“The traditions, values and rules of Halloween, the day of Samhein, are sacred, not be broken. Never, to be broken. To break them, incites the wrath of those who are not meant in the living world, those who will deliver a punishment fit for disobeying, forgetting, breaking the rules.” So remember. On Halloween, respect the dead.
Never blow out the candle in your Jack-o’-lantern till the midnight hour.
And always leave a piece of candy on the windowsill for Mr. Twisp.
*
Placing another log on the dying fire, the wood crackled as Samuel poked it, Samantha and Tommy watching and waiting in anticipation. Tommy, having finished all the chocolate in his pumpkin bucket, didn’t want any more candy, his stomach already beginning to ache. Climbing out from under his ghost costume, throwing the sheet behind him, he wanted Grandpa Sammy to tell them the story of “Mr. Twix”, as Tommy had heard it said.
“Mr. Twix grandpa?” Tommy asked, Samuel unable to sustain a smile. Still poking the fire, the old man, looked at his grandson, then to his granddaughter. He wished his oldest granddaughter Carrie-Anne could be there, the girl having loved his stories, but Samuel knew she had a very important night ahead of her.
“No, Mr. Twisp,” Samantha corrected her brother. The girl had a habit of doing so. “And that’s not a scary name grandpa,” the girl said, having barely touched her candy, finally reaching in and grabbing a piece of chocolate.
“It’s not?” Samuel asked, acting shocked. “When I hear that name I get scared. Especially if I know that Mr. Twisp is around. Oh boy do I get scared.” Trying to hide his smile, it was no good, Tommy and Samantha smiling as well, both knowing that nothing scared their Grandpa Sammy.
“Yeah right Grandpa! If that Mr. Twix ever messed with you you’d send him packing all the way back to his mommy!” Jumping up, Tommy punched the air, pretending to be his Grandpa beating up an ol, mean, “Mr. Twix”, as the boy continued to pronounce wrong.
“Glad you think so,” Samuel said laughing. “But, first, I wouldn’t be able to send Mr. TWISP to his mommy cause he never had one. And two, I wouldn’t stick around long enough to even wave a fist at him. I would high tail it out of there, let me tell you.”
“He never had a mommy?” Samantha asked, the question making her think what it would be like if she didn’t have a mommy. She had already lost her daddy, but that was when she was little, littler than Tommy. Losing her mother as well would shatter the girl’s world, but she didn’t want to think about that.
“Never ever,” Grandpa Sammy said, shaking his head for emphasis. “No one really knows where Mr. Twisp came from. But he is a bad, bad man, no. Monster. That man is more of a monster.”
“What’s so bad about him?” Tommy asked, still throwing fists as his imaginary opponent.
“Well, he’d snatch you up if he’d thought you’d make a nice treat. See, Mr. Twisp loves the taste of children, because of their fear. And to him, nothing is more delicious than fear. Children’s fear.”
“I ain’t scared of him,” Tommy said, flexing his muscles just in case Mr. Twisp was watching from the shadows.
“I ain’t either,” Samantha spouted out, not letting Tommy be the only brave one.
“Good, good,” Samuel said. “But even if you ain’t scared, that Mr. Twisp has ways to just make the fear boil right up inside you. That he does. His black eyes, like orbs from outer space, will grip your reflection, like polished mirrors, but if you look close enough, just close enough, your reflection won’t be right. It will be off, showing you scared, quivering, frightened.
And his flesh, his skin, is like a melted candle, just molded to look like a man, with a face that isn’t a face. No mouth, or nostrils. No ears.”
“No mouth? Then how’s he gonna eat up the kids he takes?” Tommy asked. He returned to sitting down, tired of beating up the imaginary Mr. Twix.
“Oh, he has ways. But if you ever cross him, you’ll know who he is by the suit he wears. Blacker than a moonless night, where even the stars above are hidden. With a black hat to match his suit. And his nails, sharper than any razor, just as black as his blackened suit.”
Pulling out a leather bound book, no bigger than your average journal, Samuel untied the leather strap that held it shut, licked his thumb, then flipped through the pages till he found just what he was looking for. Turning the book towards his grandchildren, the picture before them showcased perfectly who Grandpa Sammy had just described. And Samantha, looking to the drawn orbs that were the eyes, could swear that they were reflecting the light from the crackling fire, but that was impossible she thought, the picture being hand drawn.
“Did you draw that Grandpa?” Samantha asked, hypnotized by the eyes, unable to look away from them till Samuel turned the pages back towards him, taking his own turn at looking at the drawn Mr. Twisp, his eyes narrowing, the man taking a deep sigh.
