The NoSleep Podcast - S16: NoSleep Podcast 2021 Haunted Halloween

Episode Date: October 31, 2021

The NoSleep Podcast presents its 2021 Halloween Celebration!“Butch Cassidy and The Scarecrow Kid” written by S.H. Cooper (Story starts around 00:09:30)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Robbie Dink – Matthew Bradford, Bishop “Butch” Cassidy – Atticus Jackson“Soul Hunting” written by Davis Walden (Story starts around 00:28:10)Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Conor – Kyle Akers, Mom – Kristen DiMercurio, Grandma – Erin Lillis, Sheet Ghost – Dan Zappulla, Scarecrow – Atticus Jackson, Fairy – Nichole Goodnight, Pumpkin – Danielle McRae, Marcie – Sarah Thomas, Alex – Jeff Clement, Matt – Graham Rowat, Vampire Girl – Mary Murphy, Children – Erika Sanderson, David Ault, Penny Scott-Andrews, Dan Zappulla, Nichole Goodnight, Danielle McRae, Sarah Thomas, Jeff Clement, Graham Rowat, Mary Murphy“Discount Haunted House” written by Jon Grilz (Story starts around 00:59:20)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Narrator – Dan Zappulla, Jana – Sarah Thomas, Tour Guide – Jeff Clement, Clint – Atticus Jackson, Armless Man – Jesse Cornett, Doctor – Graham Rowat“The Black Sow” written by Elle Turpitt (Story starts around 01:30:00)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Zoe – Erika Sanderson, Cait – Penny Scott-Andrews, Owen – James Cleveland, Dai – David Ault, Mam – Erin Lillis, Mrs Jones – Mary Murphy, Mr Jones – Andy Cresswell, The White Lady – Kristen DiMercurio“Thresholds” written by Beth Carpenter (Story starts around 01:52:00)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Graham Rowat, Carly – Danielle McRae, Murder Victim – Atticus Jackson, The Kids – Kyle Akers, Jeff Clement, Sarah Thomas, The Girl – Nichole Goodnight, Mr. Foster – David Cummings, Mrs. Durry – Mary Murphy, Middle-aged woman – Erin Lillis, Milo – Jesse Cornett, Jeanie – Wafiyyah WhiteThis episode is sponsored by:Quip – Quip is the good habits company for oral health. With their leading-edge electric smart toothbrush combined with dentist-recommend scheduled replacement plans for brush heads, toothpaste, floss, chewing gum, and mouthwash – Quip makes oral care easy and affordable. And if you go to getquip.com/nosleep right now you’ll get your first refill FREEClick here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast team Click here to learn more about S.H. Cooper Click here to learn more about S.H. Cooper’s novel, “Inheriting Her Ghosts” Click here to learn more about Jon Grilz Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“NoSleep Podcast Halloween 2021” illustration courtesy of Hasani WalkerAudio program ©2021 – Creative Reason Media Inc. – All Rights Reserved – No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

to the frightening, the terrifying things. And even though horror is what we do all year round, it's time for something special. So turn the lights down low, lock the doors, and brace yourself for a no-sleep podcast, Halloween. Sound about and turn around, and that's the way we go. Dance around the Reverend hole through. wind or rain or snow, up and down and spin and whirl until we...

Nine. Seventeen whole cycles. Sleep of reason. The goat lies in the valley. But for now it is the season. ...official visitors in 50 years. Declared unsafe since an industrial... ...be accompanied by a film crew led by Screen Darling Magdalena del Silva and her boyfriend, director

Andre Garcia. The couple's production company, five years later pictures, secured exclusive director, released an official teaser trailer for the project, featuring never before seen or recorded on audio and video from Gold Medal, purportedly from that fateful final week in 1967. That's right, that's right. Hoist the banner. There we go. Steady there, boys. And he's Eve. Heave. Eve. My, look at it. Freshly painted like a charm.

Right, right. Things to do, calls to make. You fellas, maybe make a start on the beer tent. Ha ha! The way your eyes lit up. Erecting it, boys. Gotta get it raised first. And then,

And then, oh, Tobias, Tobias, my lad. Yeah. Hey! What's up, Mr. Mayor, sir? Tobias, ah, Tobias, my boy. Have I told you how good it is to have you back in Gold Meadow? You have, sir. Thank you, sir.

We were worried about you when you went off, Tobias. Boy, the things you must have seen. If you ever need to talk, talk about anything at all, you know where to find me, yeah? Thank you, sir, I do. That means a lot, Mr. Mayor. So, is there, is there anything I can help you with? Oh, yes, indeed, indeed. I was hoping you'd run down to the booth's house and check how Ms. Abby and her gal pals are doing with the blind mare costume.

They've taken over the duties from Mrs. Booth and the coffee circle for the first time this year, and, well, I don't want them to think I'm checking up on them, so I thought maybe you could, you know, be my spy. Black Ops, top secret. Oh, sure, sure thing, Mr. Mayor, sir. I'll head on down now. I'll head right on down. Good lad, Tobias.

Before I go, I saw the Reverend earlier. He seemed a bit flustered, I have to say. Not sure where he went. Last I saw, he was heading towards the church. I thought you might want to check in on him. Hmm. Okay, thank you, Tobias. Now, off you go.

Go see how young Miss Abby is doing. Yes. Yeah, we'll do. Thanks, Mr. Mayor, sir. You have a fine rest of your day now. You too, Tobias. Oh, and one more thing. I think we're past the stage of you calling me sir now.

After where you went and what you no doubt went through, I think it's fair to assume you've more than become a man. So no more sir, okay? Sure thing, Mr. Mayor. Catch you later. That's not quite what I meant, son. Please, Mr. Mayor was my father. I'm just mayor.

Oh, the town's really turning out to help. Even a whole week away from the start of the festival. Diane, hold my calls for the next while, please. Now, where was I? You were about to sit down and read through your correspondence. What in the places? Oh, Abigail. Abigail Booth.

Goodness, me. who gave me a fright the size of Jupiter. What on earth are you doing lurking in the corner of my office? How did you even get into my office? Hang on, shouldn't you be at home, working on the blind mare costume? We need that ready for the festival, my girl. That's exactly where I am, Mayor Crombie. Later, Tobias Pound will confirm that.

as will all of my gal pals, as you put it. So, after this is over, you may wish to question that. You may, if you're fine with looking like a foolish old man who may be losing his grasp on reality. Good Lord, have I been drugged? Have you been drugged, Abigail?

You're looking extremely pale, not like yourself. Oh, I'm very much myself. I'm more myself than anyone could ever say. As am I. As are you. And as are they. Ah, what?

Who? Oh, oh, I see. I think I'll... I think I'll take a seat, if you don't mind. Go right ahead, Mr. Mayor. Why not take heed of that correspondence when you do? Ah, yes, I... I was going to... Oh, what's this?

A file from... Well, from them. Well, if it's from them, then you know that their watchful eye in the sky will want to see you open it. Right? Hold on. Project Witchfinder, Inception?

The establishment phase. initiating Sunday, October 31st, 2021. Goodness me, it's 1967. Why on earth are they briefing me about this? Who knows, Mayor Cromby? Perhaps if you take my hand. Well, I suppose H.C. I choose Caltorian.

As we begin, as we begin our Halloween episode, Sorry, folks. Just felt like something walked over my grave as the old saying goes. Now, in our first tale, we meet two buddies preparing to celebrate Halloween night. They're a great pair, the best of pals. But in this tale, shared with us by author S.H. Cooper, we discover the effect of life-threatening horror on the bonds of friendship. Performing this tale are Matthew Bradford and Atticus Jackson. So let's join Robbie D. and Bishop C. in the Pumpkin Patch and experience the terror of Butch Cassidy and the Scarecrow Kid.

The cold autumn wind caught a few of the papers spilled up my feet and scattered them further around me. I made a half-hearted attempt to snatch the nearest one, but it danced out of reach down the sidewalk as of taunting me, and I let it go with the sigh. Crouching down, I began gathering up what hadn't been carried away and shoving it unceremoniously back into my backpack. Don't cry. Don't cry. Hey, dink!

Heavy footsteps plotted across the pavement toward me, and I sat back on my heels, screwing up my face in a further attempt to keep any straight tears from slipping out. I couldn't let him see me cry. He stood in front of me, one of my escaped papers clutched in his meaty fist. Bishop Butch Cassidy was the biggest kid in 10th grade. Hell, maybe even the whole school.

He was blocky, from a sharp crew cut down to his giant black boots he wore. And his square features always seemed to settle into a hooded scow people called resting Butch face. At least that's what they called it behind his pack. Nobody had the balls to stay in in front of him, or pretty much anything else. Most people went out of their way to avoid Butch, but most people didn't know him like guided. I accepted the offered paper. Hey. What happened?

Somehow, Butch had a way of making even his concern look threatening. I shrugged it off, hurriedly collecting the rest of my things from the ground. It tripped is all. I could hear the gears crunching in Butch's head as he surveyed the scene, trying to come to his own conclusions. I knocked my fist against his rock-solid shoulder. Really, it's nothing. You sure? Wasn't Brett and those guys again?

No, man, it's nothing. Chill out. I mean, I didn't like lying to Butch, but it was for the best. Brett Nortle and his gang had been after me since the first grade when I let slip to the teacher he was copying my homework. It wasn't anything new. What was new was the threats against Butch. I mean, they thought I'd befriended him at the beginning of the year for some kind of protection. and, you know, instead of surprising shared interest in hair bands and Star Wars.

Brett made it clear if Butch even looked at them funny, they'd make up some stories he was threatening them and get him expelled. I could deal with my books being dumped and having to hand over my lunch money, but I couldn't handle losing my new best friend. Come on, Robbie, I'm not that dumb. I see how they mess with you. Butch conveyed his seriousness with the use of my first name instead of my last. It's nothing.

Drop it, please. His nostrils flared with his exhale, reminding me of a cartoon bull readying to charge. But I didn't flinch. Once he found out he slept with an R2D2 nightlight and had a cat called Rainbow Sprinkles, it was a bit harder to be intimidated by him. Fine.

Let's go then. His sour mood only lasted until we were off school grounds and walking down Main Street. Cheerfully decorated banners, hung from every light post. Jack lanterns grinned at us from store display windows beneath hand-painted ghost and green-skinned witches. Little kids, dressed as every manner of monster, were already running up and down the street, plastic pumpkins sloshing with candy. I'd forgotten it was Halloween. It wasn't a holiday I paid too much attention to. Not after my older brother got too cool to take me,

and going alone meant I might run into bread. Butch was gritting ear-to-ear, though, and shattering away about all the sweets he hoped to get. You still go trick-or-treating. I snickered at the idea of an adult opening their door to a homemade, twisted sister member taller than they were. Butch was entirely unself-conscious in a way I envied. Sure, free chocolate. You have fun with that.

What? You gotta come. Not really my thing, dude. How is free chocolate not your thing? I just don't go, okay? An unhappy rumble filled the back of Butch's throat, his thick lips pursed into an aggravated pout. The gears were going again. Is it because of Brett? I kept my eyes pointed down on my chucks. I don't have a reason. I just don't want to.

We sidestepped around a giggle of kids tugging their bored-looking parents along and paused at the end of Somerset, where we'd split up and head to our houses. Butch was still rubbing the back of his head, as if still perplexed by my aversion to Halloween. I started to turn away. I'll see you tomorrow. Butch's large hand came down like a clamp on my shoulder. Hold up. Even if we don't go door to door, you should still do something. I don't know.

