“Now hold still. I’ve got three more buttons to do up and I don’t want you popping seams again.”

Sophie did as she was told, but couldn’t prevent the quirky smile crossing her lips. Alice could be so fussy, but she was the only one who knew the intricate details of the dress. Alice sighed and made sure the skirts hung evenly over the back. “There… now we just need to adjust the front. You can put your arms down.”

Alice came around Sophie, carefully avoiding getting wrapped up in the long train. As Sophie lowered her arms, she gasped as pieces peeled off her left arm in the process. “No matter how carefully I do that, bits still fall off,” Sophie pouted. “Can’t they be restitched?”

“You’ll be nothing but a giant patchwork if we try that, and in all the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never had a bride go down the aisle looking like a secondhand quilt. Where’s the tape?”

“We used it up three, no, four years ago, when your sister Lucy shredded my bodice,” Sophie reminded Alice. “Besides, Martin doesn’t like the tape. He got stuck to me last time.”

“Maybe Gary and his friends can help us.” Alice pursed her tiny lips and released a shrill whistle. The ground under Sophie’s feet started rumbling a moment later, as Gary popped his head up to see what his wife needed. “Honey, do you think you can round up some help? Sophie’s dress keeps falling apart and taking bits of her with it, and we’ve only got seven minutes until Halloween. You know how important it is that she goes down the aisle EXACTLY at midnight. If any of your friends or family are around, the smaller the better, do you think they could help fill in?” Gary nodded and reversed direction back through the hole he’d made. Alice smiled, “he may not be much on conversation, but he’s a great piece of tail.”

Sophie stifled a giggle and turned back to the mirror. Since her left arm was already falling apart, she carefully set it aside and used her right hand to adjust the flowers in her hair. After 137 years, the blossoms had nearly crumbled away, but Sophie had grown to like it. She turned and pulled back the dusty lace curtain from the window, gazing at the cemetery outside. Hundreds of jack-o-lanterns had arrived to light the clearing, the scarecrow groomsmen stood at attention, rustling in the light breeze. Guests had started to arrive, their spectral bodies adding a soft glow to the light thrown by the jack-o-lanterns. Sophie could see her parents and Martin’s, her grandparents, her great-grandparents, generation after generation taking their places in the audience. The ravens decorating the ancient, crumbling gazebo cackled in conversation that even Sophie could hear from the mausoleum.

Alice flitted over to Sophie and brushed against her shoulder. “Dearie, your eye is popping out again. Push it back in, and then you need some more powder on your cheeks. You’re looking goopy.” Sophie turned to the mirror, and with a sticky thud, her eye fell back into the socket. Alice took the decaying powder brush in her claws, dipped it in a mound of dried dirt, and dusted Sophie’s face.

The ground started to rumble again, louder and deeper this time. Gary returned, with dozens of the smallest and thinnest of his kind. The worms knew their purpose, and soon Sophie had been bound back together with living ribbons that arranged themselves into pleats and bows. It added the perfect accompaniment to her gown. Sophie made a note to remember this for next year’s Halloween ceremony. “Do we have time to call the moths? They’d make a lovely veil,” Sophie asked.

Alice peeked out the window and saw Martin take his place at the altar. His tuxedo hadn’t fared well the last few years, with more mud and mold clinging to it than before, but his dead eyes were just as bright as the first time he and Sophie had participated in the Halloween rituals. “I wish we did, but no. Your beloved betrothed is at the altar, and… oh no, you know the rules… no matter how many times you’ve done this, you don’t get to see your groom before the wedding.” Alice flapped in front of Sophie’s face to get her away from the window. “Now let’s hurry and finish. There will be hell to pay if we aren’t on time.”

A rustling of wings beat on the mausoleum door. “Oh good,” Alice said, “my sisters have arrived to carry your train.” Several bats entered and arranged themselves around the back of Sophie’s dress, ready to go.

“Now, just a few more touches, and…” Alice stopped still, cocked her small, furry head to the side, and listened. A slow smile crept across her face, showing all her tiny sharp teeth in detail. “Oh my dear… it looks like this will be the last Halloween that you and Martin will be our bride and groom. Another young couple has just crossed over. Next year, they will perform the rite, and will continue to do so until they are replaced. But I have to say, you’ve been my favorite bride of all, and certainly have done this the longest of any couple.”

