Scratch sat on his front porch swing watching the kids come and go in their Halloween costumes. He usually enjoyed having trick-or-treaters come around. But it seemed a bittersweet occasion this year.
How many of these kids will be alive in just a few weeks? he wondered.
He sighed. Probably none of them. The deadline was near and no one was paying attention to his messages.
The porch swing chains were creaking. There was a light, warm rain falling, and Scratch hoped that the kids wouldn't catch cold. He had a basket of candy on his lap, and he was being pretty generous. It was getting late, and soon there would be no more kids.
In Scratch's mind Grandpa was still complaining, even though the cranky old man had died years ago. And it didn't matter that Scratch was grown now, he was never free from the old man's advice.
"Look at that one in the cloak and the black plastic mask," Grandpa said. "Call that a costume?"
Scratch hoped that he and Grandpa weren't about to have another argument.
"He's dressed up as Darth Vader, Grandpa," he said.
"I don't care who the hell he's supposed to be. It's a cheap, store-bought outfit. When I took you trick-or-treating, we always made your costumes for you."
Scratch remembered those costumes. To turn him into a mummy, Grandpa had wrapped him up in torn-up bed sheets. To make him into a knight in shining armor, Grandpa had decked him out in cumbersome poster board covered with aluminum foil, and he'd carried a lance made out of a broomstick. Grandpa's costumes were always creative.
Still, Scratch didn't remember those Halloweens fondly. Grandpa would always curse and complain while getting him into those outfits. And when Scratch got home from trick-or-treating…for a moment, Scratch felt like a little boy again. He knew that Grandpa was always right. Scratch didn't always understand why, but that didn't matter. Grandpa was right, and he was wrong. That was just the way things were. It was the way things had always been.
Scratch had been relieved when he got too old for trick-or-treating. Ever since then, he'd been free to sit on the porch dispensing candy to kids. He was happy for them. He was glad that they were enjoying childhood, even if he hadn't.
Three kids clambered up onto the porch. A boy was dressed as Spiderman, a girl as Catwoman. They looked about nine years old. The third kid's costume made Scratch smile. A little girl, about seven years old, was wearing a bumblebee outfit.
"Trick-or-treat!" they all shouted as they gathered in front of Scratch.
Scratch chuckled and rummaged around in the basket for candy. He gave some to the kids, who thanked him and went away.
"Stop giving them candy!" Grandpa growled. "When are you going to stop encouraging the little bastards?"
Scratch had been quietly defying Grandpa for a couple of hours now. He'd have to pay for it later.
Meanwhile, Grandpa was still grumbling. "Don't forget, we've got work to do tomorrow night."
Scratch didn't reply, just listened to the creaking porch swing. No, he wouldn't forget what had to be done tomorrow night. It was a dirty job, but it had to be done.
*
Libby Clark followed her big brother and her cousin into the dark woods that lay behind all the neighborhood backyards. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be home snugly in bed.
Her brother, Gary, was leading the way, carrying a flashlight. He looked all weird in his Spiderman costume. Her cousin Denise was following Gary in her Catwoman outfit. Libby was trotting along behind both of them.
"Come on, you two," Gary said, pushing ahead.
He slid between two bushes just fine, and so did Denise, but Libby's costume was all puffy and got caught on some branches. Now she had something new to be scared about. If the bumblebee costume got ruined, Mommy would have a fit. Libby managed to get untangled and scurried to catch up.
"I want to go home," Libby said.
"Go right ahead," Gary said, moving right along.
But of course Libby was too scared to go back. They had come way too far already. She didn't dare go back alone.
"Maybe we all should go back," Denise said. "Libby's scared."
Gary stopped and turned around. Libby wished she could see his face behind that mask.
"What's the matter, Denise?" he said. "Are you scared too?"
Denise laughed nervously.
"No," she said. Libby could tell she was lying.
"Then come on, both of you," Gary said.
The little group kept on moving. The ground was soggy and slimy, and Libby was up to her knees in wet weeds. At least it had stopped raining. The moon was starting to show through the clouds. But it was also getting colder, and Libby was damp all over, and she was shivering, and she was really, really scared.
