Halloween Crows

Danny is reluctant to go trick and treating

The summer has been the worst Danny has ever known. Not just because his dad died on Halloween last year. No, it’s the worst summer of Danny’s eleven years because there is not a thing he could have done about it. His dad died a hero, all the village told him. He was a firefighter. There were months when all mom could do was stare into the mirror hanging over the bathroom sink. Most mornings she did well, but once in a while the feeling of waking up alone seemed to fill every pore of her body and she’d wind up in tears, sniffling as she brought the racking sobs under control. The weight of her lonesomeness was no less bearable for Danny, despite all the comfort from their friends.

No one, not in all his summers before dad died, had anyone seen Danny sitting still, even in school. He was always the last schoolboy into class and the first exploded out when the bell ended the day. He didn’t want to celebrate Halloween this year, but mom would have none of it. Danny, your dad would want you out there, having fun.

So, on this Friday evening his friends are waiting outside his classroom, expecting Danny to explode out. They will all head out to the fallen oak tree, near the cemetery to talk about what costumes they will wear.

Terry will come as Spiderman because he hardly needs a disguise, just a web. Susan, who Danny considers the prettiest girl who ever lived, is new to the gang and this is her first Halloween as a gang member, and will come as Wonder Woman, having passed the entry tasks; including spending the night alone in the secret treehouse, causing the whole village to be out looking for her. The boys allowed her in after she didn’t squeal. Spud, boring Spud because for the last three years he has simply thrown a sheet over himself, poking eye holes to be a ghost.

So there they stand, waiting, Come on, Danny… they whisper, …come on!

The class door opens. Danny steps out. He doesn’t explode, he steps out and comes down the path to meet his friends. Not running, moving like an old man.

Danny! they shout, in their sad uneasiness.

Hi, gang, greets Danny.

Danny’s face is pale. He tries to smile, but his eyes are mournful. Then Terry asks, with faint enthusiasm…you ready to go to the oak tree, Danny?

Yeah, Danny answers, in a low lonely answer.

Susan, too, what’s wrong, Danny? Are you sick?

Danny wants to explain how this whole year he has felt alone, fooling with computer games, a thousand years from the life he once knew.

Danny asks his friends, does each of your dads, you know, tell you that he loves you?

All three stand looking at Danny, scared for him. They’d never seen him so quiet. No one immediately volunteered to answer, shuffling their feet, chins lowered, hurting for their friend and wondering who should speak first. It was Susan.

Mostly, at night, she says.

Then Spud, dipping his hand into a bag of chips, Mine, too. He ruffles my hair when he tells me.

Terry, eager to cheer his friend, says brightly, only if I wash the car, or when he wants me to mow the lawn. Sometimes I wish he didn’t tell me!

What’s going on, Danny? Spud says.

Danny turns his head, tears readying in his eyes when, in a sudden panic, a murder of crows leaves the tops of the trees, rising into the sky, clouding the evening sun. The gang looks up, never having seen so many crows. Then, as the late afternoon sun shines through again, the crows fly off toward the night.

Danny checks himself and says, it’s nothing…just wondering. Look, get out of here, collect your costumes and meet back here at 7:pm., okay?

You swear? Spud says.

Swear. Danny replies.

The gang disperses. On the way, they touch Danny’s elbow, knock him gently in the chest, Susan daring to kiss his cheek.

Okay, Danny. As long as you’re sure, Susan says.

They walk backward at first, just so they can see Danny standing there, waving at them.

Hurry up, Danny, won’t you? Terry shouts, a long way off.

*

At the same time, in the far universe of shakes, trembles, and hollow places, a voice resonates with the sound of evil. The draught of this voice feeds the flames of despair, and the yellow of evil sound licks fire somewhere beyond time, where dull anger has been brooding for eternity.

Where is he?

The voice that answers is putrefying. He’s escaped, sir. I have the crows searching for him as we speak.

Escaped! No one escapes. The man was to become an angel. I clipped his wings, took him from the gates of Heaven, and you’re telling me he’s escaped!

There was a sharp crack of exploding cretin, flesh sizzled and ash fell in a fountain of sparks. Then the insignificant creature was gone.

Back on the Path to Heaven, the Guardian Angel, saddened by the news of the angel’s abduction, reports in a voice, soft as champagne bubbles, we had great expectations for him, Gabriel. He was an exceptional man on the earth. I will do what I can.

*

When Danny gets home, his mom is busy concocting appetizing smells in the kitchen.

