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Hallow's Eve Risk Benefit, by Eric Smith

31/10/2015

 
The kid’s head lolled as he began to snore. 
“Hey! Do you know why I picked you up?” 
The kid jerked awake. “Huh?” 
“Guess, punk.” 
“I’m no punk.” 
“I picked you up because it’s really late, and I didn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel. I thought we could talk.” 
“Fat chance.” 
The driver pulled over on the dirty thruway that straddled the worst part of town. 
“Out!” 
“Come on, man. At least get me out of here. They’ll kill me.” 

The driver drew a nine-millimeter Beretta. “Trick or treat, kid, what do think I’ll do to you?”

Just Another Saturday Night, by Gordon Lawrie

31/10/2015

 
Jean, Ethel and Florence, as usual on Saturday nights, were counting their winnings: it was the 743rd successive Saturday that they’d won the National Lottery and their combined wealth outstripped nine entire countries.

The Fraud Squad suspected, of course, but the witches’ constant switching of magic potions and spells had them bamboozled. But Ethel was worried that they were being dangerously greedy.

“Don’t be silly,” chimed the others.

Suddenly, seventeen armed policemen burst through their front door into their living room.

“OK, you two,” Ethel sighed, “I get your point.” She waved her hand, turning the policemen into slimy toads.

The Halloween Beast, by Bobby Warner

31/10/2015

 
Ginny's father found the beast in the forest on Halloween. He wounded it and carried it home. He chained the beast to a cellar wall, and called her to see it.

"Ugly thing, ain't it?" he said, picking up his horse whip; a monstrous thing he sometimes used on Ginny. "I'm gonna teach it some manners!" He swung the whip, breaking the beast's skin.

Ginny acted without thinking, picking up a pitchfork and plunging it into her father's back. Then she unchained the beast and set it free.

"Happy Halloween," she said, as the beast quickly faded into the night.

Marathon Trick-Or-Treating, by Russell Conover

31/10/2015

 
Jimmy, eight years old, had picked out the perfect Halloween costume since he’d decided to be a drooling, scowling werewolf that would prowl the neighborhoods in search of the most candy possible, from both the longtime neighbors and the newcomers who didn’t yet know the routines of the area, so Jimmy put on some extra face paint and made sure his fangs were extra sharp in the hopes of scaring the house owners into giving him more candy, and it must have worked since he came home with the biggest candy haul ever, which he enjoyed immensely for several days.

No Date – Again, by Jo Oldani-Osborne

30/10/2015

 
Main Street Blood Bank had a sign in the window: “Closed early for Halloween Ball.”

Sherry tried the door, It opened!

Alexy the phlebotomist turned with a grimace in surprise. “AHHHhhhmmm- Can I help you?”

Sherry, a beauty in white looked coyly at Alexy. “Great costume, dude. You kinda scared me there. You’re a Collins look-alike as a phlebotomist!”

“Pride and Prejudice Mr. Collins?”

“Eww, Dude, Barnabas Collins – Dark Shadows.”

Sherry sidled up, ‘Sexy broody not Creepy Vicar.’”

Alexy smiled. It hurt. “Can I help you – uh Miss”

“Sherry, my friends call me Sweet Sherry.”

Impulse, by Jane Reid

30/10/2015

 
Hepzibazh, Jezabel and Isismene circled the cauldron.

“How long must we stay with this silly, outdated script?” grumbled Hep. “It is centuries out of date. No one reads Billy’s stuff any more, except in classrooms.”

“True enough,” Issy agreed. “These days it’s all zombies and vampires and computer game stuff. Today’s kids just laugh at witches.”

“Hellfire!” said Jess, and the others bent their heads reverently. “We can improvise better than that. We can set the town all widdershins.”

They considered. Time was short; the witching hour fades quickly.

“Let’s go,” Hep cried.

They grabbed their brooms. 