Come on. I don't want to spend Halloween inside. That's lame. I frowned while he took his time mulling over options, until he came up with one that had him smiling all over again. The pumpkin patch? Cedar Mill. They'll be crawling with little kids for the party thing.

they do every year. Pass. No, no, the other one. The old one, out on Rock Hill, where the barn burned. When I didn't answer right away, you gave me a shake that snapped my teeth together. Come on, Dink. Nobody goes out there.

It'll be awesome. I'll even bring a pizza. Pizza isn't the selling point you think it is. But you'll go? There is something so pure about Butch in that moment. The earnest tone, the hope in his eyes. It was like staring up an oversized puppy.

I couldn't say no. He whipped with my agreement and slapped my back, sending me stumbling a few steps. Woo! Me'd here at eight with the bikes! I nodded, and as I turned to head home, he called out again. Hey, Dink. What? Trick-a-treat.

After the day I'd had, I smirked humorlessly. Treat. Definitely treat. You got it, dude. Eight o'clock, don't be late. Five minutes to the appointed hour, I was peddling hard against a swarm of other kids, zigging and zagging my way to the end of the street where I was supposed to meet my friend. I kept my shoulders hunched and head low,

paranoid that even in a crowd that size, Brett would find me like some kind of loser lowjack. At one point, I was certain I saw a few of his goons loitering under a street lamp and cross quickly to the other side, just to be safe. Wherever they were, their boss was surely close by. I didn't relax again until a familiar blocky silhouette on a too small bike came into view. As I rode up beside him, Butch padded the pizza box strapped to the rack over his rear wheel. Let's get moving before this gets cold. It was quieter out on Rock Hill, where the suburbs faded into rolling farmland. Without all the trick-or-treaters, the joker card flicking against my spokes sounded engine loud.

Our flashlights cut thinly through the night, doing little. to ward off the shadows. Usually I didn't mind the dark, but there was something different about it out there, the emptiness, the stillness. A glance over my shoulder showed the town had turned into a dim glow behind us. I swallowed hard and picked up my speed

to stick close to butch. Even before we'd turned down the dirt driveway of the old pumpkin patch, bordered on both sides by overgrown weeds and a cleaning fence, the hairs on the back of my neck were starting to rise. You sure no one lives out here? Yep. It's been empty for a few years since the fire.

But there's still pumpkins and stuff. I guess they kept growing even without people around. Come on, let's go up to the barn. I followed his lead to the burned-out husk, where he leaned our bikes against what remained of its blackened wall. And true to his word, the place was deserted. All the windows and doors of the nearby house boarded up with signs warning against trespassers. While I huddled next to the bikes, flashlight flickering tensely back and forth,

Butch poked around in the barn. He tried to get me to join him, but I refused. My imagination already running through all the rusty farm tools I might fall on in the dark. I used the food to lure him back out. Weren't you worried about the pizza getting cold? And it worked, and we unstrapped the box from his rack to eat at the edge of the pumpkin patch. It stretched down the slope and a gnarle of leaves of the... and vines, and erected in the middle of the field, a scarecrow hung from its cross against the starry sky.

It was hard to make out the particulars from that distance, but its arms were outstretched to either side and its head tilted to the left, as if curious about its visitors. I angled away from it, not a fan of scarecrow's to begin with and grabbed a slice of lukewarm pizza. He got through half of it before Butch started getting restless. I'd finally started to chill out a bit, no longer jumping at the wind whistling over the hills or the scampering of squirrel feet in the distance. When he got up, hands shoved into his jacket pockets and headed into the patch. Where are you going? In response, he crouched, picked something up, and lobbed it at me. The small, half-rotton pumpkin landed with a thud beside me. Hey, you could have hit me.

It was soft. It wouldn't have heard. That bad. He giggled. An odd sound coming from someone who looked like Butch. Come on, there's bigger ones out here. Let's see who can throw them further. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. But at his urging, I got up and trudged over to him. He handed me a pumpkin the size of a bowling ball. Go on.

Throw it. I started to aim it downhill, but Butch grabbed my sleeve. No, over there, at the scarecrow. See if you can hit it. My eyes followed his pointing finger toward the scarecrow. Closer now, I could see tufts of hay sticking out at the wrists over its gloves and the rough potato sack that served as its head. Thick ropes bound its arms and legs to the post.

My grip tightened around my pumpkin. Wasn't that leaning left before? What? Its head. It was flopped the other way before. I'm sure of it. Butch blinked slowly at me, then hurled a tiny gourd at the scarecrow. It cracked against its gene-covered leg and rolled to the ground.

The scarecrow's oversized plaid shirt, stuffed full of hay to give it a rounded belly, ruffled in the breeze, but it was otherwise still. Butch shook his head. You don't got to be so scared all the time, Dick. Now throw the damn pumpkin! It sailed from my hands and landed with a dull thud a few feet in front of the scarecrow. Instead of making fun of me for it, Butch tossed me another one. Our laughter in the hearty smacks of pumpkins against the scarecrow.

Butch is always louder and more sure than mine, filled the night. We tore the underwright plants from their stems and ran circles around the scarecrow, sometimes aiming for, sometimes each other, shooting insults back and forth faster than we could throw. I was running low on ammo and dove for a nearby pumpkin that had come to rest at the base of the scarecrow's perch. But as I scooped it up, my free hand wrapped around the wooden post for support, A low gurgle sounded from above me. I reeled back, eyes drawn instantly upward, and found the thing's potato sack head gazing directly down at me.

My scream was enough to have Butch abandoned his pumpkin throwing to run over to me. What's wrong? It breathed. Dink. It did. It breathed. And look, the head moved again. It wasn't like that before.

Butch stepped back to inspect the scarecrow. Piggy eyes narrowed into black slits, then made a show of cracking his knuckles. Scareing my pal, huh? Not on my watch. No. But he hauled his fist back and slammed it into the scarecrow's side. Its head lulled against its chest from the force.

See? It's nothing. I don't care. I want to go. I was already turning away. Come on, man. I raised my voice the first time I'd ever done so to Butch. No, no, come on.

It's creeping me the hell out. Buried, just beneath my shout, I heard it again, the same rasping breath from above. I stumbled back, my own breathing quickening. Didn't you hear that? You don't got to yell at me. I just wanted to have a fun Halloween. I'm sorry, man. But my gaze never left the scarecrow.

Had one of its fingers just twitched? Let's go, Butch, please. And to encourage my friend along, I started jogging back toward the bikes. I was relieved when only a moment. A moment later, his heavy footsteps followed. Once at the barn, I turned to find him sulking along at a less hurried pace. And over his shoulder, the scarecrow's perch stood empty. Butch!

He whirled around in his entire body stiffened. He only uttered a single breathless word. Fuck! A dark shape rose from the ground at the foot of the perch. It moved slowly, stiffly, swaying slightly as if unaccustomed. into its legs. As it fixed its gaze on us, it released a raw, haunted scream.

Terror rooted me in place, sent my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I couldn't even yell for my friend who stood between me and the thing. It straightened further with another agonized cry, beginning to move and dragging, shambling steps.

Except it wasn't coming toward us. It was moving away. I reached for my bike. Let's go. When I looked back, Butch was sprinting full speed across the pumpkin patch after the scarecrow. Bush! The thing's limping gait was no match for my friends, and Butch bull rushed into it. The two went down in a tangle of flailing limbs, the scarecrow's blood-curdling keen slicing through the night.

They rolled down the hill together in a chorus of shouts and screams. I was hardly aware I'd started running after them. All I could think about was Butch, my best friend. I mean, what was he thinking? could have run. We could have gotten away. But that wasn't Butch, was it? He didn't run from anything, probably didn't even know how. And he'd never let anything hurt me if he could help it. Tears burned in the corner of my eyes and I nearly lost my footing on the slope, stumbling the last few yards down the hillside until I came up upon Butch and the scarecrow.

Butch was straddling its chest, keeping it pends to the ground while it thrashed beneath him. All the while it made terrible wet burbling noises. Are you crazy? But then Butch laughed, and confusion ate away at the edges of my fear. Butch? Sorry, man. I thought we'd have more time. More, more time?

For your treat? He took hold of the top of the struggling scarecrow's potato sack and yanked it upward. Happy Halloween! Brett Nortle stared up at me with a wide, wild eyes over a mouth painted red. A large, bloody knot protruded over one temple, and his nose laid splayed across his cheek. His face was a swollen purple map of Butch's handiwork. He gaped at me, trying to speak, but no words could form from the torn stump of his tongue. I sank to the ground, the world running together in a stream of black around me. The pizza we'd eaten earlier surged in my throat.

What have you done? I got you, your Halloween treat. Originally, it was just going to be candy, but then I saw him on my way home and thought, this would be better. You want to get a few more hits in? I could only stare at him, fighting the urge to puke all over both of them. After all, he's done to you, I thought you deserved to have a little fun. He's been messing with you too long.

It was his turn to know what it felt like. I told you you didn't have to be so afraid, Dink. Brett kicked and twisted in turn, but Butch hardly seemed to notice. But now it's over. You woke up and I guess my knots weren't as good as I thought. What would you? Did we find a phone and call an ambulance? Butch smiled at me, a sweet, simple expression that invited me to join in.

Oh no. Now comes the trick. Huh? Brett's renewed scream was smothered beneath Butch's hand, pushing heavier and heavier against his face. Another wave of nausea came crashing down as Butch's smile widened into a grin, and the sweet simplicity of my best friend vanished. We make the body disappear.

Halloween feels like a very 20th century festival. But as most of us know, it's been around for centuries in some form or another. While progress is always good, it can be important. to remember and honor tradition. Even as recently as the 60s, for instance, there were villages like Goldmeadow where things were first psychotemporal link established upheld. But in this tale, shared with us by author Davis Walden, we're reminded that different people have different traditions, some of which may be only partially lost to time.

Performing this tale are Kyle Acres, Kristen Di Macurio, Aaron Lillis, Dan Zapula, Atticus Jackson, Nicole Goodnight, Danielle McCray, Sarah Thomas, Jeff Clement, Graham Rowett, Mary Murphy, Erica Sanderson, David Alt, and Penny Scott Andrews. So settle in for a Halloween feast of cakes and maybe some turnips as we go soul hunting. I set the invitation down on the family altar and lit a pink candle, calling for Aphrodite's aid. I glanced over at a purple candle and decided to light one for Dionysus, because why the fuck not get blasted tonight? The invitations to Matt's birthday party turned out great, just like I told him they would. I don't know why he was so worried about them, but he had been fussing over their design for the past three weeks before deciding to settle in on a sleek black and white spirit board layout. The vintage moon and sun, next to a yes and no, rested above the invitations text.

Your spirit is being called upon for Matt's 18th birthday party Wear a costume to die for Theme, classic Halloween Matt wanted everyone to interpret that however they wanted I was looking forward to seeing everyone's costumes because there'd sure as hell be a lot of them there Matt invited pretty much everyone he could find

and I'm sure that there'd be even more people showing up at every point of the night I was dressed up very fittingly as a witch. I always liked the witch costumes that the girls on TV got to wear, but I wasn't the dress-wearing type of gay. I decided to get my mom and grandma's help, turning a bunch of fabric into something wearable. We took a black, sheer constellation embroidered fabric and turned it into a blouse with an orange-botie neckline and cuffed long sleeves. I'd pair it with black pants and a cape and a purple underside. To top it all off, I had my hat. It was a crooked and tall purple creation

with a black band and orange lined around the rim. I just hoped Matt liked it. That's really all that mattered. I checked my reflection one last time in the mirror on the staircase, fussed over my hair, and swung off the bottom rung with the banister. Grandma and mom were over in the kitchen prepping meals for the Coven's Dumb supper.

