All Hallows' Eve
Hal L. O'ween
“All Hallows’ Eve”
By “Hal L. O’ween”
Copyright 2012 “Hal L. O’ween” (Text by Each Individual Author) All rights reserved.
Copyright 2012 Gretchen Steen (Cover Illustration) All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9781301477180
Devin Berglund, Brian Bigelow, Melissa Blume, Carol Bond, Michelle Patricia Browne, Jaleta Clegg, Richard Cotton, Russell Cruse, J. A. Cunningham, Toy Davis, Bella Doerres, Debra Elliott, Jiva Fang, Paul Freeman, Joseph Alan Gharagheer, Pamela Griffiths, Erik Gustafson, Rylee Hales, Denise Hemphill, Bruce Hesselbach, Rob Holliday, Katrina Jack, Gerald D. Johnston, Mel L. Kinder, Merita King, Pamela K. Kinney, Neil Leckman, Tracy Lesch, Rosemary Lynch, Ellen McKinney, Wolfen Lee McKoy, Shannon Marie Mead, Jason Mueller and C. L. Foster, Matthew Christopher Nelson, Sharon Van Orman, Patrick Ottuso, Cheryl C. Ramirez, Martin Reaves, Katherine Rochholz, Kincaid Savoie, Adam Sifre and Splinker, Gretchen Steen, Michael L. Turner, Rahima Warren, Richard A. Wentworth, Lisa Williamson, Sherill Willis, Stephen L. Wilson, Kay D. Ziegler.
Table of Contents
Chapter 01 A Nice Pair of Shoes ~ Sharon Van Orman
Chapter 02 The Unimaginable ~ Gretchen Steen
Chapter 03 A Witch’s Kiss ~ Katrina Jack
Chapter 04 Soul Mates ~ Jaleta Clegg
Chapter 05 Truth or Dare ~ Carol Bond
Chapter 06 The Swamp Vine ~ Matthew C. Nelson
Chapter 07 This Old House ~ Paul Freeman
Chapter 08 Marker ~ Brian Bigelow
Chapter 09 The Captain’s Inheritance ~ Bruce Hesselbach
Chapter 10 Billy Carver ~ Jason Mueller and C. L. Foster
Chapter 11 Haunting Irony ~ Joseph Alan Gharagheer
Chapter 12 Night Cache ~ Cheryl C. Ramirez
Chapter 13 Linda Vista Hospital … In Memoriam ~ Martin Reaves
Chapter 14 The Voice Beckons ~ Erik Gustafson
Chapter 15 The Fog Cemetery ~ Matthew C. Nelson
Chapter 16 Hippity Hoppity ~ Adam Sifre and Splinker
Chapter 17 Last Will and Testament ~ Jiva Fang
Chapter 18 The Sleeper ~ Pamela Griffiths
Chapter 19 Cursed` Me ~ Kay D. Ziegler
Chapter 20 Lost Cause ~ Ellen McKinney
Chapter 21 Spider Face ~ Mel L. Kinder
Chapter 22 The Coffin-Cage ~ Sherrill Willis
Chapter 23 First Day on the Job: The Hunter ~ Gerald D. Johnston
Chapter 24 Chaos Theory and the Clown ~ Neil Leckman
Chapter 25 Dead for Good ~ Rosemary Lynch
Chapter 26 Unlucky ~ Gretchen Steen
Chapter 27 The Band Marched Through ~ Erik Gustafson
Chapter 28 Mirror Mirror ~ Debra Elliott
Chapter 29 Give Me Something Good To Eat ~ Pamela K. Kinney
Chapter 30 Imaginary Friends ~ Kay D. Ziegler
Chapter 31 Harvest Moon ~ Martin Reaves
Chapter 32 My First Time ~ J. A. Cunningham
Chapter 33 Sleeping Beauty ~ Katherine Rochholz
Chapter 34 Curse of the Dryad ~ Wolfen Lee McKoy
Chapter 35 Beware of the Halloween Spirit ~ Pamela Griffiths
Chapter 36 A Tasty Twist ~ Stephen L. Wilson
Chapter 37 Written For and During ~ Bruce Hesselbach
Chapter 38 The Call ~ Rahima Warren
Chapter 39 The Corn Maze ~ Matthew C. Nelson
Chapter 40 Spider ~ Adam Sifre
Chapter 41 A Mother’s Confession ~ Joseph Alan Gharagheer
Chapter 42 Embracing the Beast ~ Mel L. Kinder
Chapter 43 Borne of Pain ~ Patrick Ottuso
Chapter 44 The Storm ~ Gerald D. Johnston
Chapter 45 Remember Me! ~ Shannon Marie Mead
Chapter 46 The Collectibles ~ Devin Berglund
Chapter 47 The Dollmaker ~ Michelle Patricia Browne
Chapter 48 Tommy’s Decorations ~ Gretchen Steen
