Orange flames guide the spirits home while dead ones, invite them into yours. My hometown has always had a tradition on the night of Halloween. Keep a lit candle outside your door and the spirits will follow them home to the cemetery at the end of town. It’s a fun tradition to tell your kids on Halloween and it sets the mood to see the road glow with flickering orange. It certainly added to my trick-or-treating experience growing up, but the tradition grew old, as did I.
My parents left town for a couple of days, so I decided I’d house sit for them. I could use a break from big-city life. The hustle of the concrete jungle was beginning to wear heavy on my mental health. A nostalgic stay at home and a couple of nights watching spooky movies was just the vacation I needed. My parents left the night before Halloween, and I arrived shortly after.
The sun was beginning to set as I drove into my old neighborhood. The road is lined with terrifying fabric and plastic decorations. I never realized how much the neighborhood celebrated the holiday until I had left. Similar spooky staples decorated the homes: carved pumpkins, impossible to put on (and take off) cotton spider-webs, and the occasional witch-that-flew-into-a-tree. As well, each house had a glowing candle outside the door. Small flames danced in the breeze, their hue matching the yellow-orange evening sun. With the warm feeling of fall embracing me, I began thinking of which movie to watch first.
Arriving at the house, childhood memories flooded me. It had been a while since I moved out, but I’ve only visited since then, not stayed overnight. Walking up the decorative stone path, I followed the same pattern I walked as a kid. Stepping on the first three stones, then skipped every other, and gently touched the wind chimes on the right near the edge of the garden with my fingers. Swinging the screen door open, a gust flickered the nearly extinguished candle my mom set out for Halloween. It was on a Monday this year, but the whole neighborhood would usually have candles out before. Nudging the door open, the familiar aroma of the old house greeted me.
Settling in, I tossed my bag on the couch and headed toward the kitchen. On the fridge was a note.
“Hey, honey! Like I told you already, there are some leftovers in the fridge and money on the counter for delivery so, help yourself! Your father and I will be back Tuesday morning. Kids usually show up by 6 or sundown, candy is in the snack cabinet, and I left more candles in the entryway drawer. I know you know, but don’t forget to light a fresh candle when one goes out! Also, I left a little surprise for you on the coffee table in the den! – Love, Mom”
Peering around the corner, the drawer of the small entry table was slightly ajar. Honestly, I wasn’t so sure if I was going to hand out candy at all. Opening the cabinet, I saw a giant bag of mixed goodies and thought, “Nah, kids hate candy. But these would go very well with some horror movies!” I finished dinner and sat on the couch to begin the first movie of the weekend, The Shining. Exhaustion from the long drive settled in, and I drifted off to sleep.
Peering through eye holes, faint reds, oranges, and yellows blur together, surrounded by darkness. Orange illuminations on either side guided me toward a familiar place. Hazy at first, it became clearer it was my old neighborhood. Not in control of where I was being led, merely a spectator, I veered off the orange-lit path to a dark spot in between the glowing orange. Silence and darkness embraced me; I could only see black. The muffled sound of wind chimes rang beside me, and a door appeared, inches in front of me. The door handle turned slowly, so as not to make a sound, and I floated into the void of the home…
SLAM!
I jolted awake.
The TV remote flew off my leg as I sprang to my feet. The dream was so vivid that I looked back at the front door. It was closed. The DVD replayed an endless loop of the menu, so I reached for the remote. Rubbing my eyes, I turned off the TV and walked toward the front door and opened it. A flash of morning sun struck my face and the sound of kids playing a few houses over could be heard over the rustling of leaves in the wind. A newspaper lay on the step before me. Next to it, a puddle of wax that had dried below the burnt-out candle. The withered wick was cold to the touch, having gone out well before morning. Tossing the paper on the entry table, I pulled out a new candle and stuck it onto the holder outside. With the stroke of a match, I perched a bright flame atop the new stick of wax.
I spent the day walking the neighborhood, yard, and house. Grey skies hung overhead, accompanying my mood as I reflected on memories good, bad, and ones I forgot. Forgotten memories never hit when you expect them, or sometimes want them. The feeling of having lost your sense of youth and innocence is both delightful and heartbreaking, if not distressing. The essence of Halloween only compliments these, so when I stepped back into the house and noticed the ‘surprise’ my mom had left, I was ecstatically somber. Lying on the coffee table was a DVD labeled, “Family Halloween”. A collection of home videos taken by my parents over the years.