Sophie stared at Alice, her long dead heart wrenching slightly, and her eyes prickled with the remembered sting of tears that dried ages ago. Her voice quavered, “what will happen to Martin and I?” Alice smiled and touched her wing to Sophie’s hand.

“Nothing, my dear. Love never dies.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you over to Stephie’s house?” my Mom asked, her worry written plainly across her face.

“Mom! I’ll be fine. Please, don’t make me look like a little kid! I'll be with my friends.” I would’ve tried stamping a foot, but ballerina slippers lack the necessary weight for a truly satisfying stomp.

“Okay, sweetie. It’s just that I can’t help but worry… because, well, you know…” her voice trailed off while I made a final adjustment to my tiara. “And the costume. It just really brings back those memories.”

Maybe I was feeling a little guilty for the lie I was telling, so I took a moment to reassure her, “I know Mom. And who knows, maybe this will be the last year for the ballerina costume. Maybe even for Halloween.”

Before she could try to make that into a promise, I slipped out the door and started across the yard. “Don’t worry! I’ve got my cell and I’ll make sure to use my flashlight!”

I knew she would be watching until her line of sight was cut off by the front of the Iverson’s hedge. So it was no surprise not to hear his voice until I reached the far end.

“Hi Kate! What’s the plan of attack?” Billy stepped out from the deep shadow of the hedge, his hands resting on the pistols holstered at his waist. “The houses are closer together on Coldspring, but I think the quality is better up on High Street.”

“I don’t know. How about we skip High Street this time? I just want to, you know, hang around here.” I continued down the sidewalk, leaving Iverson’s behind and Billy fell in beside me, affecting a bow-legged cowboy walk to go with the costume.

“Sure. Sure. Hey, what a total dork Mr. Samson looked today, huh? Dressed up like a skateboarder? Who’s he kidding?” Billy took one of his pistols and made a crazy swirling gesture at his temple. Then he made a dramatic show of pulling of the trigger like he was blowing his brains out. “I swear this year is going to be the longest ever. The 5th grade has got to be better.”

Billy continued to chatter as we moved from house to house and I was pretty much content to listen. Only when we crossed the paths of other costumed candy mongers, would we pause in our joking and goofing around. Billy had always been a bit anxious that people might think we were boyfriend and girlfriend.

All in all, it was a wonderful night spent with my best friend in the world. The pursed lips and carefully hidden disapproval that greeted me at each door we trick-or-treated was not enough to dampen my happiness. Each dark comment of “My how big you’ve grown.” or “Look, our favorite ballerina is back. Again.” just slid past me, lost in the glow of our Halloween camaraderie.

But, nice as it is, something is missing. Something is always missing. Like finding your favorite Dr. Seuss book, lost for years back behind your bookcase. That old, beat-up cover instantly brings back a feeling of love, comfort, and connection to the person who read you to sleep. But when you open it, even though the words are all the same, you can’t quite recapture that feeling. They words don't change. But you have.

Billy’s voice cut into my thoughts. “So, that’s about it. We’ve done the loop. If we head down High Street, we can cut across Shapiro’s backyard to your house. I think we made a major haul tonight.” He pointed down the intersecting sidewalk, parallel to the direction we’d come from.

“I can’t… I don’t want to go there, Billy. Look, let’s just stay here and talk for a little bit.” But I had no idea what to say. He just wouldn’t understand. The changes in my life just wouldn’t make any sense to him. How could I tell him that this might be my last Halloween? How could I tell him that I was pretty sure Jeff Forrester was going to ask me out? And how could I tell him that no, 5th grade didn’t turn out great. That in fact, it had been the bleakest, most desperate year of my life and I was only now starting to get over it.

How do I tell him that I will never, ever go on High Street again?

“Girls!” Billy rolls his eyes at me, “Always wanting to yak when they should be doing something else. Like getting more candy!” He starts to back down the High Street sidewalk. “Come on, Kate.”

“I can’t. I can’t go down there again, Billy.” The memories are starting to churn. This is the price I pay each year to be with Billy.

