Trick or Treat

Departure

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 27 Comments

I was well prepared for Halloween, bowl full of fun size chocolate bars and assorted deadly sugars. Hopefully there would be some mini packs of Maltesers left over for me. The plastic pumpkin was in the front window, the red lantern in the porch and a spider hanging over the front door. I was expecting the angels from next door, the little devils across the road and assorted unknown children from round the corner. What I had not planned for was being a ghost myself, giving some poor little kids the shock of their lives.

Of course I did not know at the time what had happened, turns out ‘at least she didn’t know anything about it’ is an apt phrase. Anyway, fast forward ten minutes or perhaps ten eons and I’m in a consulting room.

‘Hmm, so you are a writer, excellent, especially as you enjoy writing about ordinary people who find themselves in extraordinary or terrifying situations. We would love you to work for us.’

I did not recall being invited for an interview or seeking out agents and publishers. As an Indie Author I knew no one was interested in my writing, these were scammers after my money.

‘You used A I to scrape up my website, you can’t fool me.’

‘We are A I – Angels in Infinity’

‘Catchy title, I’ll look you up on line when I get home. Thanks for the meeting, but I’ll love you and leave you now.’

‘Hopefully you will grow to love us, but leaving is not an option.’

I stood up to leave, feeling a bit odd, but trying to look dignified as I looked around to see where the door was.

‘Perhaps you could do the courtesy of showing me the way out as I’m not sure which way I came in.’

‘That is entirely normal for someone who has just died suddenly.’

‘Ha ha, very funny, is that your Halloween joke?’

‘You could put it that way. Thanks to CCTV above your front door we can show you your demise. As a writer with a dark sense of humour you will find it most amusing.’

A view of my front garden in semi darkness appeared behind three small figures in horrid masks, cloaks and rubber hands. Then they were eclipsed by a huge shape, in my colourful leisure clothes, falling on top of them. The mound of my clothes remained motionless as half a dozen little hands and feet struggled to escape. What had I just seen, was this an elaborate joke? I looked down to see what I was wearing, but my body seemed to have disappeared. I decided I should pay closer attention to what they were saying and observe their appearance, so I could write about this experience in my blog… then it dawned on me…

‘Umm, am I really dead?’

‘How much proof do you need? Yes you are.’

‘What about my blog?’

‘You won’t have time for that, there’s work to be done, no eternal rest for you and quite frankly you would be bored, not many opt for that. Earth’s population is expanding so rapidly we need all our writers working at full pelt creating new characters.’

I could not understand what they meant till they took me to the writers’ room where I recognised a few of my favourite authors and a whole host of Indie Authors. Several volunteered to show me the ropes, writers of every kind of fiction from gentle children’s stories and uplifting romance to the darkest of crime and horror. Now it was so clear, so obvious why some people had happy lives and good health, while others endured unending misery. It depended who had written your life. I turned to my escorting angels.

‘If I accept this job can I just create happy lives?’

‘No, too boring we need you to create diverse lives with a touch of horror and evil, real human life.’

I asked about the children at my door, if they were alright.

‘Just a few bruises and they will feel guilty for the rest of their lives as they think they frightened you to death, even though it was our fault not theirs.’

‘What did I die of, I was healthy.’

‘Yes that was the fun part, we get to choose the endings of everyone.’

The Dark Web

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 1 Comment

Today I have a guest who has just started blogging on the dark web. Because of his situation he prefers to remain annonymous, but is looking forward to posting about the problems faced by minority groups. As an appropriate introduction he describes a typical experience on his favourite night of the year.

Treat or Trick

Time for my annual visit home; weather’s taken a cold turn, that’s good, everyone’s wrapped up so I don’t look out of place. Busy down my road. Couple of new families moved in, children whizzing around on wheels of various sorts, new people at number 53 and here we are. Oh, new front door, hmm, doesn’t really suit the lovely old house. No car parked out the front, hope they are not all out. Big poster by the front door… NO TRICK OR TREATERS   That’s a bit mean, too stingy to buy a few sweets. I’ll take it down.

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There’s nobody at home anyway; everything locked up as if they had gone on holiday. Still, after the reception I got last year perhaps they have decided to avoid me.

Getting dark, shouldn’t be long till the Trick and Treaters come round, five groups last year. The final group were hardly children, all ghastly teenagers, reckon they were dared to come by their younger siblings. Hang on, I can hear the front door being unlocked, it’s Rory, must have decided not to go away with his parents and sisters.

‘Hi Rory, you’ve grown since last year.’

That’s strange, he’s rushed back out again. All on my own, well I’m used to that. At least I can watch what I like on television. All these channels they have now, you’d think there would be something on worth watching.

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There goes the doorbell, visitors at last, I’ll have a peek out the window. Little kids, rubbish costumes, anxious parent hovering on the pavement. Right, time to open the front door, slowly, keep them in suspense. They are very sweet, I’ll lower my hood gently.

‘Hello children, treat or TRICK… no don’t run away.’

That was fun, pity they didn’t stay, but hopefully the new families will be out and about. I can see a few strangely attired short people across the road. Here we go, they’re coming up the driveway. No need for them to ring the doorbell…

‘Good Evening, you gave me quite a fright, are you ghosts or ghouls… hey, come back, you’ve dropped your bucket with all the money.’

This is boring, no callers for half an hour … oh at last. Peep out of the window, let them see the curtain moving, their costumes are brilliant… they’re ringing the door bell again.

‘Hello Vampires, I’ve got some nice fresh blood for you… don’t go next door yet, you haven’t shown me your trick…’

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Blue lights flashing and sirens, must be something going on outside, might as well have a look. Police officer coming up the path, close the door pronto. Ringing and knocking.

Can you open the door please Sir?

Me a Sir, that’s a laugh.

‘I don’t open the door to strangers, especially at night.’

I’m a police officer, can I just have a word?

‘About what, haven’t you any criminals to arrest?’

We had a suspected on going burglary call from neighbours, concerned because the owners of the house are away. If you could open the door so we can confirm your identity.

Better open the door, perhaps he is a Trick or Treater.

Can I have your name and date of birth Sir… umm perhaps it would be easier to talk if you uncovered your face.

‘I have a medical condition, I need to keep covered up.’

We’ll need a doctor to confirm that at the station, we’ll need proper ID.

He’s whispering into his radio now, calling for back up, possible terrorist situation!

Now, if I could have your name, address and date of birth.

‘Certainly, Anthony John Worsley, 29th February, 1873. Now constable, it really is time I was leaving, I need to go and get a good year’s sleep.’