TRICK OR TREAT

Joan Shepherd

Matt was in his room on the second floor of the house and it was night, Halloween night. Why was he in his room instead of outside with the other kids? He wondered that too. Something had happened downstairs and his parents got very upset and started arguing, pushing one another around when his dad suddenly was aware Matt was watching them from the hall.

"Go to your room!" Dad shouted and started pushing Matt up the stairs, into his room, and adding quickly, "l'm going to lock the door. You will be all right. I have to go settle something with your mother."

Matt was hurt. This had happened many times before. Why did they have to lock the door to his room? Maybe they knew he hated their frequent fighting and in fact, hated them. But what could he do? He was a thin, 9 years old and physically unable to stop their fights. He had tried yelling and once, even got to the phone and called 911 !  That really made them mad and that's probably why they locked the door to his room.

There wasn't much to do in his bedroom, no TV and he didn't feel like doing homework. He wished he had a costume and was outside with the other kids, trick or treating and getting some candy. He opened the window easily and decided it was too far up to jump out but at least he could watch the action below. Kids were laughing, some adults staying behind while doors opened and candy or something was given out. Hum. Fat chance his dad would ever go with him to celebrate Halloween. Some candy would be good, but not those orange and yellow candies shaped like a kernel of corn. For some reason, he hated those. What he really liked were those small candy bars that could be consumed in 2 bites. He felt even worse as he saw kids eating some of their candy, tossing wrappers aside without concern. He would be punished if he did that.

A girl about his size walked alone down the street in a witch costume, Did he know her? Hard to tell with her get-up. Black of course, tall hat with a kind of sheer veil flowing down her back. A short broom was held in her hand along with a paper sack. "Hey, Margie", he shouted from the window, thinking now that he did recognize her from school. She didn't respond.

A group of three kids, their costumes disguising whether boys or girls, were good representatives of being a clown, cowboy, and a ghost. Coming to his own house, he listened as they rang the bell but his folks didn't answer the door. He could hear their voices, still full of anger. How he hated being in this house. He wished he could live somewhere else with different parents. Or even live alone in the woods, making a shelter and eating berries and catching fish to cook over a bon fire. Shoot. That will never happen, just let me dress up in something and get outside with the others and I wouldn't even complain if I got an apple instead of a little Babe Ruth bar.

Three realistically costumed witches then walked by, older girls, probably teen agers. "You're looking good!" he shouted, "Fly up to my room and take me away." They turned, looked up and waved at him. Getting more annoyed he started pounding on the door. Nothing happened. He was kind of hungry, too. He didn't know how he felt except angry. How could he get out of there?

The Halloweeners had mostly gone and his elbows were tired of leaning on the window sill so he moved to the bed, laying on top of the covers, and dozed between thoughts, when he heard a commotion at the window. A tall black hat was thrown inside, its veil spread out on the floor. He sat up, staring, as a face appeared in the window. "Come help me", a struggling voice sounded, while shoulders and arms protruded from the window. "My broom is about to fall."

Matt hesitated, confused with this intrusion but fascinated. The witch made her entrance with his help and the broom was safely held between her legs. "My friends will be here in a moment", a kind of scratchy voice came from a wrinkled face,"'We got the message of your troubles and came to help." This ended with another hat thrown in the window, then a broom, and finally a torso easily worked itself inside.

"Hi, Matt are you OK?" What's going on?" she questioned. Then a third hat was tossed into the room, but this witch was heavier and needed her fellow witches to help her make the move. And then, without any involvement whatsoever, a broom came flying through the window. "Thanks, my pet.", said the last arrival to her broom.  And to Matt, "l've trained it well as I've had it a long time. You will love having a ride on her." 

" What is going on?", Matt asked again. 

"Our three nieces heard you call to them a while ago and using their celestial phones; called home and told us to come get you. We could hear terrible commotion downstairs so didn't bother them. But we have a nice place for you and a delightful ride getting there."

The first witch interrupted saying they had to hurry. "You don't need to bring anything, Matt. I am going to lead the pack. You will ride with Matilda and Ophelia will cover us from the back. My name is Samantha but you will know us well, soon enough. Now let's go!"

The witches put on their hats, rearranged their veils, grabbed their brooms and lined up at the window. "Come on, Matt, jump on board!" Matilda smiled. Matt wondered if he should ride side-saddle or straddle the broom. He decided to straddle so he could hang onto    Matilda, but grabbed a pillow to put on the broom before he jumped on,

Ducking their heads, hat first, the trio left through the window one by one.

It was too bad everyone had gone and didn't witness this spectacular scene. But they probably wouldn't believe what they saw, anyway. Three witches riding their brooms in  the darkened sky, the moon behind them and ... what is that? It looks like two people on the middle broom. Where are they going?

EPILOG:  Matt never did go back home. He became indoctrinated into being a Warlock and found life much more enjoyable in the conclave of witchdom. But once in awhile, he would fly by his old house and smile, remembering the night of Trick or Treat when he got his treat for sure.

2012