'On All Hallows Eve'

But of course I would write a short story in two days just in time to share with you on Halloween!

Sit back, relax, light a few candles, maybe pour yourself a glass of wine as you wait for your trick or treaters to come, unwind. You'll certainly need to after this tale of a family, their orchard, and the strange happenings that occur on All Hallows Eve.

'On All Hallows Eve'

By S. Faxon

Poison ivy grew up the sides of the twisted apple trees. The shriveled, rugose branches looked to be the visual silent screams of the vine tortured trees.

The little girl riding beside her grandfather on the cart stared out into the orchard of her family. The way the vines posed threats to her and how cruelly they appear to be slowly strangling those apple trees puzzled her. "Grandpa?" She tugged on his jacket sleeve, never turning away from the trees. "Why is the ivy so mean?"

Seamus had been so deeply concentrating on driving the horse home quickly with a wagon full of pumpkins that her light voice spooked him. On every other night he was a lionhearted man. Tonight however, things were very different. He looked down to his seven-year-old granddaughter and saw that she was transfixed upon the orchard. "What's that, Sophie?"

The child repeated, "the Ivy. Why is it so mean?"

Sophie's delightful curiosity was always such a pleasant relief to this hard-working farmer. Even tonight her interest made his heart lighten. The grandfather looked to his apple trees and asked, "what do you mean?"

Now that her desire to satisfy her curiosity had arisen, Sophie turned forward to speak. "Well, mom is always yelling at Jacob and me to stay away from them or we’ll get itchy and the trees, grandpa, don't they look hurt? Is the ivy trying to steal their apples?"

The grandfather chuckled and answered, "no Sophie, ivy doesn't eat apples. The vines go to the trees after the water we give them. We've had a dry spring so I wasn't surprised to see all the ivy on the trees throughout the summer and fall. Apple trees such as these just go that way. That's how God made them. Now, your mother is right to warn you and Jacob not to go anywhere near the Ivy. It'll be the longest most painful itch if you do!"

"But why, grandpa?" Sophie persisted. "Why does the ivy do that to us? Do the trees get itchy?"

Seamus waited to answer as he turned their burly horse up the path that would take them home. The sun was turning down for the night and Seamus would only be too glad to be safe within the confines of his home. The cart began its assent up the hill when Seamus answered, "the itch that ivy gives is its way of protecting itself. It wants to be left alone, so it makes us itchy if we touch it that's its way of saying ‘look in my shiny leaves but don't touch. I'll mind my own if you mind yours’."

The answer left the blonde little girl in silence for a spell. As the cart neared the top of the hill she asked, "do people do that? Protects themselves so that others stay away?"

Almost instinctively the farmer's heart skipped a beat and his eyes quickly flashed to a hillside very close to his home. He gulped hard as the wicked Baron spot came into sight. No tree, shrub, or flower grew on that place. It was good riddance as far as the farmer was concerned. Nothing decent could come from that soil.

Though frost was etched across the windows of the house and it's very close barn the anxiety that Seamus felt made sweat form on his brow.

There were eyes of wicked intent upon him. Their power was growing. His eyes shot to the sun. It was still far too early for anything to begin, but with Sophie at his side, Seamus would leave nothing to chance. Experience had taught him that cruelly well. Protectively he put his arm around Sophie. With a flick of his wrist he commanded the horse to increase his gait.

"Yes, Sophie," Seamus said as though stricken with fear. "Man has defenses to protect himself to keep others away." Where she but a few years older, he would have enumerated a few examples with fear thing at the top of his list.

~*~*~

The children of the house were made busy with pumpkins cleaning. There was much to be done and the adults thought it best that the children be kept in the kitchen. Todd, the elder cousin of Sophie and her older brother Jacob, cut into the pumpkins with a bitter look upon his face. He thought it stupid to still be considered one of the children. His cousins scraping feeds out from the gourds were seven and ten – babies in his eyes, though he was but 16. This was the worst night of the year. Every one else in the neighboring town was getting ready for the feast of fall, but not their family. They would participate in tomorrow's festivities as joyfully, even if not more so, than everyone else. But tonight they would go to bed early as if buckling down for a horrible storm. Todd rolled his eyes and threw down his knife.