Hello, son, did you have a good day at school? Her voice sounded intentionally light, summery, though the end of October clearly shows itself in the weight in her heart. Lucy, a black and white sheep dog, bounds up to greet Daniel, tail thrashing. Danny drops to his knees, Lucy’s tongue licking him to laughter.

No-one has a good day at school, Danny says, slipping off his backpack and rolling onto his back for Lucy to paw at his chest, barking to go play.

Danny, that isn’t the place for your backpack, you know better than that, and how many times have I asked you not to let Lucy lick your face? Do you have homework?

Lucy keeps Danny pinned to the floor.

A ton of homework, he says, grabbing Lucy’s ears and shaking her head gently.

Well, I’d like you to get it done over the weekend as tonight is Halloween, Danny. I’ll help you if you get stuck, she says.

Sure, mom. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m meeting my friends to go trick or treating after dinner.

No tricks, darling. The people round here have been very special to us since your father died, bear that in mind.

But what if I don’t — you know, get any treats? He says.

Still, no tricks — tricks are for the children, you’re the man of the house now.

Okay… Danny’s sense of mischief falls like a shapeless hat to the floor.

Stop that huffing, young man. Everywhere you go you get goodies, there’s no need for tricks.

Danny believes his mom is the best mom in the world, but on Halloween, she gets all twisted about him being better than nice. It’s really a ‘mom’ thing, he believes. As if you can have a trick or treat night and not do any tricks!

Why did dad never tell me he loved me, mom? He says, almost unheard.

His mom immediately stops what she is doing, coming over to him and fingering the features of his face.

You know how he adored us, you know that. What happens has to happen, there’s no way your dad would have left us were it not so. You know, too, deep in your heart, if he’s in your heart, she says, resting the palm of her hand on his chest, he will always be home.

Your dad was someone who didn’t speak love, Danny. He showed it to you, in every way, as he did me, in everything he did. He had trouble with words, son, he found them hard to speak. But he loved you, and he still loves you, just as he loves me. We have to accept that this time there was no way back. Now go wash your hands, dinner is ready. We can look at your homework after we’ve eaten.

Danny lives with banged up furniture, apple crumble, and carrying out the garbage. As he moves toward the bathroom, he watches mom touch the photograph on the shelf where she keeps all her cooking manuals. It is hopeless to dream…even more hopeless to hope. Time, in the end, has extinguished both.

Eat everything on your plate, Danny, and you can have crumble and ice cream, mum says when Danny reappears.

Danny looks outside the window. It’s not quite dark yet.

What costume are you wearing? She says, making sure even the trick word is not heard. There’s an old sheet in the cupboard if you want to be a ghost.

What is it about adults that they should think what was good forty years ago, is still good today?

Mum, no-one goes trick or treating as a ghost anymore. Well, maybe Spud!

Funny, I saw Dudley’s mother in the village this afternoon, she told me he was going as the Spiderman!

No one calls him Dudley, mom. We call him Spud.

Well, I can assure you his mother does not.

Dad’s old black coat is hanging in the closet. Maybe I could use that…and that favorite stick he used when herding sheep with Lucy.

No, son, I’m sorry, it means too much to me. You can look to see if there’s anything else but not the black coat, darling.

When Danny has finished his ice cream and crumble, dishes put in the sink, he heads back upstairs. The coat would be perfect, but he won’t disobey his mother. Still, when he gets to the closet to look for something, the coat is gone. From the corner of the closet, the stick is gone, too. Mom has moved it somewhere, he believes, so as not to tempt him. He returns down the stairs not having found anything suitable.

On a night of moon brightness, coughs, groans, mutters, and whispers, all the children make their way to other peoples’ houses. Horny beasts, superhero’s, twisted funny kids making an effort to be horrifying, something that should come naturally to most of them, Danny thinks.

The gang are already waiting at the oak tree when Danny approaches. There’s an audible mumbling.

Spud is first to ask…Danny, where’s your costume?

It’s the best costume ever, but it’s too scary to show you until we are out there, Danny says, not really knowing what he’s going to do. Maybe he should have just brought a bed sheet.

Too scary? Susan says, removing her Superwoman cloak, and how scary is that, Danny?

You’ll see, Susan. Remember I warned you, he says, more bravado than fact.

Where shall we start? Terry asks, looking like a very skinny Hulk.

Yeh, where do you think, Danny? Says Spud.

I’m going to catch you up later, Danny says. You won’t know it’s me.

Okay…I bet we do, Danny, says Susan.

I’ll be there. Start at the Woodward’s, Danny tells them.

But right then, the raucous sound of a thousand crows taking flight from the trees, flocks over a man walking with a stick, the sky so thick with crows they blocked the moon that shines on him. The man seems oblivious. As the shadow appears again in the moonlight, entering the cemetery, the crows take to the trees. All becomes quiet.