Chapter 49 Bitter Cold ~ Richard A. Wentworth
Chapter 50 Iguana at Halloween ~ Denise Hemphill
Chapter 51 The Final Resting Place ~ Pamela Griffiths
Chapter 52 Out with the New, in with the old Ones ~ Matthew C. Nelson
Chapter 53 Zombie Brains ~ Katherine Rochholz
Chapter 54 Candyman ~ Neil Leckman
Chapter 55 Lug Nuts ~ Adam Sifre
Chapter 56 The Box ~ Kay D. Ziegler
Chapter 57 In Space … No One Can Hear You Scream ~ Lisa Williamson
Chapter 58 Halloween ~ Richard Cotton
Chapter 59 Away With the Faeries ~ Russell Cruse
Chapter 60 #28: Interchangeable ~ Jiva Fang
Chapter 61 When Beauty Meets Morbid ~ Debra Elliott
Chapter 62 Daddy’s Little Girl ~ Martin Reaves
Chapter 63 Hide and Seek ~ Tracy Lesch
Chapter 64 Playing with the Dead ~ Toy Davis
Chapter 65 Together for Eternity ~ Bella Doerres
Chapter 66 Escape! ~ Joseph Alan Gharagheer
Chapter 67 The Choices We Make ~ Michael L. Turner
Chapter 68 Cumberland Road Ghost ~ Sharon Van Orman
Chapter 69 Meet the Parents ~ Merita King
Chapter 70 A Heated Situation ~ Kincaid Savoie
Chapter 71 Dark Winds ~ Wolfen Lee McKoy
Chapter 72 Dead End ~ Melissa Blume
Chapter 73 At the Movies ~ Pamela K. Kinney
Chapter 74 Monster Bash ~ Jason Mueller and C. L. Foster
Chapter 75 Monsters In White ~ Devin Berglund
Chapter 76 Eidolon Hunter ~ Rob Holliday
Chapter 77 Just A Deer ~ Rylee Hales
Chapter 78 The End ~ Thank You
****
Chapter 01
“A Nice Pair of Shoes”
Sharon Van Orman
Omaha, Nebraska, USA
“Dammit, Becky. I am getting mud all over my Jimmy Choo’s”
“Then why are you wearing them?” Becky asked, as we made our way through the darkened graveyard.
“Because they look cute with my outfit,” Lisa replied.
“Becky, why are we here?” I asked, weaving between the branches of the pine trees. They grew like sentinels along the wrought-iron fence that marched around the perimeter of the cemetery. The white fire of the moon barely penetrated their dense growth offering us glimpses of a trail that was meant to be trod by day.
“It’s All Hallows Eve,” she said punctuating her words with a wave of her fairy wand. Her fake fairy wings brushed against me, shedding glitter. I sighed, I would never get all that glitter off.
“Becky, if you start with that “tonight is the night that the walls between the worlds grow thin” nonsense I am going to hit you with my matching Jimmy Choo bag.”
“Cute bag, by the way,” I said.
“I know!” Lisa squealed. “And I got it on sale,” she whispered conspiratorially. She was dressed as Marie Antoinette. Well, how Marie Antoinette would have dressed if she had a pimp.
I was still wearing the scrubs from my shift at the hospital. I hadn’t expected to get off work in time to take part in the festivities. I was on call and fully expected to have to go back. Not only was it Halloween, but there was a full moon. Ask any paramedic or police officer about the full moon and they will tell you the same story. It brings out the crazy in people. No idea why, but it does.
I hadn’t been paying attention to where we were going. I had been too busy fighting branches and avoiding spider webs that spanned the distance from one tree to the next like silver necklaces that danced with dew.
I almost collided with the b
ustle of Lisa’s dress when we stopped suddenly. The un-weathered marble of the tombstone marked this as a new grave. I did not need to read the name to know what it said. I came here often.
“Becky,” I exhaled.
