I always liked autumn the best of all the other seasons. It came with cool, crisp air and the beautiful, crunchy painting the yellow and red of the fallen leafs left on the pavement. Moreover, of course, it meant Halloween, the absolute finest day of any of the holidays … except for maybe Christmas.
Carved pumpkins that show anyone can be a modern day Picasso, orange lights, inflated mummies, and discarded candy wrappers. I was so looking forward to this year because it would be the first time I would old enough, in my twelve years of existence, to venture on my own without the chilled, firm hand of my mother to guide me. I was a kid on a mission. I could roam the hills and pop out from behind trees to terrorize the little kids with my ghastly masked face. I could go door to door and load my pillowcase with the sugary sweetness that would surely give me nasty cavities that I would believe to be well earned. I could… I could… well, I could do anything, be anything, go anywhere my imagination would take me.
The morning of October 31 fell upon me with a bright, shining sun and a slight frost on the lawn. School could not drag on any longer than it did, even with the Halloween parties and the school parade presenting the many Batmans, Supermans, witches, ghosts, and every generic occupation displayed in flimsy badges and plastic tools. I could feel a ripple of excitement giving me goose bumps when the bell rang and I ran to the long yellow and black buses waiting at the curb to take all of us eager children to home and the beginning of our nightly journey.
I ran in the house, first one off the bus, and yelled for my costume. My mother, shaking her head and warning that trick ‘or’ treating did not start for a couple more hours, brought me my sleek black robes and ghoulish mask splattered with painted blood. We had bought it a week before. I had known it was the one for me as soon as I saw it and a clean break away from my superhero days.
I paced around the house, waiting anxiously, until my mother had my little brother ready in his stroller to go and collect candy. Why were parents so slow? Did she not see how monumental this was for me?
At last she was bundled up and ready to go. We headed out the door together, my mother turning down one direction along the sidewalk, me turning down the other. I was free! Where should I begin? I headed over to the wooded area between our street and the next to wait out the younger children so I could give them quite the fright. I picked a spot behind a huge oak that could hide me without as much as a hint of me in sight. I waited several moments, my anticipation growing to finally be the one that scared instead of being scared.
I heard a rustling of the colorful leafs and prepared to jump out with my well-practiced howl. There came another step and BAM! I yelled at… nothing. There was no one there. Then another sound came from behind me and I whirled around to find just air and trees.
I stood there confused, with the beginnings of a quiver in my stomach. I told myself it was probably just the wind and went to hide by my oak again when someone jumped out from behind it and screamed. I ran away so fast that it was not until later that I realized whoever it had been was laughing at my back.
I ran in the direction my mother had gone and found her just turning down another street, a substantial amount of candy already in my brother’s bag. I took the hand that did not seem so chilled now as it seemed secure. Next year, I would be the one to scare instead of being scared. Next year was definitely my year. My mom probably missed me anyway. At least that is what I tell myself. Now, where was my candy?