"What's your problem?" Jacob asked his cousin.

Todd crossed his arms and slouched in his chair. It upset him deeply that his friends were having fun while he was forbidden from leaving the house.

Sophie looked to the boys. She was too young yet to realize that the family's ceremony that upset Todd was one that he had endured for years. It had no depth for her yet and she accepted it as a normal part of life. Todd however, knew that their tradition was anything but normal.

"I can't wait to get out of this place," Todd mumbled to himself.

"Why, because cutting a pumpkin is too hard for you?" Jacob smartly asked.

Todd kicked him under the table and said, "shut it. Nothing about tonight is normal. You don't know anything."

"Hey!" Todd's mother entered the kitchen to collect the pot full of pumpkin seeds. "Please don't you start talking like the city friends of yours." She helped her niece and nephew to get the remains of the pumpkins into the pot. The night had begun and traditions had to be honored. "Alright you lot, the room is all made up for you tonight. Soph, Jacob, your mother is up there waiting for you."

Todd leaned over his pumpkin as though to reluctantly get up, but before his legs extended he asked his mother, "mom please, can I please go into town tonight?"

"Absolutely not," Seamus entered the room. His expression was hard, there was no question that the plea was denied. Seamus's presence although usually warm and loving was terrifying. It was as though his words made the difference between life and death. "We do not leave this house on this night. Do you understand me?"

While Todd wanted to scream back, 'no I don't understand,' he knew better than to argue with his white haired grandfather. "Yes, sir." Rowdy and rebellious as his mind could be, Todd overall was a good boy.

"That goes for all of you," Seamus pointed at his son’s children to impress their equal understanding. After a moment more of his crisp blue eyes stressing his point by staring down the grandchildren, Seamus believe the point sufficiently delivered. "Now come, Todd, I need your help moving my chair." Seamus kissed his youngest grandchildren with all his love poring over them before he left the room. The lanky teen followed closely behind.

The other two children went upstairs to the room. The pair prepared for bed like normal with the guidance of their mother who just finished making their once a year beds. The mother tenderly and lovingly kissed her son and daughter tonight. She told them that she loved them that they were safe and sound. Their father followed with the same messages of love and protection. One candle remained lit for Todd, but otherwise the room was enveloped in total darkness.

The agitation of his older cousin did not sit well with Jacob. Why was he so angry? They only did this once a year. Jacob looked to the blank walls of this tight room. There were no windows, but of course they wouldn't be. This was the storage room in the house on the second floor. Every year the women spent this day clearing and cleaning this room to make space for three thin mattresses. There was no room between the beds. They were more than less piled on top of the other. And what did Todd 'mean by 'this isn't normal'? The ceremony of them sleeping like this certainly stood out compared to the rest of the year when Todd slept in his own room while Jacob and Sophie slept in there's. Jacob could not recall ever being told why this happened. He'd always just accepted it. But that was about to change. "Sophie," he asked quietly, the door was open and he did not want the adults downstairs to hear. "Did mom, dad, auntie or grandpa ever tell you why we sleep in here?"

Sophie was already almost asleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "I don't know." She tried to think hard, but before she could answer Todd came into the small space. The teen looked as annoyed as he had prior to their grandfather’s appearance earlier. "I hate this room," he declared, and yet he obeyed his mother's orders and shut the door behind him. The candle on the shelf flickered almost to extinction, barely blinking itself up once more. "It's so stuffy, it's so small, and this is so stupid!" He fell heavily into the center bed, burying his tanned face deep into the pillow.

"Do you know?" Sophie asked of Todd.

"Know what?" he sharply responded, his words were muffled by the pillow.

"Why we sleep in here," Jacob explained. "I don't think I've ever been told."

