the facts in his head, but his thoughts seemed fuzzy, and he couldn’t focus.
“I brought you boys some stew. I knew you hadn’t eaten in a while, and I thought you might be hungry.”
She handed them each a warm bowl and a spoon. None of them realized how hungry they were until they smelled the wonderful aroma coming from the bowls.
They hungrily dove into the delicious white gravy and morsels in the bowls. They finished their meals and asked for more, which she graciously provided.
Chris was starting to feel a tug at his conscience.
She’s not so bad. Maybe we’re wrong to pick on her so much. Maybe we should skip the tradition next Halloween.
The old woman dished out four more bowls of stew, which the boys devoured.
“This is delicious,” Chris said. “What’s in it?”
“Well it’s sort of a Halloween tradition in this house,” she started. “I fill a kettle halfway up with water, add some spices, then put in my main ingredients. Corn, Eggs, Toilet paper, and whatever else I find laying around the porch.”
She smiled at Chris.
The boys each turned a different shade of green and vomited.
“Isn’t this fun?” she said with a maniacal grin. “We should do this every year. Next let’s play a game.”
“A game?!?” Chris spat.
“Yes. This game is called, ‘Guess what I’m going to do next.’” She said, pulling a wand out of her pocket.
Chris’s eyes grew wide as he realized he had seen that wand in her hand right before the ‘Lightning’ had struck. They froze in horror as a green glow emanated from the wand, shrinking their bodies smaller and smaller.
An instant later, four new dolls appeared on the bed. They were dressed exactly the same as the boys had been, and had the same look of confusion and panic in their eyes.
She looked at the dolls and smiled.
“Happy Halloween boys.”
***
After she had disappeared up the stairs, Johnny wiggled back out of his hiding place. While brushing himself off, he noticed several spiders had been crawling on him. Having quite a spider phobia, Johnny did a comical little dance while trying to rip his jacket off.
Spiders fell to the floor left and right, while he brushed himself off. Every spider that fell, Johnny crushed with his boot. When he was satisfied that none were left on him, he bent down to see what kind of spider they were. They were black, with thin legs. On the large round body of each spider was what looked like a red hourglass.
Johnny panicked and ran, leaving his coat behind. At the end of the hallway he stopped and stared at the three doors facing him. Before he could decide which door to take, the decision was taken out of his hands.
The wonderful aroma of food reached out from behind the door to the left, and pulled him in. He found himself in a large kitchen, with an open fireplace in the middle of it. Something was cooking inside the large hanging pot.
He looked in at the creamy white gravy, bubbling with dumplings in it. He poured himself a bowl, and began eating. After the first bite, he went straight to devouring, it tasted so good. He looked around while he was eating, and saw a cookbook sitting open. It was handwritten, and the recipe it was on said,
‘Halloween Revenge’.
That’s a strange name for a recipe.
Then he began to read the ingredients. His eyes getting wider with each sentence. When he was done, he forced himself to vomit. Remembering the tray of soup bowls, Johnny ran upstairs.
Johnny burst through the bedroom door just in time to see a green light envelope his friends. He watched in horror as they shrunk smaller and smaller, until they were just dolls lying on the floor.
“No!” he screamed.
The old woman whipped around to face him.
“Why are you wearing my underpants?” she said.
“Umm …I had an accident,” he said.
They looked at each other awkwardly.
She pointed her wand at him and smiled. Before he could say or do anything, he was enveloped in green light. She magically tied him to a chair.
“You must be the leader,” she said.
He couldn’t move or speak.
“…the one who couldn’t just prank and run,” she said, circling him.
“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” she growled.
She looked as though she was on the borderline between uncontrollable rage and bursting into tears. She saw his eyes looking at the dolls.
“Which one of these was your best friend?”
She hovered her hand over each of the dolls, stopping at Chris.
“Let’s go with this one.”
She laid the doll on the bed where he could see it, then produced a wicked looking knife.
“These dolls are quite unique,” she said. “The person trapped inside can see …”
She waved the knife in front of the doll’s eyes.
“Hear …”
She tapped the knife against the doll’s ear.
“And feel, everything.”
She smiled a wicked smile at Johnny, then plunged the knife into the doll’s chest, causing its clothes to rapidly turn red.
“The thing about it is, even though they can feel everything, they are helpless to react. Can you even imagine how that feels?”
She knew that he knew exactly how that felt. He also was trapped inside his own body, unable to move. All he could do was watch and listen.
“Ooh, I’ll bet that hurt,” she said, as she cut the doll’s right arm off. “By the way, that’s his real blood.”
Johnny was beyond enraged as he watched the blood flow out of the doll’s body. He imagined himself holding the knife, and doing to her all the things she had done, and more.
As if she could sense his rage, it fueled her into mania. She wildly slashed, stabbed, and tore at every doll in the room. Blood splattered everywhere as she rampaged on and on. Finally, exhausted, she stopped and stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard and covered in blood. She smiled as she surveyed the carnage.
“Mother always told us if we didn’t take care of our toys, someday we wouldn’t have them.” said a voice behind her, “I guess you didn’t heed that warning.”
The old lady whipped around impossibly fast.
“You startled me, sister,” she said.
