“Brandon says your house is haunted.”
“Jason!” His mother grabbed at his shoulder and half dragged him off the porch. “Thank you!”
The princess ran after them into the night.
I sagged against the doorway.
Haunted? Perhaps.
There was always the possibility that my house was inhabited by the restless spirit of some murder victim. But what were the chances, really? Other than a vague glance over my shoulder now and then, I hadn’t given the ghost another thought. Nor had the apparition shown itself again. True, I hadn’t been in the basement since the day of my “vision,” and neither had anyone else. Lloyd had fed me one excuse after another for not getting to the job downstairs.
Most likely, what I’d seen was a result of my own guilty conscience projecting an image from my past onto the concrete, hoping I’d face up to my deeds.
Nah. Too Freud.
I watched through the storm door as another group of trick-or-treaters came up the sidewalk, wearing costumes that stood the test of time.
The five oversized kids gave their call in unison, then edged in toward the bowl. Hands hovered, then halted.
I definitely should have capitulated and gone with the standard sweets.
“Pencils?” the vampire asked through his fangs.
A vein in my neck throbbed. “Here. Try this one. It’s 3-D.”
He twisted it in his fingers. “Is it legal to pass this stuff out on Halloween?”
I lost my cool. “Aren’t you a little too old to be trick-or-treating? You’re lucky I let you stick your fingers in the bowl.”
“Sorry,” he moped, dropping a pencil into his bag. He backed off to make room for his friends.
A white-sheeted teen peered over my shoulder into the house.
“Have you seen it yet?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“Seen what?” I turned to look behind me.
“The ghost.”
A prickle crept up my scalp and raised the hair beneath the strips of cloth wound around my head.
Tish, Tish. I could almost hear a voice calling me, rising from the concrete, curving up the basement steps, seeping under the door and floating to my place in the vestibule.
Behind me, the kid let out a snort. “I’m just playing with you, lady. I’m the ghost. Get it? Man, you look like you thought your house was haunted or something.”
There was laughter. The bowl jostled in my hands. Then the porch was empty.
I clutched the Tupperware to my chest. Tears welled up and one of those big lumps stuck in my throat.
Life didn’t seem right anymore. I’d managed well enough in my other neighborhoods. Lonely, but content. I had felt, or maybe just hoped, that a change was coming with this move to Rawlings. But things were worse here. Now, even the kids taunted me.
I dabbed at a nasal drip with a dangling bandage.
In my side vision, a dark figure moved across the lawn toward the porch. Probably another rude kid looking for a handout.
It was David.
My face burned beneath my wraps as I tried to find a place to hide. I absolutely could not let him see me looking like the victim of some toilet paper prank.
“Hello,” he called from grass glistening in the light from the porch. “Is that you under all that tissue?”
There was no hiding now.
“Hi.” I tried to put a smile in my voice. “I’m just getting into the holiday.”
He sprang up the steps. “Are you The Mummy?”
I cleared my throat, trying to get the lump down to a manageable size before I croaked like a frog.
“Yeah. The Mummy.”
As soon as I said it, I felt like crawling into a tomb somewhere. Apparently my courage had escaped out the front door at the arrival of my adorable neighbor.
I gripped the Tupperware like a life preserver.
“What’s in the bowl?”
He was probably hoping for a candy bar too.
“Pencils.” The bowl started to shake in my grasp.
“Superb idea. Why rot the little angels’ teeth?”
My knuckles relaxed. At least someone agreed with my logic.
“You’re not passing out treats at your house?” I asked.
He
“Jason!” His mother grabbed at his shoulder and half dragged him off the porch. “Thank you!”
The princess ran after them into the night.
I sagged against the doorway.
Haunted? Perhaps.
There was always the possibility that my house was inhabited by the restless spirit of some murder victim. But what were the chances, really? Other than a vague glance over my shoulder now and then, I hadn’t given the ghost another thought. Nor had the apparition shown itself again. True, I hadn’t been in the basement since the day of my “vision,” and neither had anyone else. Lloyd had fed me one excuse after another for not getting to the job downstairs.
Most likely, what I’d seen was a result of my own guilty conscience projecting an image from my past onto the concrete, hoping I’d face up to my deeds.
Nah. Too Freud.
I watched through the storm door as another group of trick-or-treaters came up the sidewalk, wearing costumes that stood the test of time.
The five oversized kids gave their call in unison, then edged in toward the bowl. Hands hovered, then halted.
I definitely should have capitulated and gone with the standard sweets.
“Pencils?” the vampire asked through his fangs.
A vein in my neck throbbed. “Here. Try this one. It’s 3-D.”
He twisted it in his fingers. “Is it legal to pass this stuff out on Halloween?”
I lost my cool. “Aren’t you a little too old to be trick-or-treating? You’re lucky I let you stick your fingers in the bowl.”
“Sorry,” he moped, dropping a pencil into his bag. He backed off to make room for his friends.
A white-sheeted teen peered over my shoulder into the house.
“Have you seen it yet?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“Seen what?” I turned to look behind me.
“The ghost.”
A prickle crept up my scalp and raised the hair beneath the strips of cloth wound around my head.
Tish, Tish. I could almost hear a voice calling me, rising from the concrete, curving up the basement steps, seeping under the door and floating to my place in the vestibule.
Behind me, the kid let out a snort. “I’m just playing with you, lady. I’m the ghost. Get it? Man, you look like you thought your house was haunted or something.”
There was laughter. The bowl jostled in my hands. Then the porch was empty.
I clutched the Tupperware to my chest. Tears welled up and one of those big lumps stuck in my throat.
Life didn’t seem right anymore. I’d managed well enough in my other neighborhoods. Lonely, but content. I had felt, or maybe just hoped, that a change was coming with this move to Rawlings. But things were worse here. Now, even the kids taunted me.
I dabbed at a nasal drip with a dangling bandage.
In my side vision, a dark figure moved across the lawn toward the porch. Probably another rude kid looking for a handout.
It was David.
My face burned beneath my wraps as I tried to find a place to hide. I absolutely could not let him see me looking like the victim of some toilet paper prank.
“Hello,” he called from grass glistening in the light from the porch. “Is that you under all that tissue?”
There was no hiding now.
“Hi.” I tried to put a smile in my voice. “I’m just getting into the holiday.”
He sprang up the steps. “Are you The Mummy?”
I cleared my throat, trying to get the lump down to a manageable size before I croaked like a frog.
“Yeah. The Mummy.”
As soon as I said it, I felt like crawling into a tomb somewhere. Apparently my courage had escaped out the front door at the arrival of my adorable neighbor.
I gripped the Tupperware like a life preserver.
“What’s in the bowl?”
He was probably hoping for a candy bar too.
“Pencils.” The bowl started to shake in my grasp.
“Superb idea. Why rot the little angels’ teeth?”
My knuckles relaxed. At least someone agreed with my logic.
“You’re not passing out treats at your house?” I asked.
He
Similar Books