“I did, when I just a child, just about your age Samantha,” closing the book quickly, the snap of the pages made the two children jump, which in turn made Samuel smile. “I saw Mr. Twisp with my own eyes, on Halloween have you. And you know what saved me?”
“What?” Tommy was the first to ask. “What saved you? Why didn’t he eat you? Was it ‘cause you weren’t scared?”
“No, I was scared alright. It was because I remembered the rules of Halloween, the sacred rules which must never be broken. The same one’s I’ve told to you since you could listen to me. The same rules my grandfather told to me, and that his grandfather told to him. What are they now? Samantha.” The man knew his grandchildren knew them by heart, but it was always nice to have them recite those sacred rules. Have them remember to adhere to them.
“Always respect the dead,” the girl said.
“Or else…” Samuel added.
“Or else they dead will get angry, and then they could hurt those who disrespected them.” The girl finished her sentence, and proud of herself, nodded and smiled, crossing her arms, knowing she was correct.
“That’s correct. And Tommy, rule number two.”
“Never, ever, blow out the candle in the Jack o’ Lantern till midnight.” Sticking his tongue out at his sister, he hated how she was so smart and right all the time. He was smart too, just not as smart.
“Or else…” Samuel asked Tommy this time.
“Or else the Others will get lost going back to the Othersides, and that’s a sad, sad time for them. Cause then they will cry forever, and no one will be able to hear them.” Samuel leaning back in his rocking chair, closing the book, rocked for a moment before posing his last question.
“And rule number three…” he asked, looking from grandchild to grandchild to see which answered first, and it was Tommy in his excitement to beat Samantha.
“Always leave a piece of candy on the windowsill.” Sticking his tongue out again at his sister, too proud for beating her in answering the question, she did her best to ignore him and see what else Grandpa Sammy had to say.
“Always leave a piece of candy on the windowsill,” Samuel repeated out loud, acknowledging the truth. “For Mr. Twisp, so he’ll spare you, and not snatch you up, and take you away to be a snack!” And upon finishing his sentence, Samuel leaped from his chair, arms high, scaring the children for his own amusement. Samantha, screaming, fell backwards, kicking over her bucket of candies. Tommy, wide eyed, found the sheet that had been his ghost costume, climbing underneath it for safety. In short time, both children were laughing, right along with their grandfather whose hearty laugh outdid theirs.
“GRANDPA!” the children said in unison. Tommy, lying on the floor, peaked his head out, the sheet now his blanket, Samantha sitting up, picking up her candy and putting it back into her bucket. “Did you really see Mr. Twisp?” she asked, not sure to believe her grandfather or not, a sign that the girl was growing up. But even so, part of her believed, and wanted to hear more.
“Would I lie to you?” Samuel asked, a smile still on is wrinkled face, even as he settled back down again, returning to a steady rocking.
“Nope,” Tommy answered, Samantha just shaking her head.
“I saw him alright. And I’ll never forget that night…”
*
He should have been asleep. Sammy knew it, in his heart that he should have been asleep, had been told to go to sleep, but for some unknown reason, maybe fate, he stayed awake, merely shutting his eyes, pretending like he wasn’t awake.
Halloween was coming to its close, having passed by beautifully, just like every other Halloween. Sammy, having gotten his full of goodies, scares and stories from his own Grandfather Samuel, had been told to go to sleep before watching the candle in the family Jack O’ Lantern get blown out, something which he thought he was finally old enough to stay up and be a part of. Lying in bed, the minutes just dragged by as Sammy just knew that at any moment the candle on their porch was going to get blown out, signifying the end to Halloween for the family for that year. But Sammy knew it meant more than just that.
His grandfather had told him stories, made his remember the rules of All Hallows Day. Sammy remembered them. And the candle, which was never, ever, ever to be blown out till the midnight hour, was for the Other’s, all the one’s from the Othersides, all the monsters, ghosts, ghouls, oogy boogie’s; The candles lit their way home.
Fed up, tired of trying to even fool himself, Sammy sat up, preparing to try and sneak downstairs, maybe catch a peek of his father, mother, brother and grandfather blowing out the candle. How come Robert is old enough? Sammy thought, finally sitting up in his bed, the boy definitely not expecting to have company in his room.
Breath stolen from his very lungs, heart pounding in his ears, Sammy didn’t know the man that wasn’t standing in his room, if he could be called that, a man. Wide eyed, Sammy watched as the man, or black suited what-ever he was turned to return the gaze, only his black orbs that were eyes reflected the moonlight spilling in through Sammy’s window.