The Parliamentary Visitor, by Gordon Lawrie

30/10/2015

 
Picture
The House of Commons doorbell rang. Security guard Black Rod hated Halloween.

A well-known local lad waited expectantly. “Trick or treat!”

Black Rod smiled condescendingly. “Guido, that’s a silly American thing.”

“OK,” said Guido, “Penny for the Guy? Go on.”

“No. Current Conservative Government policy is to cut back on welfare payments to boys like you who should be hard at work up chimneys. Anyway, you’d just spend it on sweets or comics. What ARE you going to spend it on? Tell me.”

“No.”

“Fine,” said Black Rod, slamming the door.


Two minutes later the House of Commons blew up.

Auld Acquaintance, by Jane Reid

30/10/2015

 
Molly headed down the street, past the cafeteria where she usually stopped. Its food had gone badly downhill, and a creepy guy there who tried to hit on her was the last straw. So she and Candy agreed to meet at the tearoom in the next block, where the decor was pink and frilly, but the food was OK.

Candy (more a business associate than a friend) was usually late, so Molly was surprised to see she was already there. She sat in a booth across the room, talking to someone.

Then Molly recognized him: that man from the cafeteria.

Let the Right One In, by Emma Baird

30/10/2015

 
“I’m dreading this evening so I am.”

Matthew had been the more gregarious of the two. It was the ultimate compliment to his hosting skills that so many people often dropped by, unannounced.

When he died ten years ago, she shut her front door and gradually those unannounced visitors stopped coming.

Hallowe’en, however, every year brought the neighbourhood’s children, craving comments on cute costumes and greedily demanding sweets.

The doorbell sounded at 6pm. She sighed and heaved herself up.

“Jenny – you’ve been hiding away too long. It isn’t good for a person.”

She stuck out a tentative hand.

​Oh Matthew… 

The Dinner Guest, by Ann-Louise Truschel

30/10/2015

 
“Welcome, my dear. Would you like a cocktail before dinner?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you, George. What smells so delicious?”

“It’s a special sauce I make. My own recipe.”

“I had no idea you were such a good cook – or should I say ‘Chef’?”

“I enjoy it. Cooking relaxes me after a long night at work. I love to try new recipes.”

“What are we having tonight.”

“I’d like it to be a surprise.”

I’m pretty picky about my food. Nothing exotic, I hope. Give me a hint?”

“Brains, my dear.”

“Ugh. What kind?”

“Yours.” 

By Amy Friedman

29/10/2015

 
“Aaaaand …” said Carly, setting the bag on the counter, “Real New York Bagels!” 
“For real?” said Brenda, cocking an eyebrow. 
“Yep – fresh from a shop near my mom,” Carly said. 
Brenda picked up a bagel, squeezed, sniffed, and squinted. 
“I bet this was made in some factory in Jersey,” she sniped. 
“Oh come on Brenda! Who appointed you judge? Just eat,” Kit chimed. 
“I don’t like Carly trying to put one over, like she did with salt water taffy her last trip,” Brenda said. 
“Brenda, you don’t even bother bringing stuff in,” Carly said. “Put up or shut up.” 

Wait A Minute, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

29/10/2015

 
No cure for the Undead? Aren't you being old-fashioned? Didn't you hear that the new information was released? It's only a matter of time before it filters through to the masses. After all, it's not like they have to ingest something new, it's just about refreshing their DNA, reminding them they aren't Homo sapiens, only hypothetically advanced Cave men, identified as the original Undead. Geez, as soon as they wake up they're going to know the difference and feel so much better. No more of this epidemic self harming, no more illogical passion to end the species. I can't wait.

Ghost-Hunters' Two Hour Special: Angel-Hall University of Michigan, by Jo Oldani- Osborne

29/10/2015

 
“OH MY GOD! Did he just use a double negative again?” They watched from a distance.

“’There isn’t no reason not to believe in ghosts.’” Technically that’s a triple negative. Indeed, and he’s ‘a expert.’”