“I know sweetie, but it has been almost a year. You need to deal with your grief and put it behind you.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” Becky asked shrugging her shoulders which caused a dusting of glitter to settle around the grave. I sighed again. It was getting to be a habit.
“I mean, why do I have to move on? I loved him. Why is a year all I get to mourn?”
“It’s just no good for you to carry all that sorrow around,” Lisa said as she moved to stand on my other side, aerating the soil with the heels of her shoes.
“Listen, I know you two mean well. But it’s too soon. Just give me some time.”
Becky had brought along a huge bag that no self-respecting fairy would have dared carry. She patted me on the shoulder and put the bag on the ground. As she began to unpack it I couldn’t help but think of Mary Poppins. Sweet ways to make the medicine go down began to filter through my brain.
“Great, I will never get that out of my head now,” I mumbled as she continued to unpack.
Becky was a Wiccan. I had known that for a while, but she had never made more than a superficial reference to it. Judging from the items she was pulling out of her bag, she clearly had begun to take it seriously. I wondered when all this had happened. But then, I will not profess to have paid much attention to my friends in the last year.
I watched as she drew a circle around the grave in salt. She placed four black candles on the ground and lit them. Chills ran up my spine as she began to chant. Lisa chanted along with her in a strong confident voice. They had obviously been planning this.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“We are going to raise his spirit so that we can find out who his killer is,” Lisa said nonchalantly. “Maybe if we can get him some justice you will be able to move on.”
A wind picked up, scattering the fallen maple leaves that had left their trees barren skeletons. I watched as they swirled and eddied, and yet inside the circle the air was still. The flames on the candles never flickered. The hair on my arms stood on end as I turned back to Lisa and Becky and the ghost of my lover, Brett.
My mouth fell open as I looked at him. He seemed so real. No transparent ghost here, but lifelike, corporeal. “Brett, who killed you? Can you spell it?” Becky asked holding up a Ouija board for him to point to. He didn’t need it. Instead he raised his arm, clad in the suit his mother picked out for him, and pointed to me.
As we stood there the ghosts of all the others gathered around outside the circle. I saw my neighbor who always stole my paper. The guy from down the street that let his dog use my yard as his personal toilet. My old gym teacher from high school. He was my first. I killed him after our final track meet when he caught me alone in the locker room. I was proud of that one. I turned to look at my two friends who were staring at me in shock and horror tinged with dawning comprehension.
“Well, this is really annoying,” I said taking the scalpel from my pocket. “I told you two to leave things alone. But you just wouldn’t listen.”
Afterward, I cleaned the blood of my two friends off on my scrubs. As their ghosts joined the army of phantom onlookers I reached down and slid Lisa’s shoes off her feet, grabbed the matching bag and dumped the contents on top of her.
“There truly isn’t anything like a nice pair of shoes.”
*
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sharon.vanorman
My Blog “Always to the Unknown Friend”: www.nondeplumeblog.blogspot.com/
****
Back to Table of Contents
Chapter 02
“The Unimaginable”
(Excerpt)
Gretchen Steen
Pensacola, Florida, USA
‘If only that truck driver had paid attention, I wouldn’t be stuck in this … this God awful contraption for the rest of my life …’ Maggie thought as she stared into the computer monitor.
“I’m only fifty-three and dead from my waist down … DAMN HIM,” she growled and pushed herself backward, away from my cluttered computer desk.
She glared at the piles of papers, scribbled notes, an empty coffee cup and numerous pill vials. The house was a wreck, the roof leaked and the septic didn’t work. She couldn’t fix it, she had no money; and she couldn’t do the repairs anyway.
The computer was her life after the accident, broad-sided by a semi.
‘I shouldn’t have survived … I wish I hadn’t. But I did and here I sit, watching the world fall apart around me.’
Buzz … Buzz … Another text message. It was from Maggie’s only son, Günter.
‘Mom … I Love You!!!’ was all it said.
They hadn’t finished their conversation, but something was wrong—terribly wrong.
Maggie wheeled herself back to the laptop quickly.
“Why is this taking so long?” she shouted, as she slammed the mouse on the desk. The online TV channel opened and she read the headlines.
It had begun. Why hadn’t anyone listened? Sheep to slaughter, that’s all it was; history repeating itself.
*
THUD … THUD … CRASH …
“Find anyone here and hurry, we don’t have all night,” yelled a deep voice from the front of the house.