Never looking away from the child in the bed, the man monster reached down, and pinching the mint between its fingers, picked it up, and dropping it into his pocket, tilted its head to the side, setting a bag, a doctors bag on the windowsill where the candy had just been sitting. Unclasping the metal clasp holding the bag shut, opening the bag up, reaching inside, the monster pulled out something held in its clenched fist.
Walking towards the still silent boy, Sammy too frightened to even scream, the monster pushed up the brim of its black hat with a black nail, leaning in close to be within inches of the boy, holding out the clenched fist, waiting for Sammy to do something. Sammy, not moving his face, just his wide eyes, looked down at the fist, reached a quivering hand out, opened, waiting for whatever the monster was holding.
Opening its yellow finger’s, dropping into the palm something that Sammy couldn’t see, mainly because his frightened gaze had returned to the dark orbs, the monster pulled away, returning to its bag, closing it, and just grabbing the handle. Standing still, back turned to Sammy, the man rotated its head, and with the tilt of its head, the monster was gone, like a shadow turned into a wisp of smoke, carried off by a quick, strong wind blowing through the room, and though Sammy wouldn’t know it, the midnight hour had arrived, and Mr. Twisp was satisfied for the night.
Screaming, finally able to, Sammy wanted someone to come to his room, someone to hear what had just happened, someone to hear who had just been in the room. His parents, brother and grandfather, all running, thundering up the wooden stairs of the home, burst into the room, Sammy’s mother running to him, holding her screaming baby.
“What is it Samuel?” she asked, hugging her crying son, the older men just looking into the room, seeing nothing that could have scared the boy. “What is it?”
“There was a man mama! A monster! In a suit, and hat! He had black eyes, like a spider. And his skin, it was yellow, like a candle stick.” Crying heavily, Sammy had never been so scared in his life.
“Samuel, there was no one in here,” the boy’s father said, convinced it was probably a nightmare that had frightened the child, one brought on by his father-in-law’s stories. “Now, go back to sleep, you have lessons in the morning.” Stepping out, Robert followed his father, leaving the whimpering boy with his mother and grandfather.
“He was here mama, I swear it! He gave me this!” Finally opening the fist that had been clenching whatever the monster had dropped, on the boys palm rested a button, one that the mother didn’t recognize from any of the boys clothing.
“Where did you get that Samuel?” his mother asked him, obviously not believing his story on the origin of the button.
“Mr. Twisp,” Sammy’s grandfather answered, getting a look from his daughter.
“None of your stories father,” the man’s daughter said angrily, having long since grown tired of the childish scares that came from the stories. “Samuel is scared enough. I think you did your job, giving the poor child nightmares.”
“No mama,” Sammy was quick to object, “really. The man was standing right there,” Sammy pointed at the windowsill. “He took the candy that I had left there!”His mother, getting up, walked to the window, and looking, saw that the candy was in fact gone, but she believed it to have been taken by another culprit, her son.
“Go to bed Samuel,” the woman kissed her son on the forehead. “You ate too much candy and you shouldn’t take your grandfather’s stories to heart. They will just make you see things in the dark. Now, goodnight.” Kissing him again, she made her exit, but not without shooting her father a warning glance. Waiting for his daughter to walk down the stairs, Sammy’s grandfather walked over and sat on the bed, looking at Sammy’s outstretched hand, and the button he was holding.
“That right there I haven’t seen since I was your age,” Sammy’s grandfather said, taking the button from the child’s palm. “And it was the last time I ever saw my brother, your great uncle.” Examining the button, Sammy’s grandfather put it back into the boys palm, and the man’s eyes filled with serious sternness. “Be glad you remember the rules of All Hallows Day Samuel. They saved you. Mr. Twisp is not an Other to be trusted, but you did well, leaving a candy for the man on the windowsill.
“See, my poor brother didn’t believe in the rules, the sacred rules. No he didn’t, and what happened to him. Mr. Twisp came and took him on Halloween, and looks what’s left of him after all this time, nothing but a button. And how do I know that’s his button? Look closely.” Sammy, doing as he was told, looked at the button, using the moonlight through the window as his light. And on the button, were the initials, S.S.
“Those are my initials grandpa,” Sammy said, still looking at the button.
