Trick or Treats? A Halloween Memory

by

Cherie Von Rosen

Soft, warm summer evenings have been replaced by cooler ones. The air is sharper and soon leaves will turn a golden hue and float weightlessly to the ground - a clear sign that fall has arrived. The lingering sweetness of wood burning in nearby fireplaces brings back childhood memories of scary faces carved in pumpkins and the spicy aroma of hot apple cider.

I waited in line at the drug store the other day and the early display of rubberized ghosts and goblins caught my eye - or was it early? The leaves had just begun to change and now it seemed the holidays were coming on. Fall had arrived in all its glory and Halloween wasn't far behind.

I mindlessly counted the shopping days till Christmas and headed to the car. A cool breeze brushed across my face - I thought of my sister in the Pacific Northwest and smiled. We grew up in a small town filled with summer picnics in the park, swimming at the local pool, and after dark we roller skated on the tennis courts. Halloween was Kay's favorite holiday and she planned her costume early - always a version of Dracula and me a ghost.

In 1958 Kay was ten and I the youngest, was eight. At the first sign of dusk we watched our block swell with kids; a collage of goblins, witches and zombies - all of various sizes. The still night air was filled with laughter and barking dogs when we took our rightful place among the revelers - Kay held the lantern. The scent of hot chocolate led us to Mr. Sullivan's house. None of us knew the Sullivan's well; they were older, but we joyfully accepted the delicious chocolate without question. Our thoughts focused on the pure joy of being frightened and how much candy we could gather.

James and Liz tagged along as we made our rounds - they lived across the street. He was Kay's age and Liz, his younger sister was only five, but James took her everywhere. When you saw James he usually had the hand of his baby sister.

"Let's go down to the old house and see if any lights are on," James said. The evening was winding down and soon we had to head home.

James referred to the vacant house set back on a large lot where our neighborhood dead ended - we weren't allowed to go near the house since old lady Schumacher died. Stories circulated around town after she was found dead on the sun porch, upright in her rocker dressed in night clothes. Some folks believed the house was haunted by her spirit - on occasion a light could be seen from the second story window. No one had occupied the old, run-down house in years and the once pristine white paint had peeled back and weeds overtook the pretty flower beds that ran along the fence. I recall how I used to admire the two-story house before Mrs. Schumacher died - I thought it was lovely. The room over the balcony would be mine and I'd watch the first snow fall cover the street below. But there was no snow on that night, only the pumpkins had a touch of frost when Kay and I decided to disobey our mother.

Dracula, the ghost, James as a pirate, and little Liz as the princess all approached the white picket fence with caution. The latch was broken on the crooked gate - it easily swung open when James touched it. Much to our delight, the weathered, dry hinges screeched in the still, dark air. With the possible exception of Liz, we all knew the story of the dead woman in her second story sun room - a glassed-in porch off her bedroom where she rocked until her death. Townspeople said if one dared to get close enough you could still hear the floor boards creak.

"Come on!" Kay called to me as she stood at the base of the porch. I hung back by the gate, suddenly frightened by the thought of a dead person. "Don't be a baby," that's all she had to say - I headed in.

Our little foursome had never been this close to the house and our hearts beat faster with each timid step. James turned the tarnished gold knob on the glass laden front door and to our surprise, it opened. He stepped inside and motioned for us to follow - we did without making a sound. I vividly recall the shiver that ran down my spine - make no mistake, I was frightened to death. I leaned toward Kay and whispered, "Mom's going to kill us." She didn't answer, only reached for my hand - my big sister was frightened too.

"Stay together and follow me," James, the self-appointed leader ordered. With the pirate in front and the ghost trailing, we ascended up the wooden stairs with only a faint moonlight to guide us - each step brought a labored groan from the old staircase under our tiny feet. We crept down the ink dark hallway and without warning, James turned and shouted, "Run for your lives!" Everyone scrambled. We bumped into each other and became disoriented as we tried to escape. I tripped on my white sheet, the ghost costume my mother had so carefully sewn. Alone in the dark and stunned, I sat on the cold wood floor and listened to the other's voices fade in the distance.

Out of nowhere, a soft glow appeared behind me. The icy cold air surrounded my body and someone, or something, gripped my shoulders and gently lifted me to my feet. I felt the touch ever so lightly as fear turned to calm. Together we moved to the top of the stairs and started down, one step at a time. When we reached the open door I felt a slight pressure move me forward and I stepped over the threshold - the door closed behind me.

With my fright eased, I glanced back out of curiosity and saw what appeared to be a ball of light rise up the steep steps and disappear into the darkness. I stood alone on the porch of the haunted house that no one dared to enter. I felt brave. Through the shadows I could see the open gate and made my way to the cracked pavement beyond. Kay ran toward me and grabbed my arm - James and Liz were already out of sight. She pulled the sheet off over my head and we ran home as if the devil were at our heels - Kay never let go of my hand. We were already late and her only fear was our mother's wrath.

Safe and warm in our own room, I relived the entire experience with Kay in great detail. She was silent for a few minutes then turned away. "Don't tell Mom," was all she said.

I never knew if Kay believed my story but I do know my mother never found out we visited the haunted house. I can still feel the cool, gentle hands pulling me up. The old woman helped me find my way in the dark that fateful night - for that I was certain.