“-‘Exasperate the situation.’ Ugh!”

“Should we let him know?”

“ Which? ‘Exacerbate’ or subject/verb agreement? He’s reinforcing bad habits. ‘I seen it!’”

“ ‘Scientific proof of ghosts’ – and he doesn’t even qualify it. Tell him.”

“YOU tell him.” They watched the Ghost Hunter adjust his EMF and recorder looking for “ EVP’s.”

“Halloween Specials! How tiresome.”

“Cretin. Let’s go haunt his editor.”

Bad News At The Doctor's, by Gordon Lawrie

29/10/2015

 
The doctor sat down facing the patient directly; he wore a serious expression and the patient knew something was wrong.

“Let me have it straight, doc. What’s the problem?”

The doctor shook his head. “You seem to have caught diabetes 2. Your blood tests show that your chromosomes have altered irrevocably, I’m afraid.”

“Diabetes 2? But how?”

“It can come from a virus, or an insect bite. Or too much internet shopping.”

The patient sighed. “The perils of modern life, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” said the doctor.

“Is there any hope?”

“No, your chromosomes indicate that you’ve already become a zombie.”

The King's New Clothes, by Bobby Warner

29/10/2015

 
King Bloodguard was displeased with his Imperial clothes. Stiff, scratchy woolen suit underneath a bulky, uncomfortable heavy sable robe. He could recall a time when, as a young prince, he was allowed to go about with no clothes at all--and everyone pretended that his "garments" were the finest in the realm.

So one fine morning the king stepped out onto his balcony wearing not one stitch of clothing. Even though the men thought him a disgusting sight, they bowed down. But the women thought his garments heavenly and murmured, "His robe is so beautiful--and so very, very long!"

Hard Of Hearing, by Roy Gomez

28/10/2015

 
I can’t hear to my right. That’s because of my ear. It’s bad. Every lousy thing that’s ever happened to me has seeped right through it. Now it’s all black –black and damned. Being partly deaf is okay, though, it’s the slow rotting that I hate. Years ago, when I still believed in people, I used to turn that same ear toward them – kind, sympathetic, I allowed that we all make mistakes. But eventually it all came to nothing. That withering right ear just knows. I’m cursed. But that’s all right too. By every word I hear, so is everybody else.

The Straw Man, by Bobby Warner

28/10/2015

 
​Little Buff was not quiet right in the head. He loved his grandpa, who always helped him when he was asked. Buff could depend on his Gramps.

Then Gramps passed on. On Halloween, Buff's dad said, "Son, we need a straw man to put in the front yard. Get some of Gramp's old clothes, stuff 'em, and put 'em on a pole."

When he went with his dad outdoors to look at the straw man, Buff didn't expect his father to become angry.

"Buff, you've put your grandpa up there!"

"Yes, Pa. Gramps always told me I could count on him!"

Candy and Randy, by Len Nourse

27/10/2015

 
Randy on introducing Candy to members of the scientific group at CALTEC noticed her glad-eye connection with his colleague, James Dean. She had no hesitation in accepting James’ invitation to dinner that night, or later for his invitation to stay with him that night. Randy, though, was weary of this invitation so that evening he linked his thoughts to Candy’s mind using his most recent research findings in his thought research. He stayed awake continually receiving Candy’s. After the lovemaking her murderous intentions hit his mind. He raced to James’ apartment but got there too late, James was no more.

The Black Cat, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

27/10/2015

 
Four attempts at self-hanging. Got a friend to stick him in the thigh with a knife so he'd bleed out but the guy missed his artery. Had his girlfriend to do a random bleed on his car brakes but the car was squeezed so tight between two others he couldn't even get it on the road. 
This year he still had three days to make things right so he went to confession. 
"What's it gonna be this year?" the priest grumbled. 
"Buried alive?" 
"Sealed casket?" 
"Might just work." 
“Pray for me.” 
“Miracles can happen.” 
BLACK PANTHER ESCAPES ZOO, KILLS LOCAL!!