“Okay, your loss! I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Maybe we’ll have a substitute if old Samson takes a nosedive on his skateboard.” As he moves further down the street, Billy begins to fade even though the street lampss keep the walk well lit.

I close my eyes before he disappears completely, not knowing if it is the last I’ll ever see him. Behind my eyelids, the memories of that Halloween five years past rip through me once again. Billy and I walking down High Street, the sudden appearance of a car moving way too fast for Halloween night in a small neighborhood. The car swerves over the curb, tearing Billy away from me while striking my head with the passenger-side mirror. My last moment of clarity being astonished at the way Billy’s cowboy hat spun through the air.

I cannot accept that this will be my final memory of Billy. Halloween will come again and Billy and I will be together.

Eric sat on the couch, alone in the house, with a big bowl of assorted candy on his lap, watching John Carpenter's The Fog on what so far was The Best Halloween Ever.

On screen Mrs. Kobritz was telling little Andy to lock the windows, while Eric rummaged through the dregs of chocolaty goodness, looking for anything without coconut. The Reese's Cups were the first casualty, followed soon after by the mini-Snickers and -Milky Way bars. Scattering the empty wrappers on the floor, he uncovered some Crunch bars when there came a loud knock at the door.

“Well, here we go with round 12.” He paused the movie just as Mrs. Kobritz was walking out into the dense, unearthly fog, weaponless and witless, looking for the source of the scary banging, and went to answer the door.

Outside he saw a group of surly teenagers cleverly dressed as surly teenagers.

“Trick or treat.” They uttered the traditional phrase with as much enthusiasm as a person digging his own grave at gunpoint.

“Wow, what great costumes! How long did it take you to come up with blue jeans and t-shirts?”

“What? Look, we said trick or treat; just give us some candy.” As one, the teens held out ratty-looking pillow cases.

Eric made a big show of thinking things through, then said “Ya know, I'd like to but I'm all out. Sorry. I guess you'll just have to trick me.”

The alpha teen leaned back and looked over the house front, then stared at Eric and said “It looks like you've been 'tricked' a few times already. I have half a mind...”

“Beat it, punks!”

Eric slammed the door shut and, with a smile on his face, returned to the movie, thinking that ought to get'em going!

Minutes later he heard the unmistakable whump whump whump of eggs impacting the house.

When he thought the barrage was over, Eric sprang up off the couch and ran to the door, flinging it open.

“Is that all you got, you...”

His exclamation was cut short. He barely ducked out the way as one last egg went whizzing past him, through the short hallway and splattered on the kitchen wall behind him.

“Wow, good throw,” but he was speaking to the teens' receding backs.

The whole night had been a version of this most recent attack; little kids got candy, but anyone older than 10 or so received a taunt or undignified dismissal, otherwise know as an invitation to trickery.

Ignoring another knock at the door, Eric checked his watch and decided it was time to wrap things up. He went into the kitchen, barely sparing a glance at the egg oozing its way down to the floor, and grabbed a piece of note paper and a pen. He wrote a quick note, went into the living room and shut off the DVD player and TV.

Grabbing one last handful of candy, he went out the front door, stepping over a now-smoldering bag of dog poop. A survey of the yard brought a smile to his face.

The trees were heavily festooned with toilet paper (and what looked like a pair of underwear, used), the yard was dusted with quite a bit of flour, and the front of the house was abused. Badly. There were egg- and wet toilet paper wad-impacts all over, more toilet paper adorned the shutters, the windows were throughly soaped...even the remaining car had been hit; more soaped windows, air let out of tires, shaving cream all over.

Before wedging the note in the outer door, he read through it once more.

With a satisfied grin on his face, Eric walked around the corner to where his car was safely parked and drove home.

When I was growing up, there were eight of us in the family and money was tight. I never had a Barbie doll, a Big Wheel or an Easy-Bake Oven. What I did have were two parents, four older sisters and an older brother with big imaginations and loving hearts.

I was six years old and I wanted to be a princess for Halloween. Every time we went to the store, I would stand in front of the costume display, pining for the beautiful satin princess dress, the long blonde wig and the glittering diamond tiara. My six-year-old eyes didn’t see that the dress was actually cheap rayon, the wig practically plastic and the tiara clear glass. To me, that costume was the height of elegance, and I wanted it with all my heart.