"That's because you haven't," Todd snapped. Truth be told, neither had he. However, after fourteen years of the ceremony, he had his fair share of ideas. One of which he decided to share. Flipping over onto his back, the teen brushed his long brown hair from his eyes and said, "Look, you know how grandpa lost his sister when he was young? I think that what the adults do at night here has something to do with honoring her or something. Like, it makes sense what with it being All Hallows Eve and all."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Jacob asked, Sophie wondered the same.

Todd rubbed his forehead as he answered carefully, hoping to not frighten or to upset them, "All Hallows is allegedly the night in which the spirits of the dead get to walk the earth, but it's just an old ghost story, it's not real so don't pay any mind to it."

Sophie was sitting board straight with the covers up to her chin. "They walk the earth?" The girl had lived on a farm all her life – she had seen more than her fair share of animals that had passed away and very much understood the concept of death. Yet even so, the prospect of seeing her lost pets again was frightening.

Todd shrugged, attempting to calm his cousins by showing his own casualness toward the legend. "Sophie, really, it's not real. It was invented to give people comfort so they could honor loved ones lost, that's all." Jacob looked curious and Sophie less than comforted. A horrible guilty feeling rose in Todd’s stomach. "Look, we've never been told not to leave the room – I bet you anything they’re down there right now talking about it. But, I swear, if you two go down there and they get angry, I'm not going to cover for you. And I'm not saying that you guys should go down there, I'm just saying that what they're doing really is not that big a deal. They just don't want us involved because they don't want us to get upset." Todd briefly thought on the loss of his own father when he was a child and for a moment he dropped his anger toward being cooped up, understanding instead why his story of precaution made sense.

~*~*~

Hours passed. Darkness and silence prevailed. Sophie’s nervous curiosity had been mostly satiated, but the desire to sleep overcame the need to ask questions. The work from the day had exhausted Todd and he had fallen fast asleep. Jacob had not slept a wink. The idea of the lost reappearing and of some secret ceremony to honor them was too much weighing on his mind. It pressed on him like a weight upon his chest. He could not let it go.

Jacob threw his blankets to the wall. Not wanting to disturb Todd, Jacob gently arched his leg over the end of the mattress, furtively placing his bare feet upon the floor. The boy began to slowly open the door, letting in a soft hue of light, but something stopped him. A strange sensation, a streak of deranged desire told the boy not to go alone. Asking Todd to accompany him was out of the question, but Sophie was fair game. He crept onto her bed and gently tapped her on the shoulder. The girl was deep asleep, but Jacob was determined. Eventually he managed to wake her with a gentle shaking. The girl made a soft noise from being startled, which stirred their cousin. Jacob held his breath. He did not want to get caught sneaking off by Todd who would either drag them back into their beds or rat on him in the morning. Luckily, their cousin remained asleep. Sophie wanted to ask what was happening, but her brother shushed her and directed her to follow. The pair stepped out into the hall. The room was directly in front of the stairs leading from the first floor. The only light came from the lanterns downstairs.

"What are we doing?" Sophie quietly asked her brother. Sneaking around after bed time was not tolerated and Sophie had a sneaky suspicion that it was especially not permitted tonight.

Jacob again motioned her to be quite. He leaned in very close and whispered, "I just want to see what they're doing. Don't you? We're not leaving the house so how much trouble can we get into?"

There was a bit of logic to it, but it was too late for any true sense of practicality to shine. Sophie agreed. The pair of them slowly descended the steps. Having both practice at walking this house while trying to be sneaky, they masterfully crept upon the far edges of the board's so to lessen the chance of the steps creaking. The light grew as they neared the bottom of the stairs, but the adults were not in the family room or in the living room. The children soon figured that their parents were in the kitchen adjoining the hall. The door was closed with the intent if not disturbing the children. As Jacob and Sophie slowly stepped forward with light and cautious footfalls the sound of the adult voices became clear. Jacob peeked through the small crack between the door and blue painted frame.