My eyes widened with excitement. This just moved to first on my list of spooky movies for tonight! The sun was going down soon so I grabbed the bag of candy, silenced my phone, turned the porch light off so knocking trick-or-treaters wouldn’t scare the hell out of me and settled onto the couch. Besides the home movie, I had some of my favorites I hadn’t seen in a while lined up, including The Thing, It Follows, Alien, and The Evil Dead trilogy- tossed in for good measure.
Popping in the disk, I hit play and sat the candy beside me on the couch. The screen flickered alive and, there I was. In a mummy outfit patrolling the streets filled with children in costumes, eager to get their fair share of candy. My dad was filming, encouraging me to run up to the next house. In the background, I could see all sorts of dated costumes and classic decorations. The ’90s were showing its age. One kid was dressed as Ghostface from Scream, another just stood there off to the side decorated in zombie face paint and a fake dismembered leg in one hand. An old friend of mine, wearing a raggedy bed sheet with holes sloppily cut for eyes ran excitedly towards me saying hi. I hadn’t thought about Dan in a long time.
The video cut to a Halloween party at our house. My mom was running around making sure everyone was having fun. The Monster Mash played over the kitchen radio and people in costume talked and danced in the living room. I sat in the corner, in what I thought was a pretty convincing vampire costume, playing a game of scrabble with another kid dressed in a sheet with the eyes cut out. Must’ve been Dan again. I grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. That was enough nostalgia for one night. Rubbing my eyes, I decided to pop in a horror flick instead.
Looking over the collection of movies by the entertainment center, I noticed something in the reflection of the TV screen. A dirty matted sheet with crudely cut eyes stood in the corner of the room. Quickly I turned but, it was gone. In the corner was a small card table my parents would do puzzles or play board games on. Set up on the table was a game of scrabble, already in session. My heart still racing, I walked through the dark room and looked over the pieces laid out on the board. The only words I could read from the scattered pieces were, “HELP BASEMENT”.
KSHEEEEEE
The TV exploded with static at full volume. I covered my ears and backed toward the wall. The image of the basement leaked through distorted saturation and contrast. There, framed in the middle, was the dirt-covered sheet, inches off the ground. Its empty eye sockets stared into me. The loud static of the TV was then slowly replaced with that of an awful screech, an unnatural cry of terror. A roar erupted from outside, and I woke up on the couch where I had sat.
Lightening danced along the living walls and thunder clashed. The remote lay beside me on the couch and the TV was off. Nothing stood behind me in the reflection of the TV, not even the light from the candle outside. I stood and walked over to the door. Passing the empty card table, I couldn’t recall if rain had ever fallen on Halloween before. Opening the door, I looked around the neighborhood. The last couple of candles were going out from the heavy wind and rain. No one was out trick-or-treating, and everyone’s lights were off. I must have been out for a few hours. Slamming the door shut, I fumbled for a new candle in the entry table drawer. Grabbing a fresh one out of a pack and a box of matches, my feet rumbled on the floor beneath me. Something fell in the basement.
Thunder roared outside as I made my way to the basement door. Grabbing the cold handle, I swung it open and flipped on the light switch. No power. I held a candle in one hand and struck a match with the other. The flame engulfed the wick, and the first few steps of the stairs unveiled themselves in front of me. Slowly, I walked down the steps. The boards creaking and moaning, echoing off the concrete walls and floor of the pitch-black storage area. Stepping across the cold floor, a lightning flash every so often revealed a fallen-over rack of totes in the far corner.
Memories sprawled, from pictures to nick-knacks, across the ground. My candlelight reflected off glass and plastic, and I could see it was stuff from my childhood. Old toys, trophies, and pictures; most obviously laid out, a picture of myself and Dan. He wasn’t wearing the costume of course; it was just us. Playing together outside after a baseball game. I had nearly forgotten what he looked like. It had been so long. This must have been one of the last pictures of us taken. I think it was even that summer, when he died. The flame quivered slightly on my candle, and the sound of soft leather pattered across the floor towards me. A baseball bumped against my shoe, rolling back slightly. Raising my arm, the candlelight climbed the dirt-encrusted bottom of a white sheet. The swaying fabric stood upright before me, nearly six feet tall, holes jaggedly cut for eyes.
I screamed and stumbled backward, dropping to the ground. The candle went out and I sat still, trying to catch my breath. Nothing was in the room beside a tattered sheet, now puddled to the floor.
Lightening illuminated the room and for that second, a translucent figure stood in the center. A torn old bed sheet- floating, inches above the ground. The black void of its eye holes gazing at me. It vanished when the lightning was gone, only to appear when the light burst again from outside. I struck a match and lit the candle. The flame revealed it completely in front of me.