The visitor looked at what remained of the dolls.
“I see you’ve added to your collection.”
“More rowdy kids, I don’t expect they’ll be missed.”
“Like our sister wasn’t missed?” the visitor said.
“I told you before, she shouldn’t have interfered.”
“And you shouldn’t have turned on her.”
“I take care of her!” the old woman raged. “These young punks keep throwing toilet paper at her!”
“If you hadn’t turned her into a tree, she wouldn’t be there for them to throw at!”
“So, what’s your point? That this is completely my fault?”
“I can’t allow you to keep doing this,” the visitor said. “It makes more work for me to cover it up.”
“These kids had to be punished!”
“There are other forms of punishment.”
The old lady eyed her suspiciously.
“Why are you here?”
The visitor sighed.
“To punish you.”
The old lady’s wand came up in a flash, but the visitor was prepared. A brilliant orange light flashed out of her own wand before the old lady could aim hers. Her scream slowly diminished, as her body dissolved in an orange glow.
Outside in the yard, a new tree grew taller by the second. When it finally stopped, it was fully grown, almost an identical match to the other tree, already in the yard.
“I’m sorry, sister,” the visitor said sadly.
***
The woman came back inside, picked up her sister’s wand, and released Johnny.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.
Johnny looked like he wanted to beat the hell out of her, but seeing the wand in her hand made him think twice.
“My loss?” he said. “You mean your psychotic sister murdering my friends?”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Don’t pretend to be blameless in this, boy! It was you, and others like you who pushed her to this madness.”
“Would you compare toilet paper to blood?” he said, pointing at the dismembered dolls.
She sighed and bowed her head.
“Come with me,” she said.
He looked at her with equal parts anger and fear.
“I want to show you what I go through to protect you people every time this happens,” she said, walking out of the room.
He hesitated, then followed out of curiosity.
“What did you mean, ‘every time this happens’?” he asked.
She pretended not to hear him as she unlocked the front door.
They walked straight to Chris’ house.
Johnny swallowed hard.
“Are we here to tell Chris’ parents what happened?” he asked.
“Something like that.”
She pointed her wand at the lock, which glowed orange, and they walked in. Chris’ parents were sitting on the couch when she zapped them. As they sat wide-eyed, and glowing orange, she began mumbling.
“What are you doing?” Johnny asked.
“I’m telling them they never had a son named Chris.”
“What?”
“It’s the only way.”
Before he could protest, she walked up the stairs to Chris’ room, and pointed her wand at it. It started to shake, and then folded in on itself like a cardboard box. Everything inside simply ceased to exist. The door disappeared as well. The wall simply smoothed over the opening, and Chris Connors was no more.
Johnny was devastated. Back downstairs, she made one final statement to the parents.
“The old house on the hill,fear it, avoid it, have nothing to do with it.”
Then they glowed orange one last time, implanting the thought in their subconscious. When she felt the thought had taken root, she turned and left.
“Wait a minute,“ he said, following her. “That’s it? You just walk in and tell them they never had a son?“
“Would you rather I just murdered them, and put the gun in your hand?“ she said with cool detachment, as if she had just asked if he preferred coffee or tea.
“No, I suppose not,“ he said, as she turned and continued up the street.
Johnny was too upset to do anything but follow her. As they walked away, he glanced back at the house. He could see where Chris’ room should have been. It looked like it had just been cut out with a giant knife. The siding over it looked perfect, as if the room never existed. But in Johnny’s mind the house just looked wrong.
As they walked, he noticed several other houses that had that same look, like something was just off. They repeated the whole process three more times, before walking back to Johnny’s house.
Even though they must have walked for hours, Johnny didn’t feel tired. It didn’t seem to be getting any closer to daylight either. They stopped right in front of his house.
“So now we come to a point where I have to make a choice,” she said.
“What choice?” he said, not liking the sound of this.
“Do I do to you what my sister did to Chris, your friends, and hundreds of other children over the years, or do I simply erase your memory and let you scamper away?”
All during the evening, Johnny had been holding the line between fear and rage. When she made this statement, the rage melted away like butter in a microwave.
“I’ve always been good at scampering,” he said.
She pointed her wand at him and smiled.
***
Johnny walked past the living room, on his way to bed. He was exhausted, but not sure why.
“Where have you been?” his mom said. “It’s almost one in the morning.”
“I’ve been …” He trailed off, trying to remember.
“You were out corning again, weren’t you?” she asked. “You’re gonna get arrested one of these days.”
“No, I didn’t go corning,” he said. “I hate doing that crap.”
He had made that statement to her many times over the years, this time it was actually true.
***
“So, what do you think of my story kiddies?” the old woman said. “Did you like it?”
Five boys, ages ten to twelve, stared at her with blank faces.
The oldest boy quietly said, “We’re sorry about the toilet paper.”
“Think nothing of it,” she smiled. “It’s Halloween, and boys will be boys.”
She turned and reached behind her.
“Have some stew. It’s a recipe I got from my sister.”
They looked at the bowl of white gravy, with corn, and other chunks floating in it, then ran out the door, screaming.
She walked into the front yard, leaned against one of the trees, and said. “You see sister, other forms of punishment.”
As if to answer, the tree creaked and groaned.