“It's almost midnight," Jacob's father, Arthur, said to his wife and his sister. He tucked his modest pocket watch away. The adults looked to be doing anything but celebrating or paying homage to a lost loved one. They were all seated around the round wooden table with cups of steaming coffee in their hands. 'Maybe it's already over?' Jacob thought to himself as Sophie pushed away under him so to also look through the crack. She noticed immediately the worried looks on their faces and she thought it odd that her grandfather was not there.

"God, I wish this horrible night was over," their mother Diana ran her fingers nervously through her bangs. It had been torture enduring this madness since her son was two, but what choice did she have? This was her husband's father's home and now it was hers.

"I wish this curse would end," Arthur added. He bit at his nails and stared off into the darkness of the window nearby. This view looked out in the direction of town for now, but soon the second to last of the open windows would be shut tight until morning.

Arthur's sister tried to lighten the moment by jokingly saying, "think of all the salt we could save." She pointed at the window. A fine line of salt lined this and every opening into the house. It was a strategy that the family used for years and it seemed to be an effective talisman, one of many.

"Salt and sanity," Arthur leaned far back in his chair to stretch. "Ours and his. An old of man sitting up in the front room all night, watching, waiting…" A chill ran over him. The man shook his head. "I can remember him doing this since before you were born, Carol." It went on for years," he continued distantly, like his words had long been repressed even though this conversation had unofficially become a part of the annual tradition. "We slept in my room until I was seventeen and then," he held out his hands, "nothing. It stopped. Then all was well until Todd and you moved in, Carol, when he was six or seven."

Carol nodded. "I've wondered for years if my husband's death had anything to do with it."

"Surely not," Diana placed a comforting hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "It couldn't have, dear. It's the presence of the children – that's what does it." Diana leaned back and said, "we've talked about moving a-thousand times, but…"

Arthur chuckled, "look what good it did for us the first time. We moved to town once we got married, all was well, then our business failed, and we had no choice but to move in with her father to avoid coming back here, then Jacob was born, two years later her father died and look where we have ended up. We've thought about sending our children away to school, but were so rooted to this tradition. What if we break it? Would they change their routine? We know that they will start at the barn, terrorize the animals, then sweep around this house like a twister. And then come morning it'll be like nothing happened. "

"It's like they did it," Carol said coldly, "all the bad things that have ever happened to us. They want to keep us here."

The thought was terribly unnerving, but it was nothing that the three of them had not thought of prior.

Arthur turned to reach behind him to shut and lock the indoor shutters. He briefly thought on the summer when he was four when he helped his father install these. He thought it odd then to install shutters inside, but now, now he understood. The husband and older brother looked forward and reached his hands to his wife and sister. "Well, we might as well get started." They put their hands in his and in each other's, making a tight circle. In a soft but firm voice, Arthur started the ceremony that would last the night. "In His name we ask that you protect this house and all who inhabit it."

They sat in silence a moment and then in unison began, "Our Father who art in heaven…"

At that same moment in the front of the house Seamus stood from his chair. The man's right leg tingled and was stiff from fear and pressure. He dragged his leg forward so to stare out the last open window. This view looked over the front of the house toward the orchard and that only too close, lonely hill. It was upon the barren place where Seamus’ eyes locked.

The night was dark. No moon showed its face tonight and yet upon that naked Hill a soft, silver light began to grow. From nothing a shadow within the light etched its way out from the soiled past. It grew as though from the roots forming the silhouette of the dead sycamore, just as it had done every year before. From the long, gnarled branche’s shadows came three taught lines, the bulge of three nooses and then, there they were.

The unglorious dead.

The shadow image of the three hanged men made Seamus whence. His hair stood on end. So many wicked memories and scarring dreams assail him.

The shadows stayed but for a minute before being swallowed up by the darkness of the night.

It was time.

Seamus slowly shut the shutters and fastened the lock. "So," he said to the candle he extinguished. "Here they come."

