TRICK OR TREAT

 The streets of Walden’s Lane echoed with the laughter of children going door to door, trick or treating. The air was crisp and slightly damp from the rain earlier in the day, the full moon overhead reflecting in the puddles on the street. Jack-o-lanterns with bright, glowing faces grinned out at the children and their bags and buckets full of sweets.

Weston leaned against the old oak tree not far from the house at the end of the street, watching the kids come and go. A lanky youth of fourteen, his shock of black hair peeked out from underneath his dark gray hoodie. He had long since outgrown costumes and trick or treating, but he still liked candy. And he especially liked candy that had been snatched from the hands of snot-nosed brats. He needed a loner, though. Tonight’s hunting had been tough so far, with most of the children traveling in groups or with their parents. He stood there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shirt, patiently waiting like a spider in the middle of its web.

That’s when he saw him.

A kid all by himself, dressed up as some sort of fox or something. Weston furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out what the costume was supposed to be. The reddish-brown face mask looked like that of a fox, but the boy had five furry tails attached to the back of his belt. Weston smiled when he saw the boy carried one of those stupid plastic pumpkins with the jack-o-lantern face, full to the brim with candy.

Weston looked around and saw that the streets were almost empty now; it was getting late. He watched as the fox-boy went up to the last house on the street, and decided the time was right to make his move.

“Trick or treat!” the boy said as the door opened and an old man stepped out onto the porch holding a bowl full of treats.

The young boy held up his plastic bucket and Weston saw the old man place a handful of candy into it with a smile, then close the door. Weston was waiting for him when the boy turned and headed back down the steps.

“Going somewhere?” said Weston as he stepped into the yellow glow of the porch lamps, the grinning faces of the pumpkins on the front steps glaring at him.

The fox-boy—probably eight or nine by the look of him—stopped with a gasp.

“W-who… who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare, brat,” snarled Weston as he took a step closer. “Hand it over.”

“W-what?”

“The candy,” said Weston. “Hand it over—now.”

“B-but…”

Weston made a fist and cracked his knuckles, the snapping echoing in the dim light.

The boy held out his candy bucket, but Weston saw the glint of a shiny wrapper in the boy’s hand.

“All of it,” he said menacingly.

“B-but… it’s only one piece… please? They’re my favorite…” said the boy with tears in his voice.

Weston held out his hand, and the boy reluctantly placed a long, rectangular candy wrapped in a shiny purple wrapper in his hand.

“Think I’ll eat this one first,” said Weston with a grin as he slowly unwrapped the candy in front of the boy and popped it in his mouth.

He chewed slowly and swallowed, but noticed that the boy was smirking at him.

“What’s so funny, brat?”

Before the boy could answer, a searing pain tore through Weston’s temples, and then he doubled over, clutching his stomach. The world seemed to fold in on itself, and he felt a terrible spinning sensation. His vision blurred and with a sudden lurch he felt the cold cobblestones of the street against his face. The fox-boy was standing over him, grinning from ear to ear.

His stomach lurched as he felt himself being lifted upward and he was suddenly looking into the amber-colored eyes of the boy with the fox mask.

“Barely a challenge at all,” said the boy, who had a strange accent and whose voice was much deeper now. As Weston watched the boy tilted his head back and laughed, a high-pitched barking laugh that sounded like a fox!

Weston panicked and tried to speak but found he couldn’t.

Oh god! What’s happening to me?

HELP!

He tried to scream but his mouth wouldn’t move; he couldn’t feel his arms or legs now either.

He felt himself sway from side to side as the boy walked up the steps, and he saw the door open.

“Well done, Luca!” came the voice of an old man.

The world spun again as Weston felt himself lifted up until he was suddenly looking into the eyes of the old man he had seen moments before. His bright green eyes twinkled, the dim lamplight illuminating his silver hair and neatly trimmed goatee.

“There’s always one,” said the man.

“You seem to like taking candy, so now,” said the old man with a grin, “your job is to hand it out.”

The old man turned and Weston saw a reflection in the window of the house. The old man was holding up a plastic jack-o-lantern full of candy, a length of tattered black netting tied to the handle.

Weston felt his body sway as the man shook the bucket and fear surged through him.

“My name is Rowan,” said the man as he looked into the eyes of the jack-o-lantern. “And you’ve already met my companion, Luca. He’s a Kitsune, and he does so loathe arrogance.”

Weston felt himself spin again as he was lowered to the cold stone step.

“Nine hundred and ninety-nine,” said Rowan. “Hand out that many pieces of candy before midnight on next Halloween, or your soul belongs to the fox.”

The amber eyes of the fox-boy suddenly appeared in front of Weston.