Finally the trees and bushes opened onto a large clearing. Steam was rising up from the wet ground. Gary stopped right up to the edge of the space, and so did Denise and Libby.
"Here it is," Gary whispered, pointing. "Lookit-it's square, just like there was supposed to be a house or something here. But there's not a house. There's nothing. Trees and bushes can't even grow here. Just weeds is all. That's because it's cursed ground. Ghosts live here."
Libby reminded herself of what Daddy said.
"There's no such thing as ghosts."
Even so, her knees were shaking. She was afraid she was going to pee herself. Mommy sure wouldn't like that.
"What are those?" Denise asked.
She pointed to two shapes rising up out of the ground. To Libby they looked like big pipes that were bent over at the top, and they were almost completely covered with ivy.
"I don't know," Gary said. "They remind me of submarine periscopes. Maybe the ghosts are watching us. Go take a look, Denise."
Denise let out a scared-sounding laugh.
"You have a look!" Denise said.
"Okay, I will," Gary said.
Gary stepped none too boldly out into the clearing and walked toward one of the shapes. He stopped in his tracks about three feet away from it. Then he turned around and came back to rejoin his cousin and sister.
"I can't tell what it is," he said.
Denise laughed again. "That's because you didn't even look!" she said.
"Did so," Gary said.
"Did not! You didn't even get near it!"
"I did so get near it. If you're so curious, go check it out yourself."
Denise didn't say anything for a moment. Then she trotted out onto the bare patch. She got a little closer to the shape than Gary, but she trotted straight back without stopping.
"I don't know what it is either," she said.
"It's your turn to look, Libby," Gary said.
Libby's fear was creeping up in her throat just like that ivy.
"Don't make her go, Gary," Denise said. "She's too little."
"She's not too little. She's growing up. It's time she acted like it."
Gary gave Libby a sharp shove. She found herself a couple of feet out into the space. She turned around and tried to go back again, but Gary stretched his hand out to stop her.
"Huh-uh," he said. "Denise and I went. You've got to go too."
Libby gulped hard and turned around and faced the empty space with its two bent things. She had the creepy feeling that they could be looking back at her.
She remembered her daddy's words again…
"There's no such thing as ghosts."
Daddy wouldn't lie about a thing like that. So what was she scared of, anyway?
Besides, she was getting mad at Gary for being a bully. She was almost as mad as she was scared.
I'll show him, she thought.
Her legs still shaking, she took step after step out into the big square space. As she walked toward the metal thing, Libby actually felt braver.
By the time she got close to the thing-closer than even Gary or Denise had gotten-she was feeling pretty proud of herself. Still, she couldn't tell what it was.
With more courage than she even thought she had, she reached her hand out toward it. She pushed her fingers among the ivy leaves, hoping that her hand wouldn't get snatched or eaten or maybe something worse. Her fingers came up against the hard, cold metal pipe.
What is it? she wondered.
Now she felt a slight vibration in the pipe. And she heard something. It seemed to be coming from the pipe.
She leaned really close to the pipe. The sound was faint, but she knew that it wasn't her imagination. The sound was real, and it was just like a woman weeping and moaning.
Libby jerked her hand away from the pipe. She was too frightened to move or speak or scream or do anything. She couldn't even breathe. It felt like that time when she'd fallen out of a tree on her back and the wind got knocked out of her lungs.
She knew that she had to get away. But she stayed frozen. It was like she had to tell her body how to move.
Turn and run, she thought.
But for a few terrifying seconds she just couldn't do it.
Then her legs seemed to start running all on their own, and she found herself dashing back toward the edge of the clearing. She was terrified that something really bad would reach out and grab her and yank her back.
When she arrived at the edge of the woods, she bent over, gasping for breath. Now she realized that she hadn't even been breathing all this time.
"What's the matter?" Denise asked.
"A ghost!" Libby gasped out. "I heard a ghost!"
She didn't wait for a reply. She tore away and ran as fast as she could back the way they'd come. She heard her brother and cousin running behind her.
"Hey, Libby stop!" her brother called out. "Wait up!"
But there was no way she was going to stop running until she was safe at home.