Times were hard. Living on an old farm, we had a big vegetable garden and never went hungry, but we just didn’t have the money for fripperies. Even at six years old, I knew that. I only mentioned the princess costume to Mom once; the sad, shamed look on her face almost broke my heart. I never said anything again. Oh, but I looked at it with hungry eyes.

October 30th came around. My siblings all had their homemade costumes ready to go. When they asked me what I was going to be for trick-or-treating the next night, I shrugged listlessly and said, “Oh, I guess I’ll just wear Barb’s hobo costume from last year.” I went to bed early and quietly cried myself to sleep.

Halloween was on a Saturday that year. After breakfast, Dad asked me if I wanted to go out for a walk in the woods with him. He needed to mark the trees which he was going to be chopping down and cutting up for firewood in the next few weeks. It was the first time my dad had taken only me along with him. Usually, there were anywhere from three to all six of us tagging along with him when he did his errands in the woods. That day, Dad and I took along our lunch and spent the day walking and talking. By the time we returned home hand-in-hand in mid-afternoon, I felt a little better about the world.

I opened the door and saw my mom and all my siblings standing in front of me, grinning like the Halloween pumpkin on our front porch. They separated to show me what was laid out on the couch, waiting for me: a princess costume of my very own! There was a long, shimmering gown of deep green, a curly wig the color of the sun, a bright-red diamond studded tiara and dainty slippers with jewels winking across the toes. It was all so beautiful.

While I was gone, my mom and my siblings had been hard at work. My mom took the beautiful green robe my dad had given her for their tenth anniversary, cut it down and sewed it into a long, silky princess dress with a train. My oldest sister, Judy, raided the family construction paper supplies and fashioned a blonde (well, yellow) wig, with the ends all curled up and a fashionable fringe of bangs. Steve, the oldest and the only boy, took the hair band my sister Cindy offered up for the occasion and crafted a cardboard tiara, painted a brilliant red and covered with the glass beads from Barb’s necklace. Marcy, who was only a year older than I, even got into the act; she painted my old sneakers red to match the tiara and used the leftover beads to make a pretty pattern across the toes.

With my family around me, I quickly got into my glorious princess costume. There I was, in my shiny satin dress, with my pretty yellow hair and my red tiara with matching shoes. As a finishing touch, Judy quickly crafted a pair of curling, black, construction paper eyelashes and taped them to my eyebrows. I was a beautiful princess. I was in Heaven!

As I walked out the door to go trick-or-treating, I knew I was going to have the best Halloween ever. And I did.

It is the end of British Summer Time and Greenwich Mean Time is now in play, meaning that it gets dark an hour earlier. By 4pm the village is ablaze with street lighting and shop windows displaying seasonal pumpkins and spooky cut-outs. Those autumnal leaves, which have not been swept away by the street cleaner, are slippery underfoot and if one is not careful one could go slithering across the pavement, falling and cracking one’s knee. Let’s not think about that.

The road out of the village and up onto the marshes is dark. The local council see no point in spending money lighting those country roads to the swampy marshlands, where no sane person would live. In fact, the only house which exists out on the moors is derelict and houses bats – now a protected species. The only people crazy enough to go there in the dark are in the minds of Hollywood horror movie writers. You’re not thinking about it, are you?

It’s been raining all day; the night air is damp and the mist is rolling in off the moors. Out there you can’t see your hand in front of your face, so it would be lunacy to try and navigate across swampy territory just to explore an old derelict house in the dark. Yes, I know it’s Halloween, but please let me talk you out of this. We’re new to Crompton-on-the-Moor. We don’t know the area that well yet. Let’s take a walk around the village instead, where the streets are well-lit and the shops and houses give off a warm glow from their windows. I really think leaving the village would be dangerous with the fog being this dense.

***

Now really, I told you about those squidgy leaves. I heard that crack. I think you’ve fractured your kneecap. Hold still and I’ll get help. Don’t move.

Don’t worry. I won’t leave you. I’m here if you need me.

***

Okay … are you ready now to go and visit the Manor? I’m so glad you waited until we could do it in daylight. We can drive up by road and walk up the drive to the old house.

I really don’t think you should try and get in. I think it’s still trespassing, even if nobody does know who the owner is.