“Trick or treat,” said Luca with a grin, his lower fangs now protruding slightly. He padded silently away, vanishing in the shadows.

Rowan turned and, after snuffing out the candles, turned off the porch light and closed the door, plunging Weston into darkness.

NO!

***

A light clicked on somewhere overhead and Weston woke with a start. A dream! Maybe it had all been just a terrible dream!

But then he realized he couldn’t move, and the chill of fear settled over him again. He felt himself rise into the air as he was lifted off the ground and was soon looking into the sparkling green eyes of Rowan.

“Well, well,” chuckled the old man as he walked towards the front door. “Did you enjoy your little nap?”

Nap indeed, thought Weston, grimly. He had counted every single hour that had passed for the last three hundred and sixty-four days. Three hundred and sixty-four days spent on the floor of a closet sandwiched in between pairs of old boots.

“Tonight’s your night!” Rowan said with a smile as he turned the bucket and looked into Weston’s jack-o-lantern eyes. “Only nine hundred and ninety-nine pieces of candy to go, and then you’ll be as free as a bird.”

Weston felt himself being lowered onto the front steps, and he could see the streetlamps flickering on as dusk set in around them.

“You won’t be able to speak, of course,” said Rowan as he began lighting the candles placed at random around the front porch.

“But if you really concentrate you might be able to toss some candy into someone’s path.”

Weston heard the door close behind him. He could feel a cool mist as rain sprinkled down from the cloudy night sky.

Rain! Oh no… please, please not rain!

From somewhere up ahead he heard laughter and soon saw three children in costumes walking up the path towards him.

“Whoa!” said the taller one dressed as a devil. “Look at that pumpkin full of candy!”

Yes! Yes please, please take it! Take it ALL! Weston thought desperately.

He felt his plastic body shake as the boy dressed as a devil grabbed a handful of sweets and put them in his bag.

Twenty-three! Weston thought gleefully, though he wasn’t certain how he knew the exact number of pieces that had just been taken.

He felt his body shake again as the boy’s companions each took their handful of candy and walked on towards the next house.

Sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty… yes sixty-five! Sixty-five pieces gone in the first few minutes!

With a shudder, Weston felt an odd sensation of fullness as the candy filled the bucket back to the rim of the pumpkin.

And so, the night continued. Trick-or-treaters would walk up the path—sometimes alone, sometimes in groups—and take handfuls of candy out of Weston. Each time as they left, he felt himself refilled as the curse worked its magic. As the night wore on, and the piece count grew, he began to have hope. Four hundred pieces… five hundred pieces… slowly the count continued upward. One kid only took a single piece—a single piece! Weston had shuddered and a few pieces of candy fell down the steps in front of the boy, only to be kicked into the gutter when the boy didn’t notice them. Still, as the night wore on the number climbed and Weston began thinking it might, just might be possible.

Nine hundred and ninety-three, he thought triumphantly. It was getting late, but surely there would be at least a few more kids before the night was over. He watched as slowly the candles and pumpkins on the houses around him were snuffed out.

No! No, no, no, only six more pieces! There must be someone, there must be…

The leaves on the path crunched and rustled as someone approached. Weston could see in the dim light it was a kid dressed as a ghost, carrying a candy bucket that was almost empty.

Yes, oh yes! Her bucket is almost empty! She’ll grab handfuls!

The girl walked up the steps and smiled at the sight of the pumpkin full of candy. She carefully reached over and took a few, putting them into her bucket.

Five! She only took FIVE PIECES! Weston began to panic. Nine hundred and ninety-eight! Only one more piece! Just one!

Weston concentrated harder than he ever had in his life, willing the candy to leave him and drop in front of the girl. He shook slightly and a long piece of candy in a bright purple wrapper tumbled down the step, coming to rest in front of the girl’s feet. She picked it up and looked at it, a puzzled expression on her face.

The purple wrapper… the same purple wrapper just like the one he had greedily demanded that Luca hand over to him. Weston felt sick. Why… why had he done it?

I’m sorry…

He saw the girl turn the candy over in her hands and smile.

YES! TAKE IT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TAKE IT!

With a shrug she leaned over and placed it back on top of Weston’s head in the candy pile.

“Mustn’t be greedy,” she said happily as she walked off into the night.

NO! NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!? YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT!

More pumpkins and porch lights began winking out, and Weston heard the door open behind him. One by one Rowan snuffed out the candles, then went back inside shutting off the porch light and plunging Weston into darkness.

Two amber-colored eyes appeared in front of Weston, followed by the sharp-nosed toothy grin of Luca. High-pitched, barking laughter surrounded him as Luca leaned in close and whispered:

“Trick or treat!”

***