~*~*~

"I don't like this, Jacob," Sophie said to her brother. Their parents had entered a sort of trance repeating the same prayer over and over. Their eyes were closed tight and their brows were wet from the strain of concentration. It looked as though nothing could break their task from being seen through. They did not see the candles extinguished as if taken by one powerful blow. But the children did. Smoke rose from the dead wicks of the lanterns and candles making the darkness thicker.

Jacob turned to his sister. They stood close, but could not see one another. The house was enveloped in silence. It pressed upon the ear drums of the brother and sister. The sound of their increasing heartbeat filled their heads.

Swallowing hard Jacob whispered, “It might’ve been from the twister that dad said would come."

The sound of animal claws tapping on the wooden veranda split the silence.

The children jumped.

They stood in the relative center of the house, only the family room stood between them and the outer perimeter of the house. The noise came from there. Jacob and Sophie stared into the dark room expecting one of their dogs’ wet noses to comfortingly touch their hands, but it did not come.

"Where are the dogs?" Sophie asked. They were not aware that the animals were locked in the barn for their safety.

"I don't –"

Jacob's response was cut short by a painful chorus of dogs howling, pig squealing, and of the horses desperate whinnying. The cries continued for ages as if something was heckling them without mercy.

"What's happening, Jacob?" Sophie clutched onto her brother's arm. "I want to go to mom and dad!" She started to reach for the kitchen door, but Jacob stopped her.

"We can't!" he said sharply, but quietly. "We’re dead if we do. I don't think we’re supposed to be out of the room." Aside from the fear of his parents’ anger he wanted to see what was happening to his family's animals without interruption. The dogs were never left outside and certainly never in the barn. Why would the adults lock them in there if they were going to be tormented by this twister that was coming? Jacob started to walk toward the family room.

"What are you doing!" Sophie dug her fingers into her brother’s arm. Her legs were paralyzed. "Don't go in there!"

"I want to see what's happening!" Jacob shook his arm from Sophie's grasp. "Don't be such a baby. It's probably just coyotes or the storm." He began to walk into the family room, but paused to say to her, "if you're so scared, go back to bed."

The fear had saturated her muscular responses. She wanted to run into her mother's arms, but she couldn’t move.

Fear drove Jacob forward. He had seen his father and grandfather face fear with the luster of lions. He was determined to do the same.

The young boy knew that above the sofa one of the shutters did not fit together snugly. The odds of him being able to look out through the crack were fairly good. With every step Jacob took toward his intended destination the temperature made dramatic drops. It felt like he was exposed to the elements of February though he had just a minute ago been comfortable. His hands and jaw quivered from a cold and his exposed skin stung. He rationalized this cold to the twister that must be brewing. In his short life he had yet to experience a twister, but these things made sense in his mind. The howling and cries of the animals continued. 'Maybe they're afraid of the storm.'

Without light Jacob knew he had reached the sofa. Extending his arm he felt his way to kneel upon the cushioned bench.

It was too dark outside to see out through the crack. The animals’ noises from the barn broke his heart as he sat there. He had to know what was happening to them. Jacob's fingers slid their way-up the painted faces of the wooden shutters, searching for the lock. His fingers found the rounded latch. Gripping hold of the lever Jacob gave it a determined twist.

Click.

Instantly the shrieks of the animals ceased.

Jacob stared at the latch he could barely see. The young boy's heart was racing as his mind tried to rationalize the sudden silence. However, there was no time to rationalize.

A screaming wind lashed upon the face of the house. Every window and door rattled and shook as though a hoard of men were desperately trying to get in.

Jacob ripped his hand from the latch and helplessly watched the shutters shake violently as if the windows were not there at all. The calamity was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed. The glass rattled like bones in a box but they did not break. What Jacob thought to be the cries of the wind sounded like the screams of tortured souls.

‘It's just the twister,' he frantically repeated to himself. He knew that he should run for cover, but fear kept him on the sofa. The boy took in a deep breath and quickly prayed for this to end.