The Sawin Dumb Supper, a silent dinner to honor the dead, invited the spirits to dine with the living since the veil between our world and the afterlife thinned and allowed them to walk among us. They were this year's hosts, and the entire dinner room was done up like something ripped out of a Victorian gothic horror movie. All of the decorations were black, and so were the candles, which would be their only source of light tonight. Mom and Grandma popped out of the kitchen wearing cozy Halloween sweaters.

Mom's was an orange pumpkin face. Grandma's was covered in small plushy bats with fabric wings. Grandma turned on a full blender of margarita mix as Mom pulled soul cakes out of the oven. I'm leaving. What? I said I'm leaving. Mom put the tray down, took off her oven mid, and turned off the blender. Grandma scoffed.

What'd you do that for? I'm leaving. I waved and backed away. Mom threw up her hand. Oh, that's what you said. You're not going anywhere yet. Grandma pulled out her phone. We need a picture of you.

I'll get pictures at the party, promise. No, come on. Stand over there. Your costume matches and everything. Mom's eyes went wide. Wait, what time is it? Mom and Grandma spun their heads to the microwave. It was six.

Mom breathed a sigh of relief. Oh, thank the goddess. We still have two hours to get ready. Don't want everyone to see you in your Halloween town looks? I smiled. Mom rolled her eyes. We have to wear black and be all fancy. All right, I got a couple of photos, but now we need a real one. Smile.

I didn't. Mom smiled and waved her fingers around her mouth, telling me to show off my pearly whites, so I did. Yay! You look great. I'm sure Matt will think so, too. Mom cleared her throat and stared daggers at grandma. who covered up her mouth. My embarrassment was now complete. Okay, I'm definitely leaving now.

Mom clapped her hands together. Oh, I forgot. Here, bring these. She lifted up a black basket with orange Halloween paper inside. A batch of at least 40 sole cakes sat piled up on top of each other. There were shortbread ones, pie crust ones, buttery powdered sugar ones, and Irish cakes. for all those hungry ghosts tonight. Before trick-or-treating, there was souling. Before candy, there were soul cakes.

According to the legends, they were either made to select sacrifices for the coming year, Shirley Jackson style, or to placate angry spirits. And then the Christians attacked and assimilated Sawin and souling into their own traditions, releasing souls from purgatory through the eating of cakes, for a price, of course. I'm sure they'll scarf these down in no time. And here. Grandma poured out the blender into a thermos. Mom, Connor can't have that.

What? It's going to be drinking anyways. Might as well have something actually good. She wasn't wrong. Nestled in a blanket of orange, brown, or dead trees, Black Hill Hall stood as it had since the 1800s. A brick home with the roof, the color of oxidized copper. other than the moon and the stars the house was the only source of light for miles i still couldn't believe matt had never invited me in before he always said this place was too far out but it was only a 20

minute drive whenever we did hang out it was at the arcade the movies or at my place cars pulled up through the blackness of the forest around us and tried to find parking i was nowhere near being the first guest to arrive, something I did very, very much so on purpose, and had to park a little ways from the entrance. I took a deep breath, grabbed my basket, and headed outside. I passed by a scarecrow, a sheet ghost, a pumpkin, and a fairy on my way up to the front door. Sheet ghost leaned over to fairy solo cup in hand. I heard this place used to be a children's hospital or an asylum, something like that. It's like crazy haunted. The scarecrow shook his head.

That's bullshit. Actually, that's Wreckham's Children's Hospital. It's about maybe 20 minutes from here. It closed down in 1981, but supposedly the spirits of hundreds of children roam the halls to this very day. And if you're very, very quiet, you can hear their cries on the wind. See? I told you you had it wrong. Ferry snatched the solo cup from Sheet Ghost. Well, that's disappointing.

It'd be cooler if we were at someplace haunted. Sheet ghost shrugged. Or maybe he was just readjusting his sheet. He had some patches and spots, which was a cute little detail. I rang the doorbell and waited. Pumpkin waved a hand at the door. It's unlocked. Oh, thanks.

I shook off the last of my nerves and opened the door. But my nerves were definitely not done with me. I felt a jitter sprinkle up my spine and out through my arms as the Halloween music got louder. The foyer of the house was coated in purple and black decorations. Bats were floating down from the chandelier, which, like the dark hardwood staircase, was coated in spiderwebbing. I walked over to the living room or sitting room. I don't know what it would be, but it looked like it was themed entirely after pumpkins. A very luxurious drink cart harbored a few ghosts next to the same.

to black plastic wine glasses and a few bottles of vodka and chasers. Marcy and Alex, dressed as a cowboy and cowgirl, waved at me. I love it. Alex looked at the sleeves. Dude, do you make that yourself? Oh, most definitely not. My mom and grandma helped with it. How long did it take?

Longer than I would have liked. we kind of made it just for this. Really? Just for this? I turned around to find Matt was dressed as a werewolf. He did a lot of makeup work on his face, like acute dog nose and fake hairstrokes. He was wearing a fake wolf fur hoodie and a ripped flannel that was unbuttoned halfway down.

It showed off the sides of his chest muscles and the slope of his upper abs. Yeah, just for this. I'm glad. You look amazing. Oh, thanks. I wanted to put a spin on an old costume. You look really great, Matt.

I had no idea if I was already blushing, but I definitely should have been. You do, too. I like all of the fur. Too bad I don't have it all the time, huh? I don't know. I kind of like it when you don't. Oh, do you? I blinked.

Uh, uh, uh, I, I, I mean, uh... Matt handed me a drink. It was a chemistry flask filled with a green liquid and smoke coming out of it. Tell me more about what you like. He smiled, and I realized he might have been a few drinks in more than I was. I mean, obviously, he would be. It was his party, and I just got here.

I juggled the flask from one hand to the other. I can do that. Cool. Oh, do you need help with all that? Oh, yeah. My mom made soul cakes and my grandma made margarita mix. Matt shook his head. Hold on, hold on.

First off, your grandma made you booze? I shrugged. Eh, drinking anyways, am I right? Matt nodded. We're definitely drinking your grandma's mix. But also, what's a soul cake? I pulled the black cat covered blanket off of the cakes. I mean, they're basically cookies with filling or fruit toppings, but they're an ancient Halloween tradition.

A selling thing, then. It was my turn to shake my head. Yeah. How'd you know? Your grandma was showing me the wheel of the yearbooks you have? Oh, yeah. I laughed a little embarrassed. She's enthusiastic about witchcraft. Matt shrug.

I think it's awesome you guys do that. This is like your New Year's, right? I nodded. And when the dead come back. This and Christmas is when the veil between our world and theirs is at its thinnest. Like ghosts? Obviously he means zombies, dummy. I shrank.

I hadn't even realized Marcy and Alex were listening. Uh, yeah, the ghosts. I mean, zombies aren't a thing, not for the witchcraft my family practices. Can you do a seance? Guys. Matt, grabbing my hand. I could have died right then and there. I'm going to show him around to get these things dropped off.

I'm sure his grandma would love more people wanting to join their coven. Matt shot me a wink. A wink! He leaned over and whispered in my ear. Matt curled up next to me as the group gathered around for a ghost story. There were about 30 of us left in the house. Half of the group was still dancing and drinking while the rest of us were talking in the library. Matt and I had danced all night long.

I loved that so much. Alex got up. Now now, everyone, we know that while I am the fespian of the group... Alex stuck out his tongue. And am unbelievably charismatic. It is an eye who will be telling tonight's horrid tale. It will, in fact, be the master of the macabre. He who dances with death.

A true visionary. The likes of Clive Barker. Who? A hellraiser? The dude with the nails on his feet. Anyways, our first storyteller of the evening is... Okay, we get it, we get it. Our ghost host with the most...

Matt slinked out of my arms and stood up against the mantelpiece. He shot a look at Alex who dimmed the lights. Matt lit a candelabra and set it down on the mantle. Now this is a story passed down from one black hill to the next. A story about the devil and how he always gets his due. It all started when... A girl just as a vampire looked over her shoulder. Hey, do you hear that?

We all got quiet. I don't hear anything. Shh, listen. Wait, I hear it. What's going on? I tried to pay attention to the sound off in the distance. It sounded like the voices of several people joining together for chorus? Burlars?

No. Do I look like the type to hire Halloween carolers? Don't answer that. Someone from down the hall ran into the library. I have to check this out. They're outside right now. We all got up as Alex flicked on the light switch again. Matt blew out the candelabra and shuffled over to me,

slinking his arm into mine. Quite the stir, huh? Quite good, sir. We shuffled out. towards the foyer in the sitting room next to it. Everyone already there was looking out the window. What are they wearing anyways? Looks vintage.

Matt opened up the front door and everyone filed out. The song the chorus was singing was so much clearer now. And so were their voices. It was a group of children, at least 20 of them. I grabbed Matt's arm. Wait, this song, the words are wrong. You know what this song is? It's old, really old, but this is wrong.

Alex was right. The kids' costumes weren't just old. They were the blueprint for all of the costumes to come. There were the faint outlines of goblins, skeletons, devils, ghosts, fairies, and witches. But their masks didn't match what they were wearing. Their masks were disfigured, misshapen human ones. It was as if someone took a clay version of someone's face, and stretched it into different shapes just to see what would happen.

And the mouths of the masks were moving so elegantly, as if they weren't masks at all. One child was dressed as a rabbit, and his teeth were made so long they drooped down in front of his chest. He couldn't close his mouth all the way while singing. A tall man and a torn suit walked amongst all the children. He was carrying a flashlight. No, a pumpkin. A turnip?

He was carrying a turnip. He held it aloft so all of us at the house could see the turnip's face and the light it was casting. Its light turned black. Its face shifted and screeched. It rotted and dripped around the fire before sliming back into shape. Marcy opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Her face was trapped in a silent scream that never seemed to end. The scarecrow clapped and cheered before the verse was finished.

He laughed and pointed at all of us. At Matt. The fairy hissed at him from the front porch of the house. Craig, you fucking idiot! Get over here. We sat and waited. The children and the man were completely silent. They stood still and one by one turned their heads towards Craig.

Craig fished a six-pack off the car he was standing against and walked to the chorus. The fairy was yelling at him, but Craig waved her off. The child reached for the six-pack and grabbed him. grabbed it from Craig. The child, dressed as a doctor with antique accessories, passed the beers to the children around her. Your mask is really cool. You make that yourself. The doctor shook her head. Craig stopped smiling. The tall man held up his turnip and its light washed over Craig. Craig's body snapped into a straight line as he started to convulse.

Marcy and the fairy screamed out as Alex hid his face behind his hands. Craig's head cracked to the left and a bone pushed against the skin of his mouth. He sobbed as he seemed to regain control of his hands and threw them up at his face, clawed his skin open as the muscles and bone underneath pinched and pulled. The drawn-on stitches on his mouth grew and spurted out worms of string. They wriggled and writhed, cinched into his cheeks, and tugged his lips into a tight smile. His teeth crackled out of his mouth in a gush of blood and they clicked against the pavement bouncing off into the chorus. The children all bent down to collect them as if they were candy. Craig's eyes slammed shut and he tried to pry them open again. When his hands came away,

his eyes were gone. Replaced with black buttons, Craig slumped to the ground and was dragged into the chorus line by a few of the children. Propped up by a skeleton and a vampire Craig began to sing. Matt pulled me inside and shut the door. The children continued their song. I think you're going to be sick. Matt looked at me. Do you know what's happening?

What? No. Stay inside. I'm calling the cops. Wait. Soul cakes. We had soul cakes. Grandma made them for me. I dashed off towards the kitchen.

Matt followed me into the doorway. Connor, where are you going? I have an idea. I snatched the basket of soul cakes out of a drunk guy's clutches and looked inside. Most of them were still there. I ran up to the door and Matt pulled my arm. Stop! What are you doing? I'm giving them exactly what they're looking for.

