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TRICK OR TREAT by robert rohloff
Saturday, October 22, 2016
Not rated by the Author.
This is a spooky story about some young adults having some fun.
TRICK OR TREAT
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Nine P.M. Halloween nights, the heaven above was gloomy black and the chill in the air caressed our faces with cold dead hands. My best friend, Joey, and I slipped through a large, ragged hole in a towering wrought iron barricade that surrounded the cemetery like a prison. Our goal, on this dreary night, was to raise the dead. We slowly walked over the graves to a path coiling east to west. We turned east, and two rabbits scattered when our gloomy shadows fell upon them. The wind suddenly exploded; dead leaves danced up and around the gravestone of Frank and Mary Butler whose epitaph read: Our loving parents died June 8,1969. May their souls rest in peace? We love you mom and dad.
Joey and I journeyed along the path between the rigid tombstones lined up on each side of us like Sentries. Dried leaves and twigs crackled beneath our nervous feet as we stepped with caution, ready to run at any moment.
We went forward and moved out into the shadows of the graveyard. Not too far away we found a cozy spot behind a big, dark grey marble tombstone with the name of Robert Hex engraved upon it. We sat down.
From a knapsack, Joey removed two white candles in skull shaped holders, lit them, and placed them onto a flat gravestone protruding from the cold ground.
I leaned over, and looked at the printing on the marker below the candles. “Julia Carver 1959 to 1965 may her soul rest in peace,” I whispered.
Just then, a chill ran through my body and my blood turned cold. My heart jumped in my chest from fright, and for one very long moment, I sat and stared into the flickering candles. I turned and looked at Joey. Our eyes met for a moment. His eyes shifted from side to side then came back to my face.
“Don’t worry,” Joey said calmly. “There are no dead people about. All their souls have departed from their bodies long ago.”
I nodded. “I know, but this place still gives me the creeps,” I rolled my eyes back to the headstone, and took a deep breath. “She was a child.”
“Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?” Joey asked.
I nodded.
Joey reached back into the knapsack and jerked out an Ouija board, and placed it on the gravestone over Julia’s name.
We wanted to make contact with Elvis Presley who died recently. Joey placed the board on his lap, and positioned his fingers carefully upon the mysterious message indicator. He instructed the board that we were huge fans of Elvis’s; and wanted him to appear and talk to us.
We concentrated upon the matter in question and avoided any other topic. After a few moments the plastic indicator commenced to move at a very slow rate, then, faster it rolled over the smooth board up to no.
“Why not?” Joey blurted out at the board.
We concentrated once again.
The indicator moved slowly around the board and finally rested on the letter H.
We concentrated even harder.
The indicator moved to E, and then rushed over to S.
“He’s!” I shouted aloud. Loud enough to wake up the dead.
We glanced at each other like ‘Wow’ it is really working.
Joey and I gazed at the board waiting for it to respond again. Then it happened, like a miracle, the mysterious message indicator started to move again. It crossed A-B-C stopping on D. Slowly it moved over to E.
“D-E,” Joey whispered, eyes wide.
Suddenly the indicator jerked straight up to the top of the board, and fell down like a shooting star onto the A.
“D-E-A,” Joey announced. His eyes glanced back at the headstone.
The plastic mysterious message indicator sat motionless for a moment. We inhaled, exhaled, and gazed at each other trying to figure out what the board was trying to tell us.
Then, like a snail the indicator started to crawl across the board, A, B, C, and D. It stopped.
Joey sharply glanced up. “He’s dead!” he whispered. “He’s dead!” he shouted. “What kind of stupid answer is that? We know he’s dead!”
I looked at Joey. "Don't be such a hound dog Joey. Sometimes dead is dead. No matter how much you wish it wasn't true .
Joey shook his head. "Elvis will always be alive as far as I am concerned."
Suddenly, from behind us came a hollow that sent a chill racing up my spine.
“What was that?” I asked.
Joey turned his head slowly. “Just the wind,” he replied. His eyes suddenly amplified.
I twisted around, and saw the image that Joey looked intently at and my heart went cold.
The wind gusted suddenly, and the figure disappeared.
“Elvis,” Joey muttered.
“It looked like him,” I whispered.
Joey leaped to his feet, ran over to where the shadowed image appeared, and vanished.
I jumped up and looked around, and then slowly, cautiously walked to the spot where
Joey disappeared. Suddenly, I heard laughter and a bright light shined on my face. I glanced down at the light. Joey and my brother Pete stood down in an open grave, giggling. “Funny, very funny,” I said, shaking my head.
Boom! Pain! Blackness!
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