Happy Friday! I finished all my morning running amok and am prepared to attempt another short story keeping with the challenge set by the Midnight Society, which you can read here and JOIN IN THE FUN!
Today’s word… drumrollllllll …
And how the heck is that scary? A sugar high? Cavities at the next dental visit? As frightening as the thought of drills and gloved hands sticking needles in my gums are, I think I’ll go a different direction. Let’s see where my twisted mind goes… shall we?
Dark eyes stare at me through the holes of my mask. Black eyes. Frantic eyes.
“Trick-or-treat.” The whisper sends shivers racing along my spine.
I tug the mask from my face, the cool air a shock.
An old woman shifts nervously on her feet, her shoulders hunched, a plastic pitchfork clutched in one hand. Devil horns peek out of her wispy white hair. “Trick-or-treat.” An evil cackle trickles from her parched lips. She extends a shaky arm clad in red and holds out a piece of candy.
“Thanks?” As I hesitantly reach out to take her offering, her other hand closes on my wrist. Cold as ice, her touch stops my heart for a moment.
“Trick-or-treat,” she says. “Forever.”
She spins and runs down the street, her tattered crimson cape flapping.
“Whatever, crazy lady.” With a shudder, I toss the candy in the street and continue home. After a few steps, my stomach clenches. Costumed kids race along the sidewalk, pillowcases and plastic pumpkins full of candy bouncing against their legs.
Candy. My stomach roars. My tongue licks my lips. A desire for sugar spirals through my mind.
Trick-or-treat… the phrase creeps through the air.
I spin towards the sound and gaze down a street, one I don’t remember having seen on my numerous trips along this route.
Front porch lights gleam like beacons.
All sound ceases when I set foot on the street. Behind me, houses draped in fog stretch in neat rows along the cracked street. A single light blazes by each front door. My heart pounds as I spin. Around and around, the same scene – an unending street.
“Trick-or-treat,” I mutter.
My stomach groans, the need for candy gripping my mind.
I turn to the house to my left. The porch light draws me like the scent of sin does the devil.
“Trick-or-treat,” I whisper and creep up the stairs. A skeletal hand drops a candy bar into my waiting palm. I devour it, the growling demon in my belly satisfied for only a moment before my desire returns.
I race to the next house and the next. Never enough. Need consumes my every thought. Candy. On and on I go. The dark street never ends. The lights never go out.
Whew. That one took something out of me. I had the image of how it ended in my mind, but that beginning! I just had no idea where it started. If this story doesn’t work for you, it would be because the struggle got in the way of the words. Can I keep this up for the rest of the month?
Will you miss the words if I stumble on my journey?