Please don't go out there. I've got to try something. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked outside. The course of children, the tall man and Craig were waiting. It was so quiet outside. I don't think even the fall breeze or the dead leaves wanted to interrupt. I held out the basket and smiled. I heard you were looking for some soul cakes.

Hope I have enough for all of you. The children, all 20 of them, started hobbling over to me. One by one, they grabbed a soul cake and walked back towards the man with the turnip. I complimented all of them on their costume. stumes, told him what pretty fairies they were, what gruesome demons, what tricky trolls, and tried to keep my hands from shaking the basket too much. Craig, or what used to be Craig, came up. He tilted his head, almost as if he tried to recognize me from somewhere.

Took a soul cake and stuffed it into his open maw. He tried to chew with his new mouth as he limped back over towards the rest of the chorus. Bloody drool trickled out and plopped onto the ground. As the group turned around, I noticed a sheet ghost with a skeleton for a face. There were patches on the back. A cute little detail. I shuddered. Matt opened the door.

I sat on a stoop, exhausted. I think so. They don't stop by every year, do they? I need for this to be a regular thing. He sat down next to me and wrapped an arm around me. His hand drifted up and down my arm, over and over again. I'm glad you had those cakes handy. I took a deep breath and laid my head down against his shoulder.

Sorry you didn't get to tell your story. That's okay. I've had enough of those for tonight. So, how does your family know the devil? Matt's hand stopped moving. I didn't say they did. Oh, I must have misheard. The song, not the story. I guess you did.

He kissed me on the head, and we stayed very, very quiet. We have plenty more Halloween treats coming right up. So hold on to that candy corn and pumpkin carving. Did you say pumpkin carving? Mine's all done. How'd he like my pumpkin? What on earth is that?

You carved that? Yeah. What's wrong with it? It's just a traditional pumpkin. Round eyes, triangle nose, and the mouth is... The mouth is awful. Look at those jagged. ragged rotten teeth. Your pumpkin has terrible dental hygiene. Looks like someone needs to get into the

habit of quip. You, you want a pumpkin to look after their teeth better? Pumpkins, you, me, everyone needs to realize that health starts with good habits. And quip makes it easy by delivering all the oral care essentials you need to care for your mouth. That makes sense for humans, but I don't understand how pumpkins... Listen, the Quip Electric toothbrush is loved by over 7 million mouths and has timed sonic vibrations with 30-second pulses to guide a dentist recommended two-minute clean. Do dentists recommend things for pumpkins? Not only that, you can upgrade your quip with a new smart motor to track and improve your brushing with the free Quip app while earning amazing rewards, like free refills, products, target gift cards, and more. I don't think my pumpkin has a smartphone.

And don't forget the basics like toothpaste and flossing. Quip provides anti-cavity toothpaste in mint or watermelon, and two ways to floss, floss string that expands to clean, and a reusable floss pit that replaces over 180 disposable picks with every refill. Any pumpkin-flavored toothpaste? You want more? How about the refillable gum that sugar-free has long-lasting mint flavor and comes with a dispenser? And their refillable mouthwash that's a refillable.

to four times concentrate, plus good for you and the planet. And pumpkins. In addition to brushheads, Quip also delivers fresh floss, toothpaste, mouthwash, and gum refills every three months from $5. Shipping is free so you can save money and skip the hustle and bustle of in-store shopping. With stylish and affordable electric brushes starting at just $25, you won't be paying through the teeth for better oral health. How can the pumpkins and various humans,

Get all these great quip products. If you go to get quipped.com slash no sleep right now, you'll get your first refill free. Well, your first refill free at getquip.com. Uh-uh. Spell it out, please. Oh, that's G-E-T-Q-U-I-P dot com slash no sleep. Quip, the Good Habits Company. Now, go fix your discount pumpkin's teeth while we return to the Halloween

horror. One of my favorite things about Halloween is the temporary appearance of season specifics. Pumpkins are suddenly everywhere. Spirit Halloween stores pop up in otherwise empty lots. And then there are the attractions, hayrides, corn mazes, and more. But in this tale, shared with us by author John Grills, we experience one of the less enthralling exhibitions. At least that's how it seems at first, But as we all know, looks can be deceiving. Performing this tale are Dan Zapula, Sarah Thomas, Jeff Clement, Atticus Jackson, Jesse Cornett, and Graham Rowett. So by all means, pay top dollar for a mainstream scare. You might just get the fright of your life if you visit a discount haunted house.

Has anyone ever had a story that started with, we took a wrong turn, and it ended up going well for them? I hope so. It sure as shit didn't for us. My girlfriend Yana and I got lost on the way to her company Halloween party. She worked at this little tech startup company in the warehouse district. I don't need to go into detail. Just imagine what you think 20-somethings starting a tech company would be like.

Make sure there are bean bags in the office space and some sort of flavored water in the mini-fridge, and you've got it. It being the week before Halloween, there was a mix of friend gatherings, office parties, and local events to go to. Yana and I spent the day bar hopping and all that, so we were pretty buzzed up before she pulled me out of a conversation, Irish goodbye style, chirping in my ear that we had to get to her office party. Come on, we're going to be late. I looked at my phone. It was almost midnight. Late? It's probably over by night. Let's just stay here. She just scoffed at me, pulling me through the street full of people, most of whom weren't wearing costumes, staring at our version of the Tiger King and Carol Baskin's couple's costume.

My faux mullet whipping in the wind as she pulled me out of jog. A starting! You're so old. Within minutes, we'd left behind the crowded bar streets as she weaved us through alleys with the kind of confidence that only drunks and the young have. She was both. Almost ten years my junior and fresh out of college. We'd only been dating a few months, and I probably never would have swiped right on her profile. if I hadn't been just out of a long-term relationship and wanting a change. Her big toothy profile picture smile,

tanned skin against blonde hair with a lake in the background, was about the polar opposite of me. Save your jokes and comments. My friends beat you to it ten times over. Plus, I never actually expected a message from her. Now, three months later, I was winding through streets I wouldn't have driven down in the daylight. Do you even know where you're going? Sweat was starting to bead under my wig.

Of course. It's just up there. Of course, it wasn't. She'd taken us in the exact opposite direction for 15 minutes before I finally had the sense to pull up my phone and get directions. I held my tongue as I showed her the screen, to which she shrugged. I checked car service apps, but nothing was even close. We could almost walk there by the time a driver showed up. This is the part where I'm supposed to say we should have waited.

We should have waited. The streets were all but empty. I'm not sure if seeing people would have made me feel better or worse, but when we finally saw him, the tour guide, relief isn't the word I would have used. He looked lost, just standing there on the sidewalk. His eyes floating back and forth like he was looking for someone. When he saw us, I swear his face lit up, and he waved.

Yana, being Yana, waved back. Happy Halloween to you, too. He was a tall, gangly sort of guy. He looked like a teenager who hadn't adjusted to a growth spurt. All legs and arms and no balance. Hey, do you want it to... see my haunted house? I looked around,

not quite sure I understood what he just said, but Yana didn't seem concerned. What? Haunted House? The tour guide raised his arm up to a tagboard sign with hand-drawn block letters that read,

Haunted House. The E and D and Haunted were squished to one side like he hadn't planned on actually running out of room on the board. Under it read $5, but that was crossed out and replaced with $1. All the things in life that scream no. I tightened my grip on Yana's hand, the international symbol for no fucking way.

But there must have been a generational gap in translation. Is this your haunted house? She spoke almost like she was talking down to a child, with fake enthusiasm. And I would have thought so, too, if I didn't know that's just how she talked to people. The tour guide beamed with pride. Sure is. Rented the place and built it myself.

First time, too. Put a lot of working, and I think people are going to love it. You think? I instantly regretted that I'd inserted myself into the conversation. His face dropped a little. And I could feel Yana scowl at me. Yeah, well, this is the first night we open, and while I was thinking there would be more foot traffic,

still waiting on my first customer. I looked around at the empty street and wondered how anyone could think there would be foot traffic in a neighborhood where they probably paid you to rent the buildings out. We'll be your first customers. I turned my hands. head so fast to stare at her that my neck actually cracked.

You will? Of course. We'd love to. Excuse us for a second. We need to talk about something. I pulled Yanna a few feet away. Not so far that the guy couldn't hear, though. What are you doing? She looked at me incredulously. What's it look like? We're not going in there. The place looks condemned.

Plus, I looked over her shoulder at the tour guide. You aren't getting a messed up vibe right now. Why do you do that? What? Think the worst in people. Because people are the worst? Yeah, and if I thought that, we wouldn't be together, would we? Ouch.

Not going to lie, that's stung. I took a breath and closed my eyes. Listen, let's just go to the party like we planned. We can come. Come back tomorrow or next week or something when we have time to figure out if this place is legit. Yana took out her phone and looked back at the tour guide. Excuse me. Can you tell me the address here? The man pointed at the numbers over the doorway and at the cross street.

Yana typed them into her phone and texted her friend group chat. Sorry. My boyfriend here is just a little paranoid. So I wanted to let people know where we were and that we might be a little late. It was the first time she called me her boyfriend. I felt conflicted as fuck given the circumstances. The man didn't look phased at all. Oh, great. Can you tell them about it after?

Yonah looked back at me with a sort of, I told you so, look, that didn't do a thing to settle my nerves. But before I could say otherwise, she'd dug out a few bills from my fanny pack and handled them over. The tour guide took them like we'd just handed him a winning lottery ticket, probably with the idea of framing them. His first customers. His only customers.

The tour guide pocketed the money, stood up straight and tall. He must have been at least 6'6, and extended his hand to the door of the one-story office space wedged in the middle of an abandoned business park on a dark empty street in a bad part of town. town. Welcome to my haunted house. Thank you. Yana gave a little bow. Lead the way, good sir. I rolled my eyes and followed them both inside, sending my own text

message to my friend group, one that includes a cop buddy of mine, just in case a group chat for sorority sisters wasn't an effective safety net. Cheap string lights were hung along the ceiling, leading us inside. The place looked like it was decorated from a dollar store. Cardboard bats on strings, cotton spider webs that hung in clumps every few feet. A cheesy Halloween sound effect tape played somewhere over a speaker. In a weird way, the longer we were in there, the less nervous I felt. I started to feel bad for the tour guide, wondering what was in, or not in, his head.

We walked through what was probably once the lobby of the building and into a hallway lined with what I assumed to be old office doors. The tour guide walked up to the first one and fumbled with his coat as he pulled out a stack of index cards. Are you fucking kidding? Jana's elbow and my stomach cut me off as she shushed me. The tour guide rifled through the stack before clearing his throat. He did his best to put on an ominous voice, but it felt more forced than a middle school drama nerd. The words coming out stilted and clearly read instead of memorized. Ah, here we are at our first terrorific stop.

Beware those who entered this place. For the things you are about to see, are unique and terrible and impossible. If you dare, proceed now. He paused awkwardly. Do you dare to open the door to the haunted graveyard? Yana smiled and giggled as she reached out her hand and turned the knob. The door swung open.

And we stared in confusion at a bunch of styrofoam headstones and a tissue paper ghost hanging from the ceiling, swaying back and forth from a desk fan in the corner. More cheesy Halloween music played in the room. Even Yana seemed a little awkward, and it took her a tick to let out a forced sound of interest. The tour guide smiled a genuine sort of smile and closed the door. He read from the next card. Ah, I see that you are brave souls. Perhaps you will make it through here after all.