Oh … the door is open? That’s lucky. Stay by me though, ‘cos I think this place is still spooky, even in the daytime.

***

We’ll be alright now, sweetheart. They’ve found us. I was going to light a fire, but you were in such pain. Then, when you went all cold, I tried to hug you and keep you warm. I don’t know what happened then. I think I must have fallen asleep. You know, both of us being in our seventies, it wasn’t a good idea to keep the Manor. We are both too isolated. We really should move into the village. We’ll be alright now, though. They’ve found us.

***

Thank goodness we didn’t go up there last night. Finding two skeletons in the daylight was freaky enough! They must have been there for at least twenty years. Sad, isn’t it? You’d have thought someone would have explored the old place before now, wouldn’t you? Still, the village church is so pretty and they’ll be happy together in that picturesque little cemetery.

Let’s go home where it’s warm and safe. Ooops! Nearly came a cropper. Watch those leaves … they’re really slippery at this time of the year.

Closer and closer he gets, clumps of moist earth fly from thundering hooves, hellish breathing matching the pace. Small creatures duck for cover as the rider passes, intent upon his destination.

Standing tall and dark, it was a tribute to Victorian Goth. It had gingerbread decorations coupled with mean looking gargoyles. The yard had been decorated for the night and was transformed into a graveyard complete with rolling fog. The jack-o-lantern grinned out at the street with a creepy lopsided snarl.

Brian rang the bell. A shadow crossed the glass in the door, blurred by aging sheer lace. There stood a tall, thin woman; a dark robe wrapped around her small frame. Hair all white and stringy framed a face unkindly treated by time. Her eyes, once a magnificent blue were now slightly opaque.

Realizing who her visitors were, her face lit up; she moved aside beckoning the children to enter.

“I am so glad you came!” After asking how their night had gone thus far, she inspected their outfits.
“Very stunning job, yes, most impressive.” She spoke nodding her head in agreement with her own proclamations until she got to the head piece that Tess had crafted.

Suddenly, she got very quiet and asked where Tess had gotten one of the stones she had used. The girl looked down and quietly said that she had found it on a dresser upstairs. She had meant to ask but had forgotten.

The old woman looked at her. “You know I would let you borrow almost anything I own. This is one of those things better kept here.”

Tess, almost in tears, took the broach off and handed it back to the woman. “I am so sorry; I never meant to upset you.”

The woman looked at her and smiled, “There is a dark story behind this innocent bauble."

Brian, looking to lighten the mood, asked their hostess to tell the story. Looking at him; a whisper of sadness slid across her face. “Alright children, but let’s head into the parlor and warm up by the fire.”

“You see, children long ago there was a beautiful woman. Her family was well to do and she had her choice of suitors. There was one from a poor family who loved her more than the others. She secretly loved him as well, but was too proud to marry beneath her, so she married the man her parents had chosen. The poor boy later committed suicide.

Not long after the wedding, she received a small parcel. The card said it was a wedding gift from an old friend. She was taken aback at its beauty. Sometimes she could swear she heard her loves voice while she gazed into its depths, thinking she heard it say, ‘I love you now and I will love you always. I will come for you when the time is right’

A month later, her husband died after being struck down by a runaway wagon. She had bad dreams for a long time and felt horribly guilty. She put the stone away and forgot about it for a while.

While cleaning, she came across the broach again and marveled at the beauty of it. The years had not tarnished its glory and she hung it in her bedroom window. It was gorgeous dancing in the sunlight. After a while she could swear she heard her old love’s voice again. It said, ‘I love you now and I will love you always. I will come for you when the time is right’ this brought back all the sadness and she locked it away in a drawer.

Time passed and she became but a shell of her former self. People began to be afraid of her and whisper behind her back. She was a sad old woman full of love with no one to share it. Until one day, two children showed up at her door asking to shovel snow from her walkway. “The twins looked at each other as the impact of the story began to sink in. The woman adjusted herself in the chair, cleared her throat and continued.

“While clearing some junk, she found it again and placed it on her dresser. Then, just last week, she heard it speak again. This time it said, ‘I love you now, I will love you always. The time is close. Be ready come Halloween.’