Wow! — did you ever see ‘The Birds? Told you, didn’t I, evil people always has crows round’em. That sure is one evil old man, uh?

Sure he is. Scars on his face and crows around him, yeh, a dead evil guy alright — you jerk, grow up! Let’s go start tricking some folk! Says Spiderman Spud.

*

Frank Clark doesn’t remember his life, or how he left it. He doesn’t know who he is or where he came from. He’s a man who’s been to hell and back.

He is entirely alone in the world waiting to regain memories after terrible traumas. Some never do. Some can be seen sitting bent on wooden benches, huddled in church corners, cradling themselves in doorways, no-one knowing or understanding them, waiting for time to pass and memories to be restored. There are many like him, washed into eternity where the Voice comes to those who deserve it. It, being a catastrophe of the afterlife. Forming filthy friendships with demons and ghouls that lie in what remains of the human spirit. It is the darkest of all things and once seen, once a lifeless eye casts a glance in its direction, a cretin is the thing they will come. Living in a place where there is no December, where fingers grow fingernails sharp enough to tear the skin from faces, a place of pity and disaster, seething anger and hatred, filled with the cries of those already consumed.

The smoldering of lost cries and forbidden prayers waits in cemeteries unseen, evil murmurings lying deep in the heart of ruin, tears trickling down punished faces, hopes plunged, bitterness roused, while anguish, like a vine on the throat, twists in the souls of those it owns. Its blood laughing in empty veins, for it knows no-one is sure of escaping its oblivion. No-one…but one man!

*

The old man shuffles through the cemetery gates, arms wrapped round his chest, dragging a weakened leg. He shivers and moans and mumbles knowing that evil lurks in the trees all around him. His only defense, a place where love is devotion, strength is beauty, evil is no more than living within the damned hollow spaces outside Heaven.

The bent and twisted his silhouette walks toward the cemetery, moon shining silver on his thinning hair. October trees shiver and rustle as he walks by them, shuffling along, going nowhere…going somewhere. Crows rustle the tree tops.

The evening air is filled with dampness and sorrow. Danny’s heart is beating up the inside of his chest but he’s not afraid. He might be standing between heaven and hell but doesn’t feel afraid. He wants to trust the old man, something in him wants to believe. Daniel stands in front of the old man, beckoning, in a whirlwind of darkness. Yes, he wants to believe the old man is an angel; a messenger, knowing something of his dad.

A voice of misery rises in a fog. The air is still. A flapping of wings drops the old man to his knees. The moon glides into a different dimension as crows fill the space. The old man’s arm is reaching, finger curling, cobwebbed eyes beckoning. His face is torment, mouth dry of words, hair flying in strands, and a heart not opened.

The sound is over them. It’s in the shadow. Danny is in the shadow. The old man steps in close, from moonlight that is lost. He reaches to Danny, frail, lost, hopeless, a man in a wilderness.

Danny stands before him, unafraid, fearless in his heart.

Is it you…is it you, dad?

The old man’s arms fall about Danny, fragile, splintered, spoiled flesh, eyes dull.

Yeeessssss, he cries…

Yeeesssssssss and tears bubble from sunken depths and boil on eyelashes, sparkling in the coming moonlight.

Danny holds him up, pulls his coat tighter around him, and finds the words.

I love you, dad. I never told you, I love you and miss you, words fragile as crystal on tear soaked lips.

I..uvvv oooh, son, the old man replies, words cracking death’s dryness, flesh healing.

Crows departing.

Words, high up, soft as champagne bubbles, time to come home, Frank, we need you. Gabriel needs you.

*

Boo! Danny yells.

Wonder Woman, Spiderman, and a very thin Hulk let out knife-like screams.

Who is it? Wonder Woman asks, hiding behind Spiderman

Me — Danny, Danny Clark.

Holy heck, you scared the life out of us! She says.

The thin Hulk says, wow! You’re the dead guy…you know….the one we see near the cemetery looking for his own grave. Those scrapes on your face, they look so real.

You’re too weird, Danny Clark! Wonder Woman says.

C’mon, says Danny, we’ll be late for trick or treat, you got plenty of bags?

*

When Danny arrives home, having shed his costume, the coat and stick left at the cemetery.

Mom is sitting by the fire. She’s wearing her husband’s old black coat, the stick leaning against the chair, and her eyes heavy laden.

It’s okay, mom. Danny gives her a hug. I know dad loves us so much. He’s in our hearts. He’s home, mom.