Gianfranco Mancini’s Reviews > October Nights > Status Update

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.”