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Halloween Writting Contest Entry 14

The following story was submitted as an entry in The Wanderer second annual Halloween Writing Contest.
The winner will be announced in the October 30, 2008 edition.
Stories will be posted on-line as they are available in print.

Late Halloween Night

It was late on Halloween night. Children of all ages skipped through the streets wanting more and more candy from each house they approached. As you passed, you would think their survival was based solely on the sugary sweet.

"Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear!" filled the air echoing through the treetops, as did the fog. The air became muggy and the fog now lay down by the trick-or-treaters' feet, but of course no one had noticed, which on their part was the wrong thing to do.

The fog was a warning, a warning no one noticed and to tell you the truth, no one really cared about. This got her angry, for she had taken the time to warn the younger citizens running through the town of her soon unwelcome appearance. She paced back and forth, back and forth, and then stopped, in front of her lay a large pot rusted from years of aging. Cobwebs spun from handle to handle filled with dead carcasses of the eight-legged creature's last victims dangling in what looked like midair.

The woman picked up a faster speed toward her black (and rusted) cauldron. As she peered over her long, boney fingers curled over the edges. All of a sudden, a green liquid started forming in the bottom until the pot was completely filled, and a green foggy mist flowed over onto the wooden floorboards.

In the center of the old little village was a cemetery, not only for humans but for animal as well. The ground began to shake until a large crack split between one of the gravesites. A large arm sprouted through the earth with what looks like a hoof at the end of the arm of bone. As it struggled, a whole host of other hooved creatures came from below, until it was finally out of its aging grave.

A horse's boney figure stood extremely tall, his eyes and hooves inflamed with fire. This was death, the leader and protector of his pack. About ten other of the deadly steeds stood over their graves and began to get acne.

Death made a motion with his "skull" to follow and all raced to her house. Once they reached the steps of the old cabin, smiling from ear to ear. "Good day my deathly steeds, how was your rest?" The horses began to dance with excitement. "Now you know what I want and death you know what to do, now go!" the ghastly ghoul said, pointing her boney finger towards the village filled with happy-go-lucky children.

The horses stampeded to the village and once the kids were in view, "the death clan" split up stealing candy from each child and adult. Once no one in the street had any candy left for her, the horses took their ghostly form disappearing into the homes in search of their destination. She stayed in the cabin, watching as the display of evil went down. She waved her hands over the cauldron and giggled over her tooth-rotting treasure that would soon be hers!