To his astonishment everything went still.

Silence.

The windows may have stopped their horrid rattling, but Jacob was anything but relieved. Sweet dripped from his brown hair to his pale face. The boy could not shake the feeling that crept upon him like a wolf his prey. Jacob's heavy breathing was the only noise. The sinking feeling told him that he was not alone. Someone was watching him. Jacob spun this way and that, but he couldn't see any moving shadows or detect any denseness in the darkness. Try as he could to rationalize this there was no room in his mind beyond fear. Jacob tried to draw thought, but suddenly his senses directed him where to turn. Like a cursed beacon the boy had no choice but to satisfy the macabre decision to look. His eyes dragged up from the top of the sofa though every ounce of him said to run. Up, up his eyes went until his curiosity met its killer. Jacob thought his her heart had been ripped from his chest.

Through the slit staring back at him was one red veined eye.

"Jaaaaay-cob," his name was whispered as though hissed from every crack in the house.

They were here for him.

The whisper and the glare of the eye blinded Jacob with terror. The boy fell hard on the floor, taking from him his ability to scream. It felt as though the walls of his home for crushing him, pulling him towards them.

A horrible silver light shone from the outside in through the shutters and the closed door. Again the edifice of the house began to rattle and shake. A thousand piercing screams accompanied the wretched scene.

The boy began to crawl backwards to escape, but two strong arms plucked him from the floor.

A bloodcurdling scream tore from Jacob as he fought with all his might to break free.

"JACOB!" one voice shouted in his ear.

The voice was familiar, but Jacob feared it was the madness of the assailants trying to fool him.

"JACOB, STOP!" A second familiar voice billowed right after Jacob hurled a punch to someone’s nose.

"Get back to the room!" Seamus shouted to Todd, pushing the boys back toward and up the stairs. "Slam that door tight and pray for the dawn!"

Jacob slowly came to see that he was in the arms of his cousin, but there was little comfort from this. The terror of the outside was still waging war upon the house, calling his name.

The last thing the children in their safe room heard before Todd slammed the door shut was their grandfather billowing, "You will never take them! "

The door was shut and all was muted and still.

~*~*~

"What happened last night?" Todd growled at the adults for his cousins. Neither Jacob nor Sophie were yet speaking and they clung to the mother's side like a vice. The family had gathered in the front room early the next morning. All the shutters were open. Sunlight poured into the house. Sunlight shone upon the normally peaceful orchard. The silence of the adults made Todd continue sharply, "It sounded like the house was being torn to bits by men coming for Jacob and yet there is not a single board out of place. Tell us! What happened?"

Arthur rubbed his head. They were all exhausted from the night and from the news of what nearly happened to Jacob. There was hardly a worse feeling for a parent to learn that the child was exposed to hell while they were unknowingly but a few feet away. "Pop," Arthur turned to his father sitting in the faded green chair. "They deserve to know."

Diana I cringe to think that her babies would hear the stories of young, but leaving them wondering would be the greater abuse.

"Tell them, father," Carol further pushed. "If you don't, we will."

Seamus shook his head. "There'll be no need for that." He looked down defeated. It had been his hope to keep his grandchildren as protected and as innocent as long as possible, but this was one more thing that they took from him. "Very well," Seamus gripped the edge of his chair and began the story that he tried to forget every day of his life. "It started when I was eleven. It was September and my sister was coming home late from a friend’s house. We thought the roads were safe back then, so as long as you knew the roads, walking home at night was easily dismissed. At least, that's what we all thought until that night.

"There was a beautiful full moon out. The whole orchard was lit with silver. It was late – my folks were already asleep and I should have been too, but I just couldn't sleep, so I was looking out my window. The house was dark. All was well until…" Seamus’ lower jaw shook. "I saw – I saw a small crowd of people coming up the road with my sister. There were three of them, they were carrying her. I thought something had happened so I ran straight downstairs to see if I could help, but when I reached the first floor and looked out the window and I saw a scene that has been burned into my eyes. They had brought her home alright, but she was already gone. God knows what they did to her before they killed her, before they brought her home, but what they did to her in death was alone more than can ever be forgiven.

