Halloween Writting Contest Entry
The following story was submitted as an entry in The Wanderer's fourth annual Halloween Writing Contest.
"Nameless" by Joshua Lerman
Five kids sat cross-legged around a crackling campfire, taking advantage of the cool fall weather. The smell of burning wood filled the air. A small boy got up, declaring loudly that he had a scary Halloween story to tell. Everyone begged him to tell it.
"Every Halloween exactly at midnight" the boy began, "a man kills someone who hears this story."
"Why," a curious yet frightened child interrupted.
"I don't know," the boy replied, "maybe he thinks it's fun".
"What's his name?" someone else blurted.
"No one knows. Now will you let me finish? Some say he has incredible magical powers; others believe he's the devil himself. No one knows why he does what he does, or how he can do it so well. But the rumors are that every Halloween, the man wears a red suit. He's so quiet he can sneak right up to you."
"This story isn't true... I have to go".
"Me too," another kid said. "See you tomorrow."
"Wait! I haven't finished my story!" the boy said. But his friends were gone. He stood up and brushed himself off.
The boy walked home through the trees and onto the long dirt road to his house. Suddenly, a wisp of air streamed by him, making him shiver. The boy ignored it but he could swear he heard the wind mumbling lightly, "See you at midnight".
His home was a small cozy log cabin at the end of a quiet road. Inside, the boy sat on a soft warm couch by his fireplace, looking out the window in hopes of seeing a trick-or-treater, still wondering about what he swore the wind had said.
A heavy footstep hit the pavement outside.
"What was that?" the boy said.
A burst of lightning illuminated the foggy dark sky. As he watched the lightning touch the ground, a flash of red and black blinked in the half-light of the storm.
In the rain stood a tall man with short, jet-black hair gelled firmly to his head. Over a black button-down shirt and long black tie, he wore a bright red suit jacket and pants. In his chest pocket was a black rose at the peak of its bud. Dark expressionless eyes sat in the man's firm knowing face. He turned to the window where the boy sat and winked, smiling insanely.
The door to the little cabin swung open, creaking angrily. As if the door was a light switch, the electricity shuttered, then went out. The fire flickered and died like it knew what was about to happen.
Loud footsteps struck the wooden floor. The boy began to cry, too scared to breathe. "Where is he?" he murmured to himself. A deep calm voice echoed behind him. "I'm right here."
The horrified child turned his head. In the light of the moon shining through the window, the man's dark eyes went wild. An insane twitch consumed the man's smiling face. The boy screamed.
The man walked back down the dirt road. A bloody knife rested in his palm.