‘I can’t hide … why are they here … I’ve done nothing wrong!!!’ Maggie thought as her crippled body began to tremble.
The intruders fumbled and destroyed each room. They found their target.
Maggie stared into the monitor; her cell phone buzzed away, she said nothing.
A firm, strong hand grabbed her shoulder and forcibly turned her around.
“You are coming with us, Miss Weiss. It has been determined you are an enemy of the state,” the tallest mercenary stated.
Dressed in a black uniform, complete with patent-leather brimmed hat and shiny boots, the one thing that stood out … a small pin proudly displayed on his lapel.
“Lift her up, I’ll get what’s here … MOVE IT!!” another shouted.
Maggie slapped her own face in disbelief, ‘is this all a dream?’ She opened her eyes to M16’s pointed at her head.
She was snatched up and carried through what was left of her home and out into the yard. Idling in the street was a converted school bus; painted black, a whirling yellow light broke the darkness. One of the men opened the emergency door and two more grabbed her. They hoisted her limp body into the vehicle. The seats were changed; they lined the sides of the bus now.
Cramped together were several others, scooped up by the madmen.
“Do NOT talk to anyone!!” she was instructed firmly.
‘I know these people—my neighbors … my friends … but WHY?’
The engine revved. The driver sped down the street and out of the neighborhood.
The interstate was crowded, but not with the usual traffic … only buses … THESE BUSES!!!
At every exit, some would depart the caravan. Maggie’s pressed on. For miles they travelled in silence and fear. Some turned to see where they were; but they couldn’t tell in the pitch dark.
Up ahead was another exit. The bus slowed and came to a stop at the end of the ramp.
“Chris … do you know what’s going on?” Maggie whispered to her next-door neighbor sitting beside her. He didn’t reply; only shrugged his shoulders. She looked into his eyes. The happy-go-lucky man she knew had vanished. Looking around at the others; they all had the same despondent expression.
They rode on for a few more miles and a well-lit complex appeared. It was surrounded by eight-foot high cinderblock walls, barbed-wire and razor-ribbon. The buildings were strangely familiar.
Maggie’s horrified thoughts became clear ‘FEMA trailers … it was true … ALL OF IT!!!’
The bus pulled up to the ent
rance and the driver stopped for inspection. He opened the side door and handed the guard a clipboard filled to the max with paperwork.
“OK, pass through, stop at the first building,” the guard instructed.
Slowly the bus moved forward and stopped. The silence had turned into a low moaning.
“Stand and prepare for unloading!!” the driver shouted.
All but one did.
“I said STAND, bitch!!” the driver shouted as he looked back at Maggie.
“Sir, I can’t, I’m disabled, paralyzed from my waist down.”
Suddenly she was shoved to stand and fell off the seat to the floor.
“I CAN’T STAND. YOU ALREADY KNEW THAT … WHY DIDN’T YOU BELIEVE ME???” she screamed, her eyes filled with tears.
“Get her up … NOW” the driver retorted, disgust evident in his face.
“She’ll be the last to go, get the others out of here and process them.”
Everyone moved forward except Maggie.
‘My heart is racing … my meds … I only have a few days worth in my pocket …’
The bus was now vacant as Maggie watched her friends through the window being led away. She looked at the buildings; they stretched out into oblivion. The area was well lit, but the buildings were dark and deserted.
The driver slammed the side door shut and hit the gas. Quickly they passed the white aluminum structures, one by one, she lost track at fifty. The bus stopped, the door swung open and two men entered.
“She’s back there, says she’s paralyzed. She wouldn’t stand when ordered. Take her, she’s ALL YOURS!” the driver stated with a vicious grin.
Two uniformed men strode down the aisle, their boots clicked as they walked.
“What’s your name?”
“Margaret Weiss, sir. What am I doing here, have I no rights?”
The men’s laughter echoed.
“NO!! None at all and because of your opposing voice, you never shall again. All those you have contact with will be confined as well. Your cell phone and laptop have been confiscated—vital information to put you on trial … as a civilian terrorist!”
“BUT I’M NOT! This country was once the greatest on earth. Don’t you remember? We had rights and liberties granted by the Constitution and Bill of Rights …”
“Those days are gone … your precious country has fallen!” one said brusquely.
Maggie was removed from the bus and paraded toward the compound.
Her eyes strained into the distance. Tall stacks spouted smoke and choking ash …
