A new child slave mysteriously appeared in town one day, calling himself Little Black Bimbo and acting like nobility, though everyone knew that a slave could never be nobility.

The Overseer of Slaves tossed the child into a horse trough filled with water. When the child stood, he was white as white could be.

"I'm really Prince Zimbo," he said. "I covered myself with black paint to fool all of you--and I did! Now my father the King will punish you all for mistreating me."

Moral: Never judge a person by the color they paint their skin.

It's said that we are all destined to do and/or be something meaningful in life, if not even great.

We all fit in somewhere, and have our unique groove. We just must seek it out . . . or let Fate gently nudge us across the spinning disk of Life until we discover--by intent or inadvertently--that groove which is own and tumble into it.

I'm sure I'll know when I discover my groove.

That hasn't happened. Yet.

The Youth Party was in full swing. Kids swam in the lake and played baseball, tag and other games for several hours.

Freddy Thompson donned his apron, fired up the grill, and began cooking hot dogs and hamburgers.

Little Annie Lifferts held out her plate for more.

"Mr. Thompson, you sure make great burgers. Where do you get your meat?"

Freddy smiled as he thought of the old barn back of the house, and of the dozens and dozens of carcasses--some animal and some not--hanging in the large concealed refrigeration room.

"Annie, you really don't want to know!"

“So, what’s your Halloween costume this year?” Sue asked.

Tom shrugged. “Not sure yet. You?”

She smiled. “Why, a wicked witch as usual. Like you had to ask.”

The two university students chuckled. They were eager to see their friends’ choices of costumes, too.

Suddenly, a figure jumped out of the darkness from the street and headed right towards them. Sue and Tom screamed, as the intruder scurried away. They looked at each other, fear blazing in their eyes.

“Th--that’s the scariest costume yet!” Tom stuttered.

“I’ll say!” Sue agreed. “A professor giving hours of homework on Halloween night!”

For Halloween. It began as a single story (Part I) but Bobby's comment below prompted a sequel.

Part I: The Door

They'd lived there for three years but never once opened the third bedroom's cupboard door. When they'd bought the house, they'd been told that a dark secret lay behind it.

The door was locked – the key long-lost – and painted over many times. Henry was convinced the door was a trompe d'oeil. There simply wasn't space for a cupboard, there was simply nothing there.

Jennifer wasn't so sure. One evening, determined to discover the truth, she instructed Henry to open the door with a crowbar. Fully ten minutes later, it finally gave way.

What they saw made their blood run cold.




Part II: Behind The Door

Before them was a small human skeleton, suspended in mid-air.

Henry and Jennifer stood transfixed as the skeleton transformed into a brilliant vision of a young girl in ragged Victorian clothing.

"I knew you'd come eventually," she said. Her lips formed the words but the sound came from behind the couple, causing them to spin round. The girl's laughter filled the room with laughter before her wide smile became a piercing scream that consumed them completely.

Suddenly, all went black. Henry and Jennifer realised that they themselves were now in the cupboard. They heard the key turn in the lock.

The postman drove up to the box. He leaned out the truck window and pulled down the box lid.

A huge black spider lunged forward. The postman screamed and pulled back into his truck, banging his elbow on the window.

He carefully peered at the leering spider with its huge eyes and glittering legs.

Glittering legs???

Another look revealed – a Halloween decoration!

Muttering to himself, the postman slowly reached into the box, removing the outgoing mail, a bag of gummy body parts candy and a Halloween card.

The card read: Dear Postman,
Tee-hee
Ann-Louise
PS. You can keep the spider 


Ann-Louise then went on to add two further comments of her own.

TRUE STORY?

I go on trial month for attempted assault on an employee of the US Postal Service (NOT TRUE).
My postman thought the joke was funny when his heart started beating again (TRUE). 

‘Well, Jack, look at you!’

‘I’m a vampire!’

‘And what are you meant to be, Ellie?’

‘A zombie!’ she lisped.

‘Well, you both look very scary!’

The children stowed their goodies in their plastic pumpkins and ran out Annabel’s gate.

She looked along the street. There probably wouldn’t be too many more visitors now.

She sat in the half-light of the kitchen for a few minutes and thought about their huge grins beneath the painted grimaces, the enthusiastic streaks of fake blood.

‘I remember how you loved the dressing up,’ she said to the quiet house.

She felt Glen answer.

Finishing his shift at the blood bank with a quick snack from the cabinet, Alexy changed clothes and began walking home.

The Halloween streets were full of people in costumes – witches, zombies, superheroes, ghosts wrapped in sheets. Some were a few sheets to the wind, and it was one of those groups which noticed Alexy.

“What is that guy ‘sposed to be?”

“It’s some kind of old-fashioned garb.”
(A&R Designs leaned heavily on dandies of past centuries.)

“But why the phony teeth?”

“An old-fashioned vampire?”

“Naw, too far-fetched. And not very convincing.”

Alexy still missed Ruth, her gentle ways and her temptingly lovely neck. But she had moved to another phase of afterlife, leaving him with poignant memories and the flourishing fashion business they had begun.
So he really didn’t need money. Still, he continued his counseling job, helping the newly departed adjust to their new non-lifestyle. And three nights a week, he worked as a custodian at the blood bank.
It didn’t pay well, but it had benefits. He swept the floors, emptied the trash, and cleaned out supplies which were nearing their expiration date -- sometimes stale but still tasty.