I almost asked to leave right then and there, but he walked over to the next door and cleared his throat again. Like he thought he was supposed to do that before everything he said. Ah, and here we have the last stop for poor inmates. 666. Convicted of murder. Yana opened the door,

and I think I actually felt myself stepped back. In the middle of the room, against the buzz of electricity and rising smoke, a man strapped to an electric chair, jerked back and forth wildly, pulling against his restraints.

It took me a full two seconds before I realized I'd seen the same prop at Spirit of Halloween. I actually had to give it to him. After the lame first room, it had sort of lulled me enough to give me a scare. Not bad. Yanna smiled at me. Oh, it gets way better. This way! At the third door, he stopped and looked at a card for a few seconds before lowering it.

Good. he was actually remembering his lines. Ah, the cleansing room. I must warn you, though, in this room is the final resting place of a woman who couldn't cope with the reality of life. His voice sounded different,

a little more measured. Still sounded like a bad performance, but it seemed like his nerves were clearing up, and he was getting more into the role. Yanna opened the door, and inside the dark room was a bathtub, one of those old claw-footed ones that weighs a few hundred pounds. It was empty and lit from overhead by a single exposed bulb. I was about to ask what we were supposed to see, when Yana's hand tightened in my own. The tub was starting to fill, water coming up out of the drain.

but not water. In the bad lighting, I couldn't tell at first, but it was too dark for water. Too thick. Corn served by reason. Once it got close to the lip, the tub stopped filling. The surface of the liquid rippled and settled.

I was about to comment when a hand broke the surface of the liquid and clung to the side. of the tub, fingernails scratching against the porcelain, before slipping back under the surface. Both Yana and I stepped forward out of instinct and the tub started to drain. I expected to see whatever mechanism had the hand shoot up, something we couldn't see from the doorway. But when the tub emptied completely, there was nothing there but a red discoloration. We both looked back at the tour guide who stood in the doorway.

He had just the slightest smirk on his face. That's... Okay, that's pretty good. How'd you do that? I'm sure I was supposed to stay quiet, but my nerves were starting to fire a little again. To his credit, he just shook his head and extended his arm down the hall. Please. there's more to see.

Yana and I looked at each other, and she gave me a triumphant grin. I couldn't help but smile back. Her instincts were clearly right. It was a good scare. The tour guide stopped at the next door and started to look down at his cards before thinking better of it and putting them away.

He raised a finger to his lips. Please don't raise your voice. It's back. her bedtime. Jana's hand was a little slower to grab the knob this time. As the door opened, we saw a single bed frame with a bare stained mattress and a bunched-up sheet at the end. Again, lit by a single exposed bulb.

Other than that, the room was empty, save for something written on the far wall. Ready or not? I looked at the tour guide, kind of let down. down after the last scare. He had been watching us, not the room, and when I looked over, he turned his head to peer inside. He seemed confused. He took a step in, even looking behind the door before turning back to us. If I didn't know better, I'd have called it a look of concern. He looked up, that way you do when you're trying to hear something, and I swear, I swear, I Where? I heard the sound of someone running in the distance.

At the time, I had to hand it to him. The whole thing was unnerving. His timing was way better than I expected. I figured there must have been some gadget behind the door that made the sound. I know better now. Um, we should keep going. Yana hugged herself to my arm. Not so much in the really skis.

scared way as much as the comfort way. I admit, I appreciated the contact. The place was getting eerier by the minute. The tour guide stopped at the next door. He didn't bother with the cards this time. You've made it this far. Something you may regret. Because this door...

He paused and looked at the rotted wood door we were standing in front of. The other doors were just holdovers from whatever business had been there last. But this one, frame and all, looked like it had been ripped out of some old farmhouse and set up there.

This door is something special. Beyond this door is another place. They say the man who built this door was looking for an entrance. to another plane entirely... The sound of little feet and giggling made the tour guide stutter. He paused, listening, then continued.

A doctor who wanted a place far away from prying eyes to perform his work. It's a dark place with many corners. Many oddities. This time, I was the one who had to open the door. Yana's arms were wrapped around my right arm. As the door creaked open, I couldn't see anything.

No light, nothing. We both looked at the guide. You have to go in. I can't follow. The exit is on the other side. I'll admit, I was scared, even still thinking it was just a regular haunted house. But as we walked in and the door slammed shut behind us, Yana screamed, and I reached out for the knob.

But it was total darkness, and I couldn't find anything. No door, no wall, nothing. Baby? Her voice shook as I found her small. small hand. Nerves got the better of me, and I thought of the girlish giggling that had accompanied the running footsteps, but I could feel Yana's clattering. It's okay. It's just a gag. Just start walking and we'll be out and at your party before you know it. Think of the story we can tell about the shitty haunted house that had us so scared. I didn't even sound convincing to me.

We took baby steps, afraid to hit a wall and waiting for some jump scare. When the first light turned on, a spotlight from nowhere. And we saw what it was. The marionette, I call it. A person used to be a person. Cut into pieces at the joints and sewn back together. Hung by wires. We froze.

And it started to dance to a sick sword of Calliope music. We shuffled past it, and I swear I could see the limp, bobbing head, crying. Just keep moving. It's just a show. The second light turned on. A man in torn jeans, no shirt. His arms cut off at the shoulder. His feet were shackled to the ground. They were lured.

long surgical scars running up and down the man's sides. Something inside bulged out against the skin, almost like fins. Almost like something had been put inside him and sewn back up. Keep moving. The third light turned on. There was a woman on a table. Her head was shaking frantically, moaning. Her legs were up on stirrups.

As we kept moving, we could see her mouth had been sewn shut and her back sewn to the table. Her skin stretched to the tearing point as she struggled. It's not real. It's not real. Then the doctor popped up from between the woman's legs. He was covered in blood and gore. He was old. His eyes wild with insanity. I'm not ready yet.

How can I get my work done if I'm not given privacy? He pulled out a surgical blade and stabbed it over and over into the woman's large stomach, into her chest, into her face. Take her place! Take her place! Yana screamed and took off running back the way we came. Past the not-exactly armless man, past the marionette. There was nothing but dark. until a flash lit up the outline of the door.

Then a boom. The door was there for just a second, along with the sound of frantic movement. I spun around, confused, and all the lights were off again. The doctor gone. The sound of wood splintering, a door being kicked in, lights in our faces and incoherent screaming. Yana and I were shoved to the ground. Cops.

Only cops sound like that. Like from the movies. The commotion covered in adrenaline in fear. The officer close to us dropped to his knee, and as my eyes cleared, I saw Clint, my cop buddy, the one I had sent the address to. Get up. We gotta go. He hauled us up, and,

let us through the door and into smoke. Hold your breath. The smoke burned my eyes, and I felt heat from somewhere until we finally stumbled out into the street to the swarm of cop cars and sirens. You got your text. Clint helped us up. As he usured us away from the burning building, we saw other cops coming out of the fire. They had the tour guide in their grip. Away from the fire, they slammed him to the ground, cuffing his hands behind his back.

He just looked at us with this face of total contentment. Tell your friends. Clint walked us to the waiting EMT to get checked out. He explained all he knew. Thought it was a little weird when you sent the tax, so I checked the address. The place was rented out by Arthur Haynes. guy they just cuffed. Arthur was a suspect in the murder of his parents a few years back.

After that, he was suspected of a series of robberies of some really weird items from an oddity show in Florida. Some weird supernatural shit, claiming to be haunted items or something. He didn't tell me, but I figured I knew. A bathtub. A bed frame.

A door. had a patrol check his last known address and found a dead female roommate but she'd been drowned in some substance medical examiner has the body now Jana snapped out of her haze then what about the other people there were people in there Clint looked confused and rushed over to the approaching fire engine in the end no bodies were found

as if no one had ever been there Yana was rushed to the hospital in shock. I came with, so did Clint. What about the fire? I figured the tour guide was trying to burn us alive. Clint shifted uncomfortably. The flashbang lit up small paint and debris. Something clicked in me.

Wait, how'd you get there so quick? He just looked at me sidewise. Quick. What time do you think it is? You said that message like six hours ago. I looked out of the window of the ambulance to the first hints of the rising sun. A few days later, after the fire was out and the investigation was ongoing, Clint told me something he probably wasn't supposed to. Something I wish he hadn't. He said there was a room in the room. the back of the place, where they found dozens of sets of iron manacles bolted into the adjacent stone wall. Spray painted over the bindings was the message, exit, and under it

satisfied customers. All the chains were empty, but I know that if things had ended differently, at least two sets would have been occupied. Yana and I broke up. Shouldn't be a surprise. We're reminders to each other of what happened. Even without her, I know I'll never be the same. Funny thing is, at first I blamed Yanna for dragging me in there. But in the end, I realized her hopeless optimism may have fucked up my life forever,

but who knows how many people she might have saved. One thing's for sure. If I ever go to another haunted house, I'm sure as fuck going to a place that charges full price. Nos Kalengeyev, another tradition. The roots are, well, the roots are in Wales, Welsh folklore, and the roots are in me. Roots burrowing into my mind from across space and time.

No longer across space. The witch's eye is on me. The way... Second psychotemporal link established. Provide comfort. But in this tale, shared with us by author L. Turpit, we're reminded that even the most familiar of superstitions should sometimes still be heated. Performing this tale are Erica Sanderson, Penny Scott Andrews, James Cleveland,

David Alt, Aaron Lillis, Mary Murphy, Andy Cresswell, and Kristen D. Maccurio. So remember to follow the ritual, because if there's one pig you don't want to feed, it's the black sow. It's a good idea, keep kids out of trouble. I wasn't supposed to be listening, but it wasn't like I could help it. Ma'am was talking in the kitchen on the phone, probably to Auntie Beth down the road. But I could hear every word. The partition she pulled down to cover the hatch Between Living Room and Kitchen

Was thin and flimsy after all. Did you see Mr Harris last year? Poor bugger. Spent all morning cleaning up those eggs. I stifled a giggle. Mr. Harris was a grumpy old kid Who threatened to sick his aging pit on us If we got too close to his old no longer operational farm.

Not that any of us were scared of Spike, but whenever the dog threat didn't work, it was the police next. We all knew who'd egged him. Owen and I were the only ones who'd even dare. And the cars. God help us, the state of those bloody cars. Stifling more giggles, remembering the state of the egged cars last year, I tried to focus on the TV. Some stupid kiddie Halloween movie with animated skeletons and bright colours. Not exactly scary.

I knew what man was on about, of course. Our village had absolutely nothing. Oh, there was the park, which was fine for the kiddies, but for us teens. We had farms and some kids helped their parents out on them. But to get to the nearest cinema, you had to get a bus, which came six times a day to the small rickety train station, and pray you didn't need a piss by the time you got there. Pray the train hadn't been cancelled either. And if it hadn't, it was another 45 minutes to get to the city.

By car, it took just under an hour. I couldn't wait to drive. Down the road was the tourist farm, which was all right, and every Halloween they put stuff on. But again, more for the little ones. Most of us had been every year since we were toddling, so if you didn't get one of the seasonal jobs there for Halloween, which mostly went to outsiders anyway, there was nothing else to do.

I had no idea why all the parents were so shocked when their kids took to tricking. Wasn't like any of them bothered to stock up on sweets for treating. So this year they were trying something different. For us teens and for any families who couldn't get to the farm, or couldn't afford it, Mr Tudor was allowing use of his farm for Nostkalangeaaf. Technically it was a harvest festival from the 9th century, or so Kate said, but they'd adjusted it to more of a Halloween party bonfire type thing. At least Mr Tudors was walking distance.

