At the end of a cult-de-sac with a broken streetlight in a dangerous part of town, a pink balloon lies deflated in the weeds beneath the broken mailbox of number 4 (unlucky in Chinese). The dark, meandering drive, lined with thorny bushes, ends abruptly at a wooden house with a spooky tower. Unsurprisingly, very few children ever venture there for trick-or-treat.
Nevertheless, as was his custom at Halloween, Mr Wayne Gory dressed in his best suit, arranged a bowl of lollies and a bottle of red cordial beside the door, and practiced his smile in the cracked mirror.
At 9 o’clock the phone rang. “I am going to kill you,” said the caller.
Wayne replaced the hand-piece, lifted it again and dialled triple-0.
“Hello police. I’d like to report a nuisance call.”
“Too bad,” said the voice. “I’m still on the line and I’m still going to kill you.”
“Where are you calling from?”
“Let’s just say: you look smart tonight.”
“Are you watching me from the coat cupboard?”
“If you listen carefully you’ll hear me sharpening my knife.”
He listened. But all he heard was muffled knocking from the velvet-covered window seat.
“Hold the line a moment.” He put the phone down, walked to the bay window and opened the lid. A pale and sinister figure arose from the padded interior and turned a pair of glowing, kohl-rimmed eyes on Wayne. Long, sharp canine teeth glistened in his mouth, and a forked tongue flickered in and out as though tasting the air.
“It’s no use licking your lips at me,” said Wayne. “I have chronically low blood pressure.”
“I vill avait ze children,” said the vampire. “In ze mean time, may I check your frrridge for blüt products?”
“Help yourself.”
When fridge door opened, the blast of cold air caused icicles to form on the chandelier.
“I’m so cold!” a voice whimpered.
A headless spectre drifted up from the kitchen drain and hovered over the armchair.
“Hello. What’s your name?” Wayne asked.
“I’m Little Willy and I’m so lonely. Have you seen my mummy?”
“Vot happened to your head?” asked the vampire.
The ghost pondered a moment. “I’ve lost it. The last thing I remember was ringing the doorbell for trick or treat.”
“Vich vun did you get?”
“Let’s just say I’m still waiting for my treat,” whined the ghost.
“Ask Count Dracula to give you an icy pole from the fridge,” said Wayne. He sat back down and picked up the phone, “Are you still sharpening your knife, my love?”
“I dropped the whetstone and it’s too dark in here to find it.”
Wayne patted his pockets. “I have a lighter somewhere…”
“What’s the use of that? I’m locked in a dark cupboard surrounded by highly flammable coats.”
“There should be a rechargeable torch in the fuse box.”
“Where do you mean?… Oh, I think I can feel it… Ouch!”
All the lights went out.
“Stay where you are. I’ll come and change the fuse,” said Wayne, but he couldn’t stand up because something cold and scaly was sitting in his lap.
“Wayne baby,” purred a seductive female voice in his ear. “Prepare to surrender your body to me.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I am your succubus. I haunt your dreams and steal your precious bodily fluids.”
Right on cue, the clouds parted and a ray of moonlight illuminated a grotesque creature, part woman, part lizard, part Medusa with a head of wriggling, hissing snakes.
“If you wouldn’t mind not squirming in my lap,” said Wayne. “I have a prostate problem and … well, being a woman you wouldn’t understand.”
“He’ll need to pee,” said the telephone voice, helpfully. “I keep telling him to ask the doctor about it.”
“I’m still hungry,” complained the headless ghost.
“You’re out of bleck puddink,” complained the vampire.
The clock struck ten. There was a knock on the door.
“Don’t answer it!” warned the voice in the phone. But Wayne managed to push the succubus off his lap, adjusted his smile and opened the front door, revealing…
A slobbering, wild-eyed maniac dragging a bloody axe.
“Very sorry to disturb you,” the maniac said politely. “My car appears to have broken down. Could I possibly use your phone?”
“Don’t let him in!” Shouted the vampire, the ghost and the succubus in unison.
“He can’t use the phone, I’m still on the line,” said the voice in the hand-piece.
“Why not come inside and wait?” invited Wayne, holding the door open.
Just then the lights came back on.
Wayne checked his watch. “I guess it is too late for children to be out, so we may as well make the most of the night ourselves.”
He offered red cordial and a straw to the vampire (“use your imagination”), a gummy bear to the ghost (“look, you can pull his little head off”), a striped bullseye to the axe man (“eyeballs anyone?”), and jelly snakes to the lizard woman (“keep them under your hat”). He pushed a stick of chewing gum under the cupboard door.
“Hey, this gum is past its use-by date! Are you trying to poison us?”
Wayne sighed and poured himself a whisky, stuffed his pipe with tobacco and flicked his lighter.
The vampire stopped sucking on the straw and looked up in horror. “Vayne, vot ze hell are you doingk?”
“He’s going to smoke!” howled the ghost.
“Airborne carcinogens!” hissed the succubus
“I’m out of here!” mumbled the axe man. “I don’t plan to die from passive smoking!”
He ran out the front door and down the drive. The vampire climbed back into the window seat and slammed the lid. The ghost disappeared screaming into the cesspit. The lizard woman climbed into the fridge and pulled the door closed behind her. Wayne sighed again, sat back and puffed contentedly.
“What’s going on?” asked the voice on the phone, followed by the sound of slapping and coughing. Smoke curled from under the cupboard door. “Oh hell, the lithium battery has caught fire…”
©Ian Hart 2026
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