Status Updates From October Nights

The Thing had swelled again, filling the room. Off to the side, lifted to the ceiling by tentacles around her neck, dangled Jessica. It laughed. Low, deep, and gurgling. With slow, measured strides It approached him, holding Jessica high in the air as she clawed and screamed silently. It spread its human arms wide in a mocking gesture, as if to embrace him, hissing in pleasure.

For some reason, Dad was sober that night, and took him Trick or Treating. Didn’t call A-Rod a “lazy-ass spic” once. Everyone greeted him by calling out, “Hey, A-Rod! Swing for the fences!” It felt like the greatest night of his life. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I remember.” “Of course you do. Because it’s Halloween. A night we can be anyone we want, and do anything.”

Then that day came. Kennsinger going nuts and rocketing a fastball straight into his face. Shattering his right cheekbone and eye socket. No way his mother (who’d taken off two years ago) could afford the expensive reconstruction surgery to make his face look normal again, so his face healed all wrong. Warped. Misshapen. No way he could play college sports with that kind of damage.

Seizure. His head jerked back and he spasmed. Somehow he knew his fingers were still locked onto Sasha’s shirt and that he was jerking the other man around, but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t force his fingers to unclench. From far away, he heard someone yell “911!” as strong hands grabbed his shoulders and tried to hold him still. Through it all, brilliant blue eyes blazed in the darkness that descended upon him.

When would they bring their plan to fruition? Halloween night. During the weeks leading up to Halloween, Josie began paying attention to the French boys. Flirting is what the older girls called it. Complimenting them on their appearance. Saying nice things to them. Even giving them long looks, like the women gave men long looks on television. The ghosts told her this was the best way to lure the boys to the mine.

But when the conductor—who had no face, just a blank expanse of glowing white flesh—took his hand, Edmund stood, and his pain and despair fell away. A numbing peace descended over him. He left with the conductor and boarded the midnight train. Some say he still rides it today, as the train returns every year on Halloween night, searching for lost souls to join him.

I got a brief glimpse of my jack-o’-lantern grinning a flickering red-orange into the night. I was overcome by a wash of nostalgia for something I’d never experienced. I wondered what it felt like to return home from a night of trick or treating to the welcoming warm glow of your jack-o’-lantern’s grin. I wondered if I would finally get to experience that welcome home tonight . . . if I returned.

Having never carved a pumpkin before, I was unprepared for the feel of its slimy, stringy inner matter sliding along my fingers. As I cut out eyes, nose, and worked on the mouth, in the background, Dr. Loomis expounded on the nature of pure evil and its unrelenting destructiveness.

I came across Spookies right away. A buxom blond in a white dress menaced by a dizzying array of monsters. The movie was labeled as a “night of unrelenting terror”. I took the box off the shelf and to the front desk, telling myself I was renting it for the “unrelenting terror” and not the buxom blond.

“Happy Halloween!” I raised a hand. “You too.” He nodded again and walked away. I put my head in my hands and kneaded my forehead with my fingertips. The various images of Lilly’s multiple deaths layered over one another, one bleeding into the next. Killed by every kind of monster possible. Zombies. Vampires. Witches. Occultists. Mad scientists. Werewolves. Ghosts. And the worst monsters of all: her parents.

My confusion must’ve shown on my face. He shifted, sat forward, and said, “The one I warned you about. Our local . . . conman.” “Ah. Jimmy Graves, you mean?” The man winced and sat back. He sighed heavily. “You need to take care, son. There’s some names which shouldn’t ever be spoken aloud, lightly.”

Did I ever stop my wife from bullying her own child? I did nothing. I didn’t show Lilly any visible support, either. I had my “ministry” to think about. Didn’t want to “wink at sin.” Had to show a “united front” with Beth. No discord could be allowed. Absolutely not. I did nothing. I chose to do nothing. Which made me more of a monster than all the evil children in every horror movie in existence.

Unfortunately, my nap didn’t prove restful. I dreamed again of Halloween night. This time, Beth and I were answering the door for Trick or Treaters, but we weren’t handing out candy. We were handing out Bible tracts—only the tract pages were sharp as razor blades. They slashed every Trick or Treater’s hand. Every Trick or Treater was Lilly.

His wording sounded odd, but I nodded. “Sure. Why not?” He slapped the outside of the car door. “Fantastic. I’ve got such sights to show you, my friend.” The car throbbed to life. He raised the window and backed out of the space next to my car. For a moment I stood facing the midnight-black Monte Carlo, feeling distinctly like James Brolin facing down a demonic Lincoln Continental.

Either way, as I continued my walk, I thought about the marks we all leave behind. Some of them are positive marks. Warm, pleasant, nostalgic. Some of them are powerfully life-changing, for better or for worse. Some of these marks, however, are stains. And stains do only one thing: they taint. I wondered what stains I’d leave behind.

I took a deep drink of my whiskey, thinking of the roles I’d played since childhood, into high school, through college and seminary, into marriage, parenthood, and my pastorate. Wondering how long ago I started drowning in my roles, and if the real me could finally claw its way back to the surface.

Jimmy stepped back, a distant calm settling over him. He withdrew his other hand from his pocket, and cracked his knuckles. “We were going to make this easy. It’s not going to be easy now, Micah. It’s going to hurt. A lot. And we’re going to enjoy every minute of it.”

Micah briefly thought about getting back into his truck and driving it into the parking lot, but panning his flashlight back and forth, he saw several downed trees blocking the way. He could step around them, but not drive around them. He paused, thinking one last time about going home. Then, without further hesitation, Micah entered Blackfoot Valley Sports Camp for the last time.