Mom didn't need to rush out the house and drop me off on her way to the night shift at the retirement home. Kate came to mine, dressed as a witch. She was obsessed with all things pagan, Celtic, witchy, anything that she could claim was pre-Christian, and she was in her element, adjusting her black hat as we walked from mine to the farm. Owen and I were going to meet us there, and I couldn't have. help of feel nerves tingling at the thought. I swear, something had changed between me and Owen over the last few months. Even Kate had noticed the way we blushed whenever we were around each other.

They were bound to have pinched some booze for tonight. You could have put in more effort, Zoe. Kate shook her head at the same catty as I'd picked up the year before. Yeah, I could have spent a bomb on Amazon ordering something else online, but what was the point? Black T-shirt, black skirt, leggings and eyeliner, whiskers. in a nose, cheap and cheerful. I shrugged.

It's not like it's a proper party. Kate rolled her eyes, then looped her arm through mine. No, it's a ritual, when everyone gathers to say goodbye to the dead. She grinned, her eyes practically sparkling. And we're going to dance around the bonfire, Zoe.

It's going to be fun. It really didn't sound fun. It was going to be boring, except for Owen. and we'll have to run home. Run home. I wondered what Owen would be wearing. He usually went for something simple on Halloween, like I'd done.

Yes, otherwise a black sow will get you. I rolled my eyes. The black sow? The veil between worlds is thin. They used to slaughter weak animals at the festival, and sometimes the spirits from the Celtic underworld would emerge and catch anyone who didn't get home. The sow? Because it was a time of harvest, and the white lady, an apparition.

She paused, sort of shrugged. Sometimes she asks for help or offers treasure, but on North Cal and Gere, she appears to punish those who don't listen, who linger longer than they should. She's like a fairy tale witch punishing children for bad behaviour. The sky was darkening, the air getting. colder. At least it was a Saturday, no school tomorrow. I really didn't like the sound of running, though. Maybe I could convince Owen to hide somewhere, or come back to mine. Man wouldn't be home until the early hours anyway. Before we even reached the farm, I could smell the bonfire,

hear the little ones laughing and squealing. Leaves crunched beneath our feet as we walked the lane circling tuders. Jumping over the style would have been his shortcut, but as we reached it, Kate grabbed my arm. No, we can't. What are you on about? You're supposed to avoid places spirits gather. I couldn't help scoffing. Seriously? We're close enough if there were spooky spirits here. They'd have us, all right?

I stepped onto the wooden plank serving as a step and climbed over the fence, spotting the bonfire and small crowd further down the field. Come on, Kate. I'll walk around. She waved the hand. Honest, I just don't want to risk it. Kate shrugged and carried on down. the lane. Suit yourself. Owen and Dai were already there, sitting back from the group of

kids and adults on a fallen tree trunk. Owen grinned when he spotted me, the firelight flickering across his face. Seriously, when the hell did he get so cute? Both had gone for the basics. Dye had a fake axe that looked like it had been swung into his head, his hair stained with red. Owen wore a white school shirt, ripped and torn, white face paint with black and red smeared across his skin. Zombie then. From a backpack at his feet, Owen pulled out a bottle of beer, used a disposable lighter to snap the lid off and handed it over. Ta, I sat between the two boys, and dye shifted away just a little. Where's Kate then? Oh, she wouldn't come over the style. You climbed it? Owen sounded more than a little surprised. Yeah? Why not? Just because I'm in a skirt,

doesn't mean I... No, though, not that. He nudged me with a little. He nudged me with a little surprised. his shoulder. I hated how warm it felt. Didn't you know? That's where spirits gather on all hallows ye. He put on a spooky voice wriggling his fingers. I couldn't help laughing, even though it wasn't really that funny. Yeah, whatever. I peered at the group nearest the fire, and at the long table set up nearby. What have they got there? Food, soft drinks, ma'am's running the table, dad's on barbecue duty. Music played Kiddy Halloween tracks

I drank my beer looking over it Where the field opened up It would be too dark to even see Kate soon I took out my phone Stared at the single bar and groaned Oh why is this place so shit Oh come on It ain't that bad is it

Owen leaned in towards me Have another beer He took one out and I downed the rest of mine Once he'd opened it We clinked our bottles together "'Ah, okay, I'm going to see if Mom and Da need help.' "'Dye leapt to his feet, headed across towards the table. "'The fire crackled, and Owen's leg pressed against mine.

"'What was wrong with me? "'I'd known him since we were little. "'So why was I acting like he was a bloody Tom Holland or something? "'We talked of nothing, really, just stupid chit-chat to fill the air, "'and I wondered if he was going to kiss me by the end of the night. "'I was surprised how much I wanted him to. Die headed back towards us, carrying a paper plate with hot dogs and burgers on, when I spotted a light bobbing across the field.

Kate! She reached the fire and the flames illuminated her. Relief flooded through me when she lifted her hand and waved her phone, maneuvering between dancing kids to join us. Hey! What happened to you then? Dai offered her the plate. She took a burger and bit into it before Dai offered it to us.

I kind of got lost. She chewed. swallowed. I don't know. It was weird. Like, I couldn't find the edge of the field. But, you know, Halloween, weird shit happens. You don't think it was the spirits, do you?

I glanced at my phone to see a text from ma'am had just made it through. You kids having fun. Don't forget to run home before the sow gets you. Kiss, kiss, kiss. Did everyone know about this bullshit? I mean, maybe. Who knows? Kate reached into her pocket, pulled out a small vial with white crystals. Dye's eyes widened.

Kate, here I was thinking you as a good girl. Don't be stupid. It's salt. She opened it, poured a little onto her finger, and held it up. If you were weird, I started sprinkling this as I walked. Then I found the field. Owen nudged me. Ah, better be careful. You actually climbed the style. Yeah, whatever. We talk and ate and drank, until Dye's parents called us over to the fire.

Kate went eagerly, though Dye grumbled. We're not really going to, are we? Oh, come on, it's just a bit of fun. Owen stood, offered his hand to me, and God help me, I could feel how goofy the grin on my face was. He pulled me to my feet, kept hold of my hand as we walked to the fire where the adults were encouraging everyone to dance. die looked our way with an especially pointed look at our entwined hands before he took hold of Kate and danced with her. Kate giggled, and before I knew what was happening, me and Owen was spinning around the bonfire. The kids were having a good time anyway, chasing each other and dancing, just as princesses, witches, superheroes, vampires.

Some of the girls begged Owen and Di to dance with them. Me and Kate moved to the table, where Di's man was packing up. She spotted us and smiled. You're doing okay, girls? Yes, Mrs. Jones. Your ma'am said you've got your driving lessons books, Zoe. I nodded. Aye, soon as I'm 17.

Don't blame you. She looked over at the table, staring at her son. I expect you'll all be gone as soon as you're old enough. God, I hoped so. Only for uni. I want to come home after. You'll probably feel different after you're out in the world. Honest, girls, this place, it's dying.

Get out while you can, yeah? What happened to dead villages? What happened when there wasn't anyone left to work in the nursing homes or the GP surgery, or on the farms and in the shops? We grabbed little cups of cola, returning to the boys, and I wondered what Kate's parents were doing tonight. The pub was doing a little special something for Halloween. They were probably there, though some adults didn't.

drive a little further for special occasions. Maybe they'd gone to town for something. Across the bonfire, Kate spun then stumbled, Die catching her. Both of them laughed. They were so easy with each other. Did they like each other? Did Owen like me? He pulled me back from the bonfire a little, slipping his arm around my waist. I took it as a yes. Dye's dad clapped. Right, kids, gather around, gather around. In the firelight, his grin looked maniacal. Behind him, Dai's ma'am stood beside a pile of stones, holding chalk in her hands. The other adults stood by, and the kids bounced with excitement and sugar. Pick up a stone and write your name on it, then put it in or near the fire.

He looked over at the younger ones. If you're younger than 13, kids, you have one of us to help you, okay? Dai, Kate, Owen, Zoe, if you get out too, please. We moved towards the adults, and we're rejoined by the other two. What's this for? Kate squeezed my arm. Oh, this is fun. The bonfire will start dying down.

Once all the rocks are in, you run home, because if we stay, the black sow and the white lady appear and chase you down. Then, in the morning, we'll come back to check the stones. Whoever hasn't been caught by the spirits. Right. And if your stone is burned clean, it's good luck. If a stone is missing, The person who wrote their name will die within the year.

That's stupid. Oh, don't be scared. None of us live far anyway. Yeah. Dai grabbed a stone and a piece of chalk from his mum. No one will protect you. Good luck. Mrs. Jones winked at us.

Don't forget to run. Right, honey, we'll see you at home, okay? Oh, can't I come back with you? I miss out? We've got to take some of the kids back anyway I looked further behind them spotted the cars waiting closer to the farmhouse Oh so the kids and adults get to run to the cars

Seems like an unfair advantage You'll be fine We grabbed our stones and moved away Writing our names Though Dai took out a Swiss army knife And carved his name into his And putting them all in the fire Before helping the little ones with theirs

Some of the kids were getting fidgety A couple looked like they'd fall to the grass and sleep But they seemed in good spirits Clearly no one had told them about the lady or sow By the time we were done The fire really was dying The adults said their goodbyes to us Told us not to linger too long

And headed for the cars The four of us stood around the fire a little while longer I think just enjoying the sound And the embers sparking in the air The flames licking at the rocks We should go Kate actually sounded sounded scared.

Die turned, started walking back towards the style. All right, fine. Come on. Not the style. If we go down to the bottom, it'll take longer. Besides, you got lost that way. If... Something loud cracked in the fire. The four of us froze, and Kate went positively pale.

Let's go. Owen took my hand, pulled me towards the style. Kate moved past us, obviously trying hard not to break out into a full run. Guess she'd dissoned. decided the style was okay after all. It's just folklore. Just make believe it's no real.

I almost laughed until die spluttered. Um, um, guys. We stopped. Kate didn't turn, but I did. I heard it before I saw it. Huffing, grunting, oinking. It lifted out of the flames, as if it had been sleeping there the whole time.

embers fell off its black coat Owen let go of my hand grabbed me and pushed me away from it away from those tusks and the snorting as the sow stamped the ground with its hoof sending embers flying into the air the word was barely a whisper from die but the sow took it like a cue

it charged through the fire and we ran die sprinting ahead of us Kate close behind Gozo Owen shoved me again My feet felt numb But I did as he said

Running into the darkness, losing sight of the other two all too quickly. A light appeared near the style, and I almost stopped. It was a prank. Just a stupid prank the parents had pulled to pay back the boys for last year. They were still there, just hiding, ready to laugh as us all. I slammed into Kate's back and she screamed, refusing to budge. Behind me, Owen panted and the sow grunted. A prank. It was a prank.

Kate screamed again as died. I turned and ran towards the edge of the field, and I saw her, standing at the style. A white apparition, head bowed and long hair covering her face. We get it! You can stop! The woman's head fell off, leaving a neck stump. My gaze snapped to the head on the ground, the eyes bottomless pits of white. It spoke. Run.

Owen grabbed my hand, pulled me with him. Kate still screamed, as the woman lunged for her. and the sow came up behind. Her scream rose and rose and rose as Owen yanked me on with him. Kate's scream cut out. Kate! I turned, my feet catching on each other

and fell backwards. I couldn't see anything except the glow of the white lady as she turned towards us. Owen grabbed my hand, pulled me to my feet. Zoe, you can't stop. He pushed me again, grass crunching beneath our feet. Whatever happens, you have to

keep running. He shoved me so hard I flew forward, barely staying on my feet. I did what he said. I ran, down the field, towards the edge, wondering how the hell I was going to get home without passing the style again. I couldn't. But we could get to Owens or dies. They lived over the other side. It would be fine to leap over the fence onto the next farm and cut across. We could make it. We would make it. Owen had to be right behind me, though I couldn't stop, couldn't look. Not until I heard him scream. I skidded in the grass, almost went down, arms pinwheeling, managed to stay upright. I wanted to look back. I wanted to see he was okay. Instead, I took a deep breath and kept running. I reached Dye's house as his parents pulled into the drive. By the time I got to his

door, I couldn't move anymore. I just fell, and Dyes D'ar half carried me in. Dye sat in the living room, on the sofa, just staring at nothing. He didn't even look at me, didn't ask him. He didn't anything, just sat there, frozen. His parents tried to get either of us to say something, to explain, asking over and over where Owen and Kate were. They called their parents, and my mum, and she left work early. Soon, me and I were left alone in the house as the parents gathered together to search for our friends. They didn't find them, of course, or any sign of them, and they kept asking us the same questions. They stopped when Dai said just a few words. For Sal and Lady, they got them.

