Let the Halloween Stories Begin

It’s not too early is it?

Obadiah and Jebediah Nelson were brothers aged twelve and thirteen. Their favorite holiday of the year was Halloween. They did not care much about the candy, though. It was the fiendish pranks that got them excited. Their favorite target for these pranks was old man Jennings.

Though his real age was just seventy-four, all the neighborhood kids said that he was over one hundred. He walked with a cane, a bent back and an ever-present scowl on his face. It was common knowledge among the neighborhood kids that Mr. Jennings hated children.

Old man Jennings refused to open his door and give candy to trick-or-treaters even though his lights were on and everyone knew that he was home. Taped on his front door was a sign that said, GO AWAY!

On the previous Halloween Obie and Jeb had egged old man Jennings’ house and toilet-papered his trees and bushes. They planned on doing the same this year but that wasn’t enough. They also wanted to carry out an even grander prank.

All through October the two boys brainstormed to come up with the ultimate prank to play on the old geezer and finally a couple of days before Halloween they came up with a plan — a plan that involved their ten-year-old sister Sarah.

Obie and Jeb knew that Mr. Jennings never opened his front door and came out on Halloween. But what about his back door? Trick-or-treaters never knocked on anyone’s back door.

So on the evening of Halloween Obie, Jeb and Sarah snuck into Mr. Jennings’ back yard. Sarah was wearing a white dress that was tattered and torn and covered with fake blood as was her arms and face. She went to the middle of the yard and got down on her knees. Obie and Jeb, both in werewolf costumes covered in fake blood hid in the bushes.

Sarah then began screaming at the top of her lungs. In between the screams she yelled, “Help! Help!”

Soon the back porch light came on illuminating Sarah. The back door opened and out came old man Jennings. He came down the steps and proceeded towards Sarah to help her. That is when Obie and Jeb stepped out from behind the bushes and growled as they began walking towards old man Jennings.

Mr. Jennings’ cane fell to the ground as he clutched his chest with both hands. He then fell to the ground.

Sarah quickly stopped her screaming and the boys their growling as they approached the old man. He was on his side with his mouth open and his dentures protruding from it. He was motionless.

“Oh my God,” said Obie. “I think we gave him a heart attack.”

Sarah began to cry, “I think we killed him.”

“Quick, we’ve gotta get outta here,” said Jeb. They quickly left the yard and went home.

The next day on the way to school Jeb went down the alleyway to look into the old man’s backyard. The body was gone. Joining Obie to walk past the front of the house they saw yellow police ‘Do Not Cross’ tape across old man Jennings’ front porch and front door.

They were convinced that they had killed the old man. That evening they talked with Sarah and they all pinky-swore not to ever tell anyone about it. From then on they lived in great fear that someone would find out what they did and they were eaten up with guilt. None of them ever celebrated Halloween again.

One day the next summer the three children were walking down the street on their way to the park. Ahead of them, old man Jennings stepped out from behind a hedge and began walking towards them, his finger pointing at them.

“You children killed me and now I’m gonna get you!”

The three children all screamed, turned around and ran away as fast as they could, convinced they had just seen the old man’s ghost.

Mr. Jennings laughed. “Stupid children,” he said under his breath. He laughed harder and harder until suddenly his cane fell to the sidewalk. His arm went numb and with his other arm he clutched his chest. Pain shot throughout his body. He fell to the sidewalk. A half hour later the paramedics pronounced him dead at the scene after a passerby called an ambulance.

He never celebrated Halloween again either.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction.

Speaking of old geezers…