The children both jumped when they heard a horses whinny eagerly calling just outside. She pulled the stone out of her pocket and looked at it, trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. As if in a trance, she stood up and walked to the door. Outside, a hooded figure mounted on a magnificent black steed reached out a gloved hand to her.

He pulled her easily up onto the steed behind him. She hugged him tightly, tears flowing down both cheeks, a huge smile fracturing the mask of age and the children saw her as she was in youth. The stallion reared , turned and raced down the lane, fading from sight into the misty night.

Tess, spotted the broach, scooped it up and slid it into her bag. This was a Halloween she certainly would never forget.

Jerry rest his head on the soft pillow. The night had exhausted him. As a young promising dentist, he both abhorred and appreciated Halloween. After all, today's treats were tomorrow's cavities. However trying to teach his two young daughters the benefits of fructose abstinence had driven him to distraction tonight. He had dutifully taken his four and six year old daughters out trick or treating, all the while silently cursing his wife for having an out-of-town meeting. He took them around, watching the joy on their faces, then like a good and caring father, he had doled out one piece of candy for each of them, then promptly put the rest away in a high cupboard. He had weathered the disappointed looks well enough as he marched them off to bed, wondering why hardly anyone gave out raisons.

Yes, Jerry rested his battle weary head down, feeling proud at his will power and just plain good common sense at driving home the evils of processed sugar to his two adoring children. He didn't stand for it in his house, and yet somehow he was expected to gleefully shove handfuls of the stuff into his kids every Halloween? Hardly, he thought with a silent harumph. He knew deep down inside his daughters would love him for what he had done.

Just as Jerry started to slip into a naturally sweetened slumber, a noise brought him back awake. An odd noise, he dismissed as part of an unformed dream, until he heard it again. The soft susurration against the kitchen linoleum. Jerry a man unafraid of the terrors of the night, quietly moved from his bed to the closed door and thew it open.

Darkness, nothing but shadows and silence. He started a sigh of relief when he saw a shadow, darker than the rest, move quickly passed him. Startled, he jumped and reached for the light switch. The dazzling light caught him off guard as his eyes tried to adjust to the newfound radiance. Then he saw it; on the floor splayed-legged sat his eldest daughter; face covered in chocolate, eyes rolled back into her head, smiling a vacuous smile as multi-hued goo dribbled from the corner of her mouth. His youngest, vibrating from the evil sugar, was standing upside down on the ceiling, tossing handfuls of the candy down to her sister.

The youngest, turned eerily bloodshot eyes to him and said, "Its so good Father....try some."

Jerry considered himself a brave man and a loving parent, but he did the only thing he could think to do in this situation. He shut the door and locked it. Running to his bedside he reached into the table and took out the one small book that gave him comfort in times of trouble; the American Dental Association's guide book to good oral hygiene. He scanned the pages, feeling somehow comforted by the instructions on proper flossing.

The doorknob to his room slowly turned, bringing him out of his reverie. It was okay, he thought, it's locked. But the brass-plated knob just kept turning. Jerry sprang out of his bed and grabbed the bottle of fluoridated water his father had given him as a gift at the age of twelve. Taking the top off, he put his thumb on the opening and waited. The door creaked open and there they stood. His daughters; hair straight and greasy, panting from the rush of demonic sugar, skin sallow and wane. His eldest brandished a chocolate bar the size of a louisville slugger at him as she said, "Come Father, taste of its goodness."

"NO!" Jerry screamed and splashed some of the water on them. Quickly he read aloud from his beloved book. "The power of the A.D.A. compels you!" Passage after passage on cleaning upper bicuspids and frequent splashes of water and always the appeal to come into the light of a healthy mouth, were uttered as he ran around his bed trying to avoid the greasy confection-stained hands.

Jerry slipped on some of his own pure fluoridated water and went down hard. The girls were on him in a second, not the soft loving hands of his daughters, but hands as hard and cold as they were tiny. Jerry looked up just in time to see the baseball bat sized candy bar coming straight at his face.....

"No seriously honey, I was just clumsy. Hit my head, you know me; always thinking about work," he said as he hugged his wife hello. "I'm glad you are back."

His wife just happy to be home after her long trip, soaked up the familial warmth and wondered where the smell of chocolate had come from.