They searched all night, torches casting lights across the fields. We watched from the house, clutching hands. The next morning the pair of us walked back. We looked through the rocks, found ours blackened. Owens and Cates were missing. Within the year, we'd both left the village. Dye's parents took him and left, saying they were scared for him and there were too many memories. I got my driving licence.

Then a car, packed, hugged mum, and left. And every Halloween I put out a ball of chocolates for the trickle-treaters who might pass by in the city. I listen to the constant sounds of traffic and drunks and kids laughing, and I write names on rocks, leave them out in the garden with burning candles, just in case they ever visit. Just so they know I've never forgotten them. And sometimes I hear it. The screech of the white lady, the grunting anoints of the sow,

But they can't get me. Not anymore. In our final tale, we join a father and daughter engaging in yet another beloved Halloween tradition, trick or treating. It's an entertaining, family-friendly activity. Bigger kids are welcome, as long as they respect the unspoken etiquette of the night. No mean-spirited tricks, and let the little ones have dibs on the treats. But in this tale, shared with us, by author Beth Carpenter.

We're reminded of why sometimes teenagers scare the living shit out of me. Performing this tale are Graham Rowett, Daniel McCray, Atticus Jackson, Kyle Akers, Jeff Clement, Sarah Thomas, Nicole Goodnight,

Mary Murphy, Aaron Lillis, Jesse Cornett, and Wafia White. So don't be afraid of refusing to answer doors to high schoolers on Halloween night. it's safer than letting them cross the thresholds. I don't know what it says about my judgment that my one big paranormal story partially hinges on the account of a six-year-old.

But there it is. Don't get me wrong. Carly, who's eight now, was a real upstanding six-year-old. A straight shooter. She never misrepresented her opinions on vegetables or bedtimes or whether or not I looked silly

while I was trying to grow a mustache. It's not that I think she's making it up. I know she ain't. I just didn't see what she saw that night. Not for sure. Halloween, two years ago. She decided she was real into anything spooky just then, even drawn up and cutting out these cute little paper ghosts

and getting her mama to hang them all on a string. She didn't carve the typical scary face into a pumpkin exactly, more like hacked a big old hole in it. But I figured having your face chunked off with a buoy knife was still fitting for the spirit of the holiday, so that was okay. My wife, Jeannie's an artist, and she'd made a real sophisticated costume for the kid out of cardboard, paper mache, and an old pair of gray pajamas. A horned gargoyle, like they have up on cathedrals, with a big boxy head and claws to go on her hands and feet. Carly loved it. She was so eager to spread terror among all our neighbors.

It was frighteningly adorable. We threw it out after. It hurt to see that good, hard work go to waste, especially when Carly had been planning to wear it every chance for at least the next month. But after what happened, just a reminder, Halloween felt wrong. We'd never let her watch anything scarier than Scooby-Doo,

so I don't know what it was specifically that set her off that year. I kind of got sucked right into her enthusiasm, and reminded me of some of the happier days of my own childhood. Her mama was plenty caught up in things, too. Even bought a plastic skeleton from Walmart and set them up in our front yard with some beers and a cowboy's jersey and stuck a little candle in each eye socket. We were all happy, all set to make those good memories

you're supposed to get out of these things. Carly had been vibrating about trick-or-treating since she first got up that morning. She'd carefully laid her costume out on a bed before she got ready for school, and she bolted up there to put it on the very second she got home after. We had a little monster sitting at the kitchen table doing homework for a few hours

while I made supper and her mother snuck in a nap. And by 6.30, she was bouncing by the door, all ready to go. Compared to her, Jeannie and I had pretty half-assed costumes. She was a vampire with a cheap pair of fake teeth and a dusting of talcum powder on her face. I fitted up with her night. knobbly stick and a pointy hat was a wizard. But Carly was satisfied, being as how we weren't the

important parts of this expedition. She agreed to hold my hand as we walked about, but she made it plain that she was leading me. She was pleased with the reception she got from our first few houses. A neighbor's made impressed noises when they saw, and even the ones who were stingy with the candy, at least gave her compliments. Mr. Foster, of the tidiest front of the... on our street was first. Trigger treats. He had a big ball of cheap chocolates, so she beamed back at him. My, what big horns those are.

Thanks, sir. I stick them into people's bellies, and then they die. That's great. Here, take a few. Like I said, don't know where she got it from. The six or seven time people admire the costume. out loud. I started nudging Jeannie in the ribs and grinning. I was pretty sure she was planning ahead for next year's costume. I was looking forward to seeing it. This from Mrs. Dury, of the

neighborhood watch sticker in one window, smiling and dropping peanut buttercups in our basket. Carly actually bowed. I was surprised that she'd take cute over terrifying, but she ain't one to turn down a compliment, I guess. Do you like my hines? Yes, I do. Good for killing, folks. Jeannie was still tired from a long week, and before we got started, we'd agreed that she would head back to the house after a while

so she could hand out some candy of our own. I'd go on with Carly, heading up to some of the nicer houses in the area, and see what we could get for ourselves there. Jeannie left us with a wave and a like kiss between Carly's horns, and the girl drooped for just a second. But it didn't last long, especially when the excited calls of the other trick-or-treaters,

came carrying down to us on a gust of wind. I rubbed sweat off my forehead. It was ungodly hot. It felt like we were trick-or-treating in Satan's sauna. Carly wasn't bothered, but I was wishing I had the wizardly power to draw a few more cool breezes down. Oh, well.

A little hand was very soft in mine. The houses up ahead glimmered with lights and homey unwholesomeness. A letter, pull me into a jog. Her bag of candy knocked against my leg, already heavy, and I caught some half-grinning side glances from the other adults sloping alongside the hordes of children, Romanar suburban wilderness.

We passed robots, zombies, scads of vampires, a few characters from Disney movies, and at least one Pokemon. Carly saw a few of her friends from school and waved frantically, but never tried to leave my side. It was nice. I relaxed into it. And she was so happy and so excited. She's never been that excited about Halloween since.

These days, she's just scared. So am I. We probably stayed out too late that night, even before anything funny happened. Carly's normal bedtime was 8 p.m. And while she was used to running over every open inch of creation, we didn't usually take her out on her. long walks. After an hour, she was clearly slumping a little and putting some work into pretending

not to be. We'd wandered away from the clusters of fellow trick-or-treaters, although there was a reassuring sighting of other stragglers every few minutes. A candy hall was getting hefty. We came to the house of a middle-aged woman. She tossed her flame-red hair over one shoulder and grinned. Oh, ain't you scary? Here have a few Ain't she scary, Milo? Milo, stooped and prematurely graying, smiled nervously down at my daughter. Huh, so scary.

Then he cast a glance out the door, which struck me as genuinely frightened. Watch out for the teenagers. Won't you, sir? I've seen some outside earlier who seemed to be too old. for this kind of thing, you know? Oh? Normally I would have dismissed that, seeing as how I'd been privately enjoying the occasion a lot myself.

I couldn't condemn teens for being out past their Halloween prime, but he really did look unsettled. His expression was tight, and the warning had an edge that I couldn't quite get my head around. Did they get any candy out of it? Not here. He actually shuddered. They didn't come to the door.

Well, we got enough for everyone. It's all right, my love. Carly was blithe. She'd never been afraid of bigger kids or bothered by mysterious adults. I patted her shoulder. We'll be heading home soon anyway. Shortly thereafter, I fixed my eyes on an enthusiastically decorated place a few doors down. It had ghosts on the roof, spiders hanging in the windows, and headstones erupting out of its lawn.

all tied together visually with a mess of orange lights. There was a pumpkin on either side of the door, leering out at anyone who dared come close. Looked like a good last option to me. Last one. She sounded quiet. From my angle, I couldn't see her face beneath the mask. But after a moment, I realized she must be looking at the small group of other kids

standing between the headstones on my target house's lawn. Teens. of them. I paused and watched them too. They marched up to the front door and knocked, and the door swung open directly. The homeowner had been sitting in wait, I thought. He was dressed up as a sort of G-rated murder victim, right down to those little exes drawn over his eyes and a prop knife sticking out of his chest. Even from a ways away, I could see his grin as he first opened the door, and I saw it suddenly dropped too. Carly's hand tightened on mine, and she tugged me forward.

I was still watching murder victim's face as I let her lead me towards his house. Maybe one of those kids was hurt. Would that turn his smile so strained? But then why was he just standing there, not even speaking? That was strange. And to be honest, it looked to me like he was pulling back from pinned feet, holding on to the edge of the door like he wanted to jerk it between himself and the little group. He looked so eager when he swung that door open.

The bowl of candy he was holding was enormous, too. That, together with the decorations, made it clear that this was a man who was fixing to enjoy this holiday, come what may. What had bitten him in the two seconds it had taken for his face to fall? Come to think of it, none of those kids had candy sacks either. What, were they just looking to take what they could carry? Carly told me closer. As we walked forward, it was like the air pressure suddenly changed. My skull squeezed too tight, pain crackling out from my temples and stabbing into my ears.

My vision went blurry around the edges. For a moment, the image of the four of them encircling murderers. victim walked into something else. A rough mess of shadow, failing light glancing off pale contours in the dark, mapping out the lines of something caricature twisted. Jeannie has some odd history books I like to flick through sometimes, and right then I felt like I was lost inside a one of Goya's black paintings,

sweating through a feverish mockery of the world. Treat or trick? Then I blinked, and my ears popped. and Carly tugged again on my hands. I squeezed her fingers gently. Sorry, darling. Must be the heat, I told myself. But even back in reality, things were wrong.

For one, I still had a raging headache. For another, murder victim was frightened. Hell, by then, he was terrified. I could see it on his face, clear as a saint's conscience. Behind the exes, his eyes were shrew. showing the whites all the way around. There was a shine of sweat on his jaw. What the hell was the matter?

Did one of them have a weapon pointed at him, held out of sight? I couldn't think of another reason for him to be so scared. The air all around us seemed to press down with extra weight. I stopped moving towards them, pulling Carly against my side, and craned my neck to see. But I still didn't quite believe it. This was a misunderstanding, an overreaction, something. Instinct fought common sense and froze me in place. My ears popped again, another little jab of pain rippling into the swell of it that was building inside me.

The kids leaned forward towards him, right into his space. Teenagers like to play it cooler than that, don't they? But it was such a small thing. nothing to base a real suspicion on. His flinch was unmistakable. And then he looked up past them and saw us. His eyes widened. He mouthed something at me.

I couldn't make it out, but I could see the plea for help in his eyes. The headache mashed spikes into my thoughts, slowing everything down. Carly's hand felt cold. in mine. Nausea started to churn in my belly, a splash of acid stinging into my throat. What was I seeing here? Could it really be something serious? In a neighborhood like this when there were people roving all over the place? Couldn't be. But I looked at them, trying to find

their hands in the shadows. Empty. Empty. Nothing. Nothing. No weapon? Well, no kidding. What the hell was I thinking? Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. Some little bastard was scraping a chisel around inside my skull, grating away a layer of bone. Carly tugged at me. Instinct finally shoved common sense out of the way. A sharp, fierce electricity zinged up and down my spine, shouting, Get out, get out.

I went to pull Carly back. But in the instant it had taken me to decide, she'd let go of my hand and skipped forward, placing herself right behind the group. That hit me like a brick to the face. Seeing her standing there, slotting into the scene, so damn tiny, so damn precious, wearing nothing more protective than old pajamas and cardboard. I didn't understand why my mouth was dry or why my skin felt like it was swarming with static. why the pressure in my head was pounding and my stomach was twisting.

But I allowed the feeling to push me after my daughter, until I was also standing almost on top of them. I knew something was wrong. What did it matter that it didn't make sense? My kid was here. The teenagers hadn't turned back to look at Carly and me. There were two boys and two girls wearing school uniforms. There was nothing in the same.

the look of them to explain the buzzing terror I felt being so close. The only things I could have identified as it all off now were that the ache in my head seemed worse, the closer we got to them, and the strange smell in the air. It was a hot animal smell, mixed with what I could have sworn was ozone. I wanted to grab Carly and run us out of there, but the thought of drawing their attention to her made the nausea surge, bitter in the back of my mouth, I brought my hand very, very slowly to her shoulder. She was pyranet murder victim with her chin tilted up, and I realized under a bone-deep shudder that whatever this was, she could feel it too.

And she'd decided, with the full force of her six years of carefully edited fairy stories and cartoons about being kind to be helpful. Maybe she thought us just be in there Would prevent any funny business My hand squeezed tight on her coat She didn't look back either Trick or treat Murder victim wobbled against the door

He shoved the bowl of candy out in front of him He here Treat They didn't take any of it They just kept looking at him Carly strained forwards. I clenched my teeth and tightened my grip. Can we come in?

My brother's feeling sick. This from one of the girls. Now she'd shifted off to chant. Her voice was low, flat-sounding. Murder victim's eyes widened even further and flicked back and forth between the group of children and Carly and me. He opened and shut his mouth a few times,

then swallowed. I don't think. Where are you parents? They're not here. Please, can we come in? My sister's feeling sick. He wanted to say no. That was obvious.

Anyone would have wanted to say no. Danger was coming off those kids like the heat shimmer on a long desert road. It was almost another kind of stink. No real reason for it. Nothing reasonable about it. Just there. I didn't believe any of them was sick So why did they want in the house

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong His roving gaze had stopped Held by that spokesgirl's face His expression was disgusted But he wasn't looking away Please, can we come in? Carly's little voice was quivering But she was sticking to her script

Just like the other girl Please Can we come in? Close the door, I thought it, murder victim. Just say no and close the door. But that would leave them with nobody for their focus but us. I tried to reel Carlyan against me without outright yanking, but she answered by trying to shake me off.

My damn it, damn it! One of the boys turned his head a fraction toward us. Not enough of me to really see his face, but enough to freeze me where I stood. Animal and ozone I was still sweating Still pressurized Aware of my own skin in a way which felt unnatural

Like I was maybe gonna burst Murder victim looked at the girl The pleading that had been in his eyes Was there in his voice too Help me, it said Alright Come in If I remember right

My jaw dropped in horror He looked up then staring helplessly into my face. The kids were moving forward. The girl put a hand on the edge of the door and pushed it back. Carly thought I could fix things. They always do at that age.

I did it without thinking. Those kids wanted in for a reason. I didn't know what the reason could be, but they really wanted in. There was a danger in that. That was bad. Therefore, he was going to have to be. have to be coming out. I reached over the kid's head to grab his arm and pulled murder victim

through his threshold just as the kids slipped past him, finishing with him out in the cold night air next to us and them inside. My kid really wants that candy, sir. The kids hadn't turned around as I pulled on him, seemingly more fixed on getting through the door. With my attention fixed on him, shivering in front of me, I could only see them from the corner of my eye. They turned briefly, in the doorway before the door slammed shut between us. But I wasn't really looking. I never did really see their faces. The man staggered at the sound of the door closing,

fetching up against one of his decorative headstones and dropping his weight onto it with a rough gasp. He pushed his ball at Carly, who caught it as it fell from his hands and hugged it nervously to a chest as he hunched over. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with it. I think I'm sick.

A lot of that going around, I thought. He looked bad, though. His skin was grayish, and his eyes were sunken in beneath their cartoon X's. There was a tremor rattling his hands, and he was licking and biting at his lip, like he was on the very edge of throwing up. I thought of those kids, unbothered by being in the house without its owner, wandering around, snooping through his life, touching his things, breathing his air, It'd make me kind of inclined to vomit, too.

I ought to call the cops. This sure wasn't a conventional home invasion, but it made my gut not up all the same. Hell, it tied a bow in it. I let him in. Why did I? He got himself back up, turned back to the door and tried the handle. It didn't budge. They locked you out?

I was a little stunned at the audacity, despite myself. He just stood there, staring up at his house. I opened my mouth to speak again, and before I could push the first syllable between my teeth, the porch light went out. Then, what after the other, all the windows went dark. There was only the space of a single breath between each extinguishment,

as though the kids inside had set up a deliberate sequence and timed it perfectly. I squinted up at the windows, trying to make out movement. The soft glow from the jackal lanterns bloomed against the thickened shadows. I ought to call the cops. I scrambled for my phone, then leaped instinctively back as the man pitched forward against the door, barely throwing an arm up in time to keep his face from slamming into it.

He curled his shoulders in and broke into a strangled cough. I reached out to help him, and when he looked around, I saw the whites of his eyes had gone completely bloodshot. It was too dark to be clear, but I thought I could see a reddish tear curving down his cheek. Carly was crying, too. I could hear her. I swallowed hard on the jumbled series of curses that wanted to burst out of me, and I finally got the phone out. Cops and an ambulance.

It's going to be okay. He nodded and turned wild, weepen eyes back to the house. I know, honey. Hang on, I'm going to get someone to come and fix this, okay? She was only six. She'd been revving her imagination up over Halloween for weeks now. It could have been a trick of the light. Could have been a lot of things.

We're leaving. It felt like I had a head full of ice-cold hornets. I was scared enough that I could feel my pulse and my damn tongue. I just got a cold... From over our heads came a resonant crack, and we all jumped. I looked up and saw a pale shape pressed against the window above us. It took me a moment to recognize it as a hand, pushed hard against the glass. I couldn't see the rest of the person attached, just those splayed white fingers, that small white palm.

My thumb moved over the number pad on my phone, even as I stood, staring at the window. Then murder victim's hand clamped on my arm, and I was so twitchy that I dropped my phone. Emergency services half dialed. When I looked into his face, blood started. to roar in my ears. Right there, darkening on his skin, was a fresh, hand-shaped bruise. Splayed red fingers, small red palm. Like the kid upstairs slamming into his window had marked him.

Like they were inside, working him over. It didn't make any sense. I didn't know what the hell it meant, what the hell it could mean. Some part of me thought this was all something. a messed up joke, prank show, whatever. Maybe it wasn't really hand-shaped. My imagination had gotten pretty revved up, too. Wait, can't let him...

Mr. You need medical help. Blood dripped off his chin. Gotta burn aside. I was silent for a moment as I tried to work out a sensible response, but he didn't wait for me. Instead, he lurched over to his garage, dragged the door up and disappeared inside. Hey, wait, what are you doing?

He re-emerged almost immediately, toting a gas can. You're not to burn them. They're inside. Shouldn't have let him in. His nose was bleeding. The bruise on his face looked livid in the night. Things had already felt surreal, but now I was completely lost. I didn't know if I should see.

stop him or help him. Clearly there was something unnatural about those kids. Most of me had known that from the start, hadn't it? But accepting an idea enough to justify yanking a man out of his house was different to accepting it enough to burn that house down with four teenagers inside. And what if the fire spread further? There'd been rained this week, and in this part of the town there was plenty of space between the houses, but damn! Murder victim had broken one of his own windows and was splashing the gas inside. I picked my phone back up and stood there, watching.

Part of me still hesitating. Part of me just waiting for him to be finished. He looked back at me before he dropped the lighter in. I scooped Carly into my arms and backed us even further away. After a moment, I nodded to him. It went up fast. I guess he had a lot of. flammable belongings.

Nothing new showed up in the windows as the burning started. Except for the wush and crackle of flames, the house was silent. It could have been empty. Everything else seemed to speed up then, too. Or maybe my memories just blurred. I called for an ambulance and a fire truck. I shifted Carly to one shoulder, propped a murder victim up on the other,

and hurried us all to stretch down the road. Then I ran around the road. knocking on all the neighbor's doors and letting him know a house on their street was burning. I remember a stream of alarmed faces on the constant verbal of worried voices. Firelight catching in my eyes. Someone pointing out there was blood on my shirt. Murder victim's blood. My headache hadn't gone anywhere, nor had the knot in the pit of my belly.

When I returned to him and Carly, he turned to me abruptly. You can't sense. He sat on the ground and tore it his skin with his fingernails. The side of his face had swollen. The bruise loosed in shape until it was just a dark block with five vague tendrils, purple and green and yellow. Then he went back to mumbling. He smelled a burning skin. The sirens were a relief for everyone, I think.

The paramedics closed the circle around them, then packed him into the ambulance. They seemed in a hurry, and I was pleased with how quickly they drove him off. He needed help fast. I was pretty sure of that. People were milling around watching the blaze. The fire had consumed most of his house, but it hadn't spread much, and the firefighters were getting the work on it. That was good.

I didn't ask anyone there if they'd seen anything come out. It would have just led to questions I couldn't answer. questions which were knocking at the threshold in my brain too. I wanted to pretend I didn't hear them. I held Carly tucked against my chest as we waited for Jeannie to come pick us up. The whole time she stared at the fire, dull-eyed and silent. I rocked back and forth gently and shut my own eyes. I think I almost dozed until Jeannie touched my shoulder and made me jump.

On the ride home, Carly finally spoke up. Jeannie looked over at me. I looked out through my window instead of meat in her eyes. Or Carly's. And shrugged. I figure you're right. Didn't know what I wanted to believe.

But I figured she was right. There we have it, folks. Another Halloween episode wrapped up. Another dose of terror dished out. And next week, of course, course is another reason to celebrate. It's the beginning of our 17th season. Which of course... The third psychotemporal link established. Psychotemporal links in place. Connection complete. Project Witch Finder has successfully achieved the establishment phase. Phase two begins a power rival.

They all take me a murder of... Of the witch! What? What the... Abigail? Huh? no sign of her i-i must have been dreaming or well something goodness i've napped for a few hours oh oh tobias mentioned the reverend he always does get jumpy before the thirty-first i should go check on him Tobias, Abigail, what's the rush? Goodness, you both look like you've just seen a ghost. Close. We saw the Reverend again. And he said, in the church, barely alive.

Margaret Sterling's back. The Reverend found her in the church all sick and hurt, sir. You remember Margaret Sterling, don't you, Mayor Crombie? She left the town some ten years back. She's the lady that everybody said was a... Which? The No Sleep Podcast presents their 2021 Halloween episode. Audio production by Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett.

Musical score composed by Brandon Boone. The project Witchfinder script was written by Olivia White. Visit the no sleeppodcast.com to learn more about our show and the people who bring it to you. You'll also find hundreds of hours of audio horror storytelling in our archives. Join us on November 7th for the start of Season 17 of the No Sleep Podcast. Happy Halloween. This audio production is copyright 2021 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All rights reserved.

The copyrights for the stories are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program. is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media, Inc.