Nightmare for a "Scaredy-Cat"

        

The morning sun peeks through the blinds illuminating the light green walls of my bedroom. The dust particles catch the light causing tiny shimmers of light in the air. I don’t want to get out of the warmth of my bed.  That means I have to begin my day, October 31st.  Halloween, me least favorite holiday of the year.

                From the kitchen down the hall, I hear my mom call me for breakfast.  I force my head down on the bed and sandwich myself between the bed and my pillow, dreading waking up.  Then I heard my stomach grumble and I realized I was starving, so I rolled my eyes and got out of bed with a moan.  “Why couldn’t it be Thanksgiving?” I thought “At least it’s acceptable to gain 20 pounds in a 12 hour period on that day.”

                I groggily stagger to the door gripping the doorknob and opening the door.

“RAHHHHHH” screamed my brother and sister in masks hop out of the bathroom, attempting to scare me.  I just stare them down with a cranky look on my face and give them a pat on the back for the nice attempt. I continue on to the kitchen, longing for breakfast.

“Good morning mom, what’s for breakfast?” I ask excitedly. 

“Your favorite, French toast!” she replies as she sets the glass plate in front of me.  I look down at my French toast and see what I guess is supposed to be a finger. 

“Really, you too?” I stab the finger with my fork and put it in my mouth.  “Its gummy body parts, I saw the bag of them when you came home from the grocery store.  Nice try.” 

“We will get you, don’t you worry.” My mom said with a devious smirk on her face.

                I roll my eyes and shove finger-free French toast into my mouth.  I have never liked Halloween, I hate being scared and I hate costumes and I hate the fact that it’s all about death and blood and gory stuff that I don’t care about.  Why can’t Halloween be more like Christmas? At least that holiday has a fun fat man in a red suit eating cookies and bringing kid’s presents.  That’s a good holiday.

                The rest of the day went by in a blur.  I went on like any other day.  That is until my family made me go trick or treating with them.  I complained and argued, no surprise there.  I used every excuse in the book. 

“I don’t feel good,” “it’s cold,” “I don’t have a costume.”

                Nothing worked, so I was walking around outside with my arms crossed, watching annoying kids dressed as princesses or ninjas, ring doorbell after doorbell begging for candy.  How lame is that? If you want candy, you can buy it yourself.  I hear my mom talk to me from a few feet ahead. 

“Okay Mikala, you've got the next house.  Go on, ring the doorbell or else you’re grounded.”

“Mom! That is totally not fair!”  I said angrily “You know I hate Halloween.”

“Too bad, go” She replied forcefully.  Of course, they picked the scariest house on the street.  This house scared every kid in the neighborhood.  It’s said to be owned by a vampire who sleeps during the day and only comes out of her house at night to haunt the neighbors.

                I walk up to the porch.  Spider webs blanket the corners of the walkway and claw marks indent the hard wooden door.  The rotten steps creak after every advancement made.  From the corner of my eye I spot two beating eyeballs with piercing green light nearly illuminating the porch.  The creature sprints across the welcome mat.  I flinch, of course, it’s a black cat that crossed my path.  Great, bad luck.  The mat in front of the door reads, “You’re not welcome.” Why have a welcome mat if nobody is welcome?  The thin windows on either side of the door have signs that say ‘no trespassing’ and ‘do not disturb, or else.’  Does my family want me to die? I finally decide to ring the doorbell.  As I do, I immediately regret it as I hear footsteps getting louder and louder as they make their way to the door.

                My heart is beating faster than a snare drum in a band.  I see the doorknob slowly turn and suddenly the creak door turns on its hinges gradually.  I see nothing inside, no furniture, or light, nothing.  It’s just darkness.  I debate running off the porch, as I do, I feel a wrinkly hand grab my ankle.  I belt out a terrified scream.  Long nails reach into my skin as I struggle to set myself free. 

                I tell myself to turn around and start fighting for myself but immediately after I do, the hands grip is loosened and I hear an evil laugh coming from the doorway.  I couldn’t believe it, it was my dad.  He had a glove with wrinkles and long nails on and he had all black clothing on.  It’s official, I absolutely HATE Halloween.