Jerry finally pulled away from his wife and said with a devilish glint in his eye, "Oh and tonight your daughters and I have a big surprise for you, its very sweet." He pulled her inside, away from the burning sunlight. Inside to await the darkness and the surprise that would make them all one big happy family again.

“Are we going to have to go through this again, Eddie? I’m pretty tired of listening to your complaints every time Halloween rolls around.”

“I mean it, I’m finished with this, this, . . charade. You’re the one that wants to do this; you go do it and leave me alone! I won’t do it!”

“Yes you will, you like it as much as I do and don’t deny it. Every single time, you always take charge and do it all. I just stand back and marvel at your skill. I always wonder at how you can be so calm about it. I get so excited, I can hardly hold still.”

“I know you do, that’s why I do it. You’d botch it up and we’d get caught. But not this time, not now, not ever again! Just how much blood do you need? 32 times is enough, I won’t do it; I’ve had enough.”

“32 times or 132 times, what’s the difference? You’ll still do it, I know it and so do you, so quit wringing your hands and come on, they won’t be out there all night. What shall it be? Last time was a ballerina, wasn’t it?

"No, last time was that kid in the black robe and that stupid bleeding mask. . . ”

“See! You are thinking about it. Just cut the crap, and let’s get going. We’ve got a long way to go tonight.”

“This has got to stop sometime, you know. We can’t keep this up. Sooner or later, we’re going to get caught and spend the rest of our lives in prison or executed.”

“I have no intentions of going to prison. You’re the killer, I get to just stand there and enjoy it. Prison? Nah! I don’t think so.”

“You’d disappear and leave me to rot wouldn’t you? And then what? Who’s going to feed your hunger? You only exist because of me. You’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“Maybe. . . might be you’re right about that, Eddie, but that still doesn’t mean I have to go to prison. I come and go as I please, they can’t lock me up. Enough of this doom & gloom. It’s time!. The car keys are already in your pocket, now let’s get out of here and have some fun!”

“This will be absolutely the last time. I mean it.”

“Sure thing Eddie, whatever you say.”

The drive west to Leesburg wasn’t that long, but it was brutal driving into the sunset. Sunglasses didn’t help much and the visor wasn’t long enough to do much good either. At least the evening traffic wasn’t bad, so I made good time and pulled off the highway at the business exit and drove slowly into town. Long ago, I’d given up planning these little excursions, the randomness of the search added to the thrill of the hunt. A large shopping mall appeared on the left and I turned into the entrance road, looking for a spot close to one of the entrances.

“Are you coming?”

“Right behind you, Eddie, all the way. You don’t think I’d want to miss the chance to help you choose, do you?
This is maybe the best part. Have you decided yet?”

“All right, all right. Just try and keep your mouth shut for awhile, will you? I need to concentrate here.”

“Sure thing, Eddie, whatever you say. Only. . . “

“Only what? You going to chicken out now?”

”No, no, not at all, it’s just,. . what about that?”

As I turned, my eyes fell on a group of pre-teen girls, five in all, giggling and chattering, each dressed in their idea of a Goth costume; one of them, lagging behind the others, tries to hop along on one foot and fix her boot on the other.

“Hey, wait up you guys!” she calls, but they are too busy hurrying to get inside to notice and don’t hear her. She goes down on one knee to fix the laces on her boot and never sees my approach.

“That was too easy, Eddie. I barely got any thrill out of that at all.”

“Will you shut up! You keep an eye on her and don’t let her wriggle free from those bonds.”

It doesn’t take much time to prepare her. The soundproofed basement has been cleaned and ready for almost a year now after the last time, so it was just a matter of removing her clothes and stretching her out on the stainless steel table. They always try to struggle, but I‘ve found that one good punch to the sternum takes all the fight out of them and they calm down in a hurry. Then I can go on tying them to the corners of the table as they weep and try to catch their breath. The blindfold and gag aren’t really necessary, but it always looks good on the videotape. Maybe I should let this one watch what happens. I like that idea.

The camera is running as I pick up the scalpel, make three quick incisions and quickly tear a foot long piece of flesh from her back and feed the first of little Alicia into the grinder. She screams behind the gag, her eyes wide in horror as the pink flesh oozes through the holes.

“Trick or treat, baby?” I whisper in her ear.