“And those were your Great Uncle Samson’s as well. Our mother had these buttons made for our church coats, and on that Halloween, on that Sunday, Samson had gone to sleep in his coat, and had forgotten to follow the rules. Samson was a rotten child, my poor brother rest his soul,” Sammy’s grandfather said, shame in his voice, shaking his head. “Having gone out for a night of tricks, smashing Jack O’ Lanterns, he found his way to a graveyard, and disrespecting the dead, he taunted those who were buried by dancing over their graves while whistling a tune. I knew better, watching him from the gates, telling him to come back and stop. I swear to this day I could feel the cold presence of Mr. Twisp with us that night. The next day, Samson was gone forever.”
Standing up, leaving it at that, Sammy’s grandfather stopped right in the doorway, hand on the knob of his grandson’s door. Sammy, sitting up still, heart rate gone down, clenched the button of his Great Uncle Samson.
“So, Mr. Twisp is real grandfather?” Sammy asked, just before his grandfather exited for the night.
“You saw him with your own two eyes. I’d have to say he is Samuel. Goodnight. Don’t let the vampires bite.”
*
“The next day,” Samuel said, rocking in the chair, Tommy having fallen asleep on the floor, Samantha still awake, but just barely, intently listened to the story, “I drew the picture I showed you the moment I woke up. And when I asked my mother about my Great Uncle Samson, she said that he just disappeared when my grandfather was young. She never did believe me about Mr. Twisp. But he had been there, that I promise you.”
“And what about the button that Mr. Twisp had given you Grandpa Sammy?” Samantha asked, following her question with a long yawn. Reaching into the pocket of his pants, Samuel pulled out the very button from the story, handing it to his granddaughter. Looking at it, Samantha read the two initials.
“I have carried it with me every day, and now, it’s yours.” Elisa, astonished that her grandfather would give her something like that, didn’t know what to say, so instead, she just yawned again. “And that child, is a sign that it’s time for bed.”
“But grandpa,” Samantha whined, making Tommy stir in his sleep. “I want to blow out the candle!” Whining, the girl was in fact tired, it already being past her bedtime, but still a few hours from midnight.
“That is still too long for you to stay up child, now, time to go to bed. Your mother will hang me from the ceiling if she found out I let you stay up this late.” Picking Tommy off the floor, Samuel led the way, a pouting Samantha following behind. Once up the stairs, the girl went straight for her room, Samuel taking Tommy to his. Setting the boy down on his bed, Samuel told the sleeping child goodnight, then made his way to his granddaughter’s room.
Crying under her blankets, still in her Wonder Woman costume, Samuel sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing just how Samantha was feeling. Sighing deeply, it got the girls attention, Samantha peeking a head out from under the cover.
“Next year, you will be old enough,” Samuel said, looking at her with a smile, but it was no use. Samantha wanted to blow out the candle in the Jack O’ Lantern. “Oh, what did we forget?” Samuel asked, remembering the rules of Halloween. The girl still crying, thought for a moment, then realizing what they had forgotten, jumped out of bed to stand on the floor next to her grandfather.
“We forgot to put candy on the windowsills,” Samantha said, forgetting about the candle for a moment. Samuel, telling her to hurry, smiled wide as his granddaughter rushed down the stairs to her bowl of candy, grabbing only one piece. For herself. Tommy fell asleep, she thought to herself, running back up the stairs. This will teach him.
Placing the candy on the windowsill, she climbed back into her bed, climbed under the covers, and waited for a goodnight from her grandfather, the sudden excitement from remembering the third rule having passed, leaving her more tired than before.
“And where is your brother’s piece?” Samuel asked, the smile gone from his face.
“I,” the girl thought for a second, making up a lie, but too tired to get too creative. “I forgot about his.” Shaking his head, Samuel didn’t have time to say anything before the girl was fast asleep. Tucking her in, he opened her palm and took the button from her sleeping grip, laying it on the stand next to her bed. Walking out of her room, flipping off the lights, he left the door cracked, allowing the hallway light to sneak into the room.
Walking downstairs, picking out two pieces of chocolate from his granddaughters bucket, he walked back upstairs, leaving one on the windowsill in Tommy’s room, and opening the other to eat. Leaving the door slightly ajar for his grandson like he had for his granddaughter, Samuel checked his watch, with only an hour till midnight.
Back downstairs, back in his rocker, Samuel stared into the fire, being alone in the house with the children asleep. He had told them stories, told them legends, the rules of All Hallows Night. Even showed them a picture from his book, something he had only ever done once before. Earlier that night, with his eldest granddaughter. Smiling, rocking away in his chair, the old man just waited till it was time to blow out the All Hallows Day candle. Smiled and waited…
****Halloween Writing Contest Entry****