C'est La Vie, by Jo Oldani-Osborne

27/10/2015

 
“So my travel plans have changed.”

“Yeah?”

“I have to add another stop on the way back from Paris.”

“Yeah?”

“So, I’ll have a layover in London just long enough to look at a venue.”

“Um -Okay,”

“Then I fly to New York for a site survey, then, continue to Las Vegas where, get this, I have a site survey at The Paris Hotel.”

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Anywhere in this conversation are you going to say ‘I’ve booked you, My Dearest, to join me?’”

“No.”

“Then explain the irony to the dog. I’m just going to sit over here and pout.” 

The Halloween Returning, by Bobby Warner

27/10/2015

 
He was homesick as he approached town. It was Halloween, and he was home again, for a while.

The wind blew leaves like brittle insects across driveways; dark clouds scuttled across the face of the moon. Last year, here, something dark and terrible had taken him away; now he was allowed to return.

Children made the Trick-or-Treat rounds; the town became quiet, and he returned to his new home. He stood before the gravestone with his name; he turned to smoke and sank into his grave with a long sigh, hoping he would be allowed to return home again next Halloween.

The Warning, by Joy Essien

27/10/2015

 
The air had a chill to it. Panting, Russell ran downhill; behind, Jimmy, his fearful friend stumbled.

Recalling the scene, Russell saw his friends throwing eggs at the old house, and the old lady warning them.

“Where were the others? How did things go so wrong?” Russell wondered. 
Jimmy scrambled to his feet. “Wait for me,” he called out. Jimmy stumbled again. 
Ahead, a grotesque, Pumpkin-headed, and caped creature stood impassively, its hand outstretched. It appeared tall and female.

Jimmy found himself being raised into the air. He resisted and failed. Looking into the creature’s darkened eyes, Jimmy howled painfully. 

The Unringing, by Gordon Lawrie

27/10/2015

 
PictureBicalatu church bell: source Wikicommons
As Halloween’s end approached, the tiny village of St Egbert’s collectively shivered. Nobody knew who rang the church bell – everyone was past caring anyway, trusting in prayer instead.

Each year at midnight, the bell struck twelve then continued, fifteen, perhaps sixteen strikes, each extra stroke representing a soul taken. Those hearing the bells ring were safe for another year, otherwise...

This year was a bad one. Neither Mrs Clancy nor Jim Pearce heard bells. Bess Merryweather’s cancer finally claimed her, too. But losing the two Dempsey boys, speeding on the back road in their parents’ car, that was too much.

Candy Makes A Move, by Eric J Smith

25/10/2015

 
Tom sat in the back seat by his backpack. He’d hitched an hour before two ladies in a BMW stopped to give him a lift. Honey, the loquacious redhead, drove; her sister, a laconic woman wearing jeans and a t-shirt, had sinewy forearms. She cleaned her nails with a buck knife and then put it away. Tom could tell the quiet sister disliked him—he had a sixth sense. He wanted to see Honey again, though, even if she was older. He studied the big, faded freckles covering the backs of her hands. Then he heard the knife click open. 

The High Roller, by Gordon Lawrie

23/10/2015

 
In Monte Carlo’s Grand Casino, Candy sat at the roulette table. As disguise, she’d cut her hair, worn black tie, and styled herself ‘Le High Roller’. But she was on a mission.
 
Croupier Jacques LeNoir was spinning the roulette wheel. For Candy, it was love at first sight as he gazed across the table towards her. Had he guessed?
 
With heavy heart, she acted. As the ball dropped into black 31, poison darts flew silently from her toe-caps into each of Jacques LeNoir’s shins; he was dead in seconds.
 
“Rien ne va plus, my love,” she whispered, brushing away a tear.
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