"They tried to make it look like coyotes had done it. They ripped her up right there on that damn hill beneath the dead sycamore that my father tore down the year after. There is not a day that goes by that I don't regret not going to my parents, calling for them, so that I was not the only witness, but the horror of what I witnessed..." Seamus broke into tears, but he knew he had to continue. The man collected himself and continued, "it was the worst thing that ever happened in our town. I went into shock. I couldn't talk, couldn't think. Unannounced to me, witnesses came forward; the trial was arranged over the next month. On the last day of the trial my father thought it best that I go to see the murderer of my sister to help me understand what happened.

"The courtroom was packed. Every man and woman in the county was there. I was led to the front of the court to my family's bench behind the prosecutor. I saw immediately that the person accused of the crime was the town's halfwit. He was being accused of what happened to my sister. He was going to be sentenced to hang for a crime he did not commit. And I knew this. I was the only one who knew this.

"The fear that overtook me rivaled that of that dreadful night, but I knew that if my tongue stayed quiet that these men would kill again and again. I gathered all my courage. I knew better than to tell my mother or my father. At the recess I tugged on the prosecutor's robes and whispered in his ear that I had witnessed the crime and wanted to contribute. The jury was still undecided – the halfwit had never done anything that before and the ferocity of the scene… It didn't add up.

"So before the court and after swearing to tell the truth, the lawyer asked me to describe what I saw. I described every gruesome detail leaving out only the identities of the men and that there were three of them. I could see their concern, but I tried not to look at them. Then the question came: 'Seamus, can you identify the murderer of your sister?' And so I told the truth. I raised my hand and pointed to Michael, the halfwit’s neighbor. George, the halfwit’s brother, and then to the worst of them all; Mr. Jonus Terry, the lawyer of the defendant. They tried to dismiss my claims as the distraught ramblings of the mourning brother, but then I told the court to check them and their houses; they had all taken souvenirs from my sister…Her bones.

"Sure enough, instead of trying to put evidence against the halfwit they kept the fingers and the rib they stole from her, something that the coroner had earlier dismissed as being taken by the coyotes.

"’Justice,’ they called it, for what those men did to my sister," Seamus shook his head. "They strung them up under the dead sycamore. Michael and George died instantly, but not Jonus Terry. As if held up by the arms of the devil, with rope strung tight around his neck, he swore to strike fear into my heart and into that of my children's children's children. He would never grant us peace. They were hanged and died on All Hallows Eve.

"A year passed with no occasion, until the anniversary and then, what you all witnessed last night began. But it was worse. Far worse. It took us years to figure out how to keep them out of the house. The prayer your parents repeat cannot be broken. The protective barrier of salt cannot be crossed, which is why we keep the dogs in the barn just in case they should unknowingly destroy the salt wall. The wicked can't come in, we can't go out, and they won't let us move out. I've tried, believe me I've tried." Seamus again began to cry. All the lost years of life, the lost family and friends, all gone because of them.

The family looked around to one another, terrified from last night and for what would continue to come.

"Can nothing be done?" Todd asked his family. It killed him to see his family so upset.

Arthur answered, "It seems to stop once the boys are out of childhood. For your mother and me it stopped when I was seventeen, even though Carol was 15. It didn't start again until you moved in, Todd. It comes back every year. Your aunt and I tried to escape it, as did your mother and father, but they will not let us go."

"There's got to be a way!" Todd pleaded, but the adults shook their heads and exchanged looks of deep sorrow.

Jacob and Sophie listened intently as the adults continue to explain the traditions and practices meant to protect them. They were quiet. Both were hoping that the conversation would soon end so that they could go to the festival to try to forget. But they would forever be plagued by the memory of their first All Hallows Eve.

Happy Halloween!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon