#halloween

The widow, Laura, walked into the garden. Cracked Stone walls surrounded her, their green vines slithering toward bushes plump with blood-red berries. At the center of the garden stood a rectangular stone basin shaped like an angel. It knelt before the pool as if to deliver water from its mouth. Yet what flowed was bleak black water, filled with sticks and the smal bodies of dying insects. When she was younger, she remembered tossing coins and watching them sink into the water's darkness.…

Every small town seems to have its own claim to fame. Something that draws in the looky-loos to spend their big-city cash. I’m sure you’ve made your fair share of roadside stops or taken a backroad to see the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, toured the mistress’s house of Blackbeard, where he may or may not have buried his treasure, or touched the hanging tree of those poor ethereal women. Well, my town is famous for red pumpkins.

Annabella was a Witch, She lived in a house made of sticks. Through the woods, and over a stream Where very few people are ever seen. ~ In the village, she loved a man. Jeremiah, as he stands. But no matter how hard Annabella tried... She could never catch Jeremiah's eye. ~ In her House of Sticks, she cried. Feeling her heart slowly die. But soon a vile plan was born, To get Jeremiah, this, Annabella had sworn. ~ For the toxin of love: an ingredient was needed.

I never believed in urban legends, not at all. Until I saw him. This is a very generic way to start, but it started one evening when I was walking home from working; the streets were empty, but then I saw the man in the distance of the streets at an outdoor market. There was a small man hunched over with a massive, overstuffed pack with various masks on it. That grin, that GRIN... it was the first thing that caught me; it stretched past his cheeks and just stayed there.

“Dude, SHUT UP!” “What?” “Yeah, he’s right so please shut up. You’ve been telling the same exact setup, it is always something like someone just hunting a guy down and then everybody dying. Be original for once.” My friend, let’s call her Lucy, said to Jake. I threw my head back and laughed as I put the melted marshmallow inside the s'mores, broke chocolate bars, and slid them inside of the graham crackers.

Tommy Morgan did not have the best life. Coming from a broken home, the young 11-year-old only experienced the worst: his father would return home drunken like a skunk, and he would get into heated arguments with his wife over money and how since he was the bread maker, he could do with his earnings what he saw fit. Tommy’s mother would do chores around the house, her eyes red from sobbing.

We all knew Spirit Halloween, a store that is filled to the brim with the most messed up animatronics out there, ranging from screaming clowns, decayed zombies, demonically possessed children, and other stuff. Every year, they always push the limits with the level of gore and blood. But what if I told you that there was an animatronic that never made it to the shelves? Well, you’re in for a treat, so keep on reading.

Keira sits on her bed and stares vacantly at the opposing wall. She’s tired and she’d sell her soul to get a few winks in, if only for bad dreams. It’s Halloween night, but she’s not done much to mark the occasion. Just a drink and a chat with her mates. Non-costumed. Somewhere unbusy. Mature. Just a drink and a chat.

“DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK!” The noxiously artificial taste of blue raspberry slid down my throat with sickening sweetness. This was only my third drink of the evening, but I was already feeling pretty lit. “Alright you, stupid pledges now it’s time for the main event.”

I hope this message finds you well. I want to apologize for all the stress I’ve caused these past few months, and the least I can do is explain why I had to leave so abruptly. I do understand if this is a huge red flag to you seeing we’ve only been dating for eight months now. Here goes nothing.

There are a select few hidden among the population—those who are often keenly aware when they are dreaming. They can recall their dreams in vivid detail for days afterward. People like me, who can lucid dream with little effort. If you're one of them, you know that lucid dreaming can sometimes draw your consciousness into liminal spaces, places that exist between the familiar and the unknown. One of these spaces is what I call the Pumpkin Farm.

I tended to hate Halloween. Don’t get me wrong; the candy was always something I would look forward to. Hershey bars were especially my favorite. No, what I disliked about Halloween was dressing up. I’m certain you would find it odd as to why that is. My family had been through some hard times and as such, we often recycled cloths to create Halloween costumes. I was always made fun of because of my raggedy costumes. One time I went as a ghost and the costume was a mix match of fabrics that were…

“Good morning, Mei-Mei” every morning waking up I greeted the small doll usually tucked into my arm, snuggled closely into my chest. For a while Mei-mei was my only friend. For you see, I was born with a crippling condition that keeps me wheelchair bound, so you can guess how most of my life has played out…Hospital trips..bad days where I could hardly get out of bed, All the painful surgeries.

The year was 1976

She touched her, but pulled her hand away and glared at the woman with angry green eyes. She began speaking in a low voice that only the reflection could hear. The confusion and frustration was simmering white-hot now. Was the ornate mirror talking back? "I hate you. Leave me alone. You make me sick." Someone called her name and she snapped to attention. "It's not my fault. She's the one who started it. Can't you see that?"

The last Heather spoke to her mother was on Halloween of 2015 when she was twelve years old. Now, it is Halloween of 2024, and she is reminded of the lore that ruined every Halloween for her.

I’ve learned throughout my life that there are specific things that you should never do in your dreams. I’ve learned how to control my surroundings in a dream state, how to remember dreams, but the thing I will never forget was how I created a demon. It was simple to do, and completely accidental, but for those of you wondering how to do it, it is quite simple. All you have to do is break the three rules. Rule number 1: NEVER tell anyone in a dream that they are in your dream.

"Amen... Amen..." It was Sunday, Halloween day, and after the gospel singer was finished with her lyrics of praise, Pastor Newman spoke to his small group of church attendees in his lavaliere, which was attached to his shirt. He smiled warmly to the small gathering. It was a small room, but the main room of the Church was still under repair from the fire that happened 2 months ago, so everyone had to gather in this room for now.

It was a chilly October night, the kind where the wind howled through the trees and the moon cast an eerie glow on everything it touched. I had just moved to Willow Creek, a small town known for its quaint charm and haunted history. Halloween was approaching, and with it came stories of the old Wright house, an abandoned mansion on the outskirts that everyone whispered about.

Cheap masks and Halloween themed clothing were the only ‘costumes’ at the Sprucer Halloween Festival. People in barely decorated Trunk-or-Treat trunks shoved canned food and/or random secondhand objects into kids’ hands. The ‘craft stations’ were several ancient fold-out tables someone had covered in literal trash.