“…Dan?”
The figure’s head cocked slightly to the side. I stared for a moment, not believing my eyes. I didn’t feel in danger, I felt like it just wanted to say, hi. But the matted cloth before me, floating and fading in and out of transparency- I wasn’t wanting to stay in the same room anymore. From outside, a deafening unnatural scream wailed.
‘Orange flames guide the spirits home…’, I thought.
The entire neighborhood’s candles were out, and while the ghost of Dan seemed friendly, not all were expected to be. It’s too late to light every candle that went out. Spirits have already begun to enter people’s homes. I took one step before a loud banging from upstairs stopped me dead in my tracks.
Boom…Boom…Crash!
The sound of wood and nail spilling onto the floor rained above me. All I knew about the tradition was that candles guided the spirits to the cemetery. I never heard anything about what would happen if they found you. I don’t know how but, I have to get to the cemetery. Now. I grabbed an old duffel bag off a storage shelf and batted off the dust. Opening it, I stuffed in the package of candles, box of matches, and the picture of Dan and myself. Running for the stairs my feet became entangled in the old sheet on the ground. Of course. Stuffing the sheet into the bag as I ran for the stairs, lightning struck and the tattered six-foot-tall spirit appeared in the light, following my candle closely.
Bolting through the kitchen, I stopped midway between the front and back doors. Lightning flashed through the remains of the broken-down front door. With every flash of light, the body of something mangled and dark began peering around the corner from the living room. Another spirit has welcomed itself into the home. A low snarl crackled from the grinning being and I quickly turned, running for the back door. As I burst outside and into the rain, I hear the ear-piercing shrill from whatever stood in the living room. As I veered the corner of the house, the back door exploded open.
The cemetery was just west of here, hardly half a mile. My shoes filled with moisture as I stumbled through the slippery grass. All around me echoed screams of terror both, unearthly, and of the neighbors. Windows were breaking, families screaming and with every flash of lightning, spirits both dark and light were revealed roaming the streets amidst the confusion. I made it to the sidewalk and realized how dark it was. My candle was out. Panicking, I reached into the duffel bag and pulled out the sheet, tossing it over myself. Holding up a corner for cover, I lit a new candle. I jumped as the towering figure stood right next to me, waiting for guidance. Before I could take another step, I was overwhelmed with fear, as all the screaming stopped. Everything. Went. Quiet.
I took a deep breath… and started running. Hardly two steps and the bellow of hundreds of after-life beings roared over the sound of thunder. All of them, following my candlelight. Step after step, the trembling flame revealed spirits so terrifying, I began screaming as hard as I ran. Things missing limbs and contoured spider-like bodies crept in the grass. Puss oozing deformities clawed their way in my direction and with every strike of lightning, new and more horrifying things came into existence. Small tugs on the sheet I held above me weighed me down and threw off my footing. Nearly falling, I held the cloth tightly; the sound of tearing fabric behind me. Buried in the mix of spirits surrounding me, I would often see another tall sheet, floating carelessly. Slowly, they’d turn toward my light and follow, hopeful for a place to go.
My legs were numb, and I could hardly breathe. The bottoms of my pants were shredded, matted with blood and rain. I hadn’t noticed the slight cuts being dug into my limbs by the pursuing spirits. The intersection just before the cemetery appeared, and lightning lit the sign.
Hollows Hold Grove, flashed before my eyes.
I skated across dirt and stone, entering the iron gates. They creaked loudly from rust and rain but when I entered the stone perimeter, all sound seized. The storm crashed around me still, but inside was quiet. Swimming through the air, hundreds of translucent phantasmic beings soared into the cemetery, vanishing into the dark. The rumble of the storm and patter of rain slowly rose over the screams of the dead.
Hunching over, my body ached and wheezed, choking on exhaustion. The duffel bag slung off my shoulder and I tossed the sheet onto the ground. I sat for a moment collecting myself, feeling the cold rain beading onto me. I rose my head and looked around the cemetery. I hadn’t been in this cemetery since I was a kid. While I could never have described the layout before tonight, sitting here now, I knew right where I was. From the entrance, I go three rows down, then skip every other grave to the right, until…
Grabbing the bag and sheet, I walked over to the plot. I stood in front of it for a while, then pulled the photograph and a candle out of the duffel bag. I hadn’t thought about Dan in a long time. I didn’t forget about him. It was just- hard to remember. I lit the candle and placed it beside the tombstone, then rested the picture at the bottom. As I stood, the tattered cloth of the six-foot-figure stood beside me, slowly fading away. Turning around, I too, went home.