Halloween in the Suburbs

Charlie Jenkins received repeated letters from the homeowner’s association regarding the state of his yard, about parking his car on the street, leaving his garbage can out—you name it. The complaints seemed limitless. Though he couldn’t put his finger on why, Charlie suspected some of the rules were fabricated just for him. 

Andy McQuiston, the head of the beautification committee, tried several times to have Charlie fined. Each time, Charlie gleefully gave him the proverbial middle finger. A quiet guy in his mid-thirties, Charlie lived alone. He was friendly, a good neighbor, and always willing to lend a hand when needed. Working nights as a nurse in a geriatric home, he often slept most of the day. 

The housewives of the neighborhood whispered about him: "He's so cute and so nice, how is it he doesn't have a girlfriend?! He's GOT to be gay." 

While he didn't care what the homeowners' association thought, Charlie cared about Halloween. He always gave out full-sized candy bars for the kids; he loved seeing what costumes they came up with every year, and he especially loved the decorating. 

His yard was full of howling ghosts hanging from trees. Zombies loomed in the Styrofoam graveyard. The tombstones had catchy phrases like "Here lies our beloved Randy—kicked the bucket from too much candy!" A black light and fog machine created a festive haze leading to the front door. 

The older kids loved it, but whenever one of the little ones got scared, Charlie would walk out to the street to meet them with a bowl of candy. "It's all just decorations, kiddo, nothing to be scared of!" he would say kindly. 

One year, he received a letter from the homeowner’s association asking him to "Refrain from decorating in an inappropriate manner and remove the decorations the morning after Halloween." 

That did it. Charlie got to work, deciding this year would be bigger than all the other years combined. He hung floating ghosts, uttering terrifying shrieks. Zombies dwelled behind the tombstones. He invited friends, neighbors, and co-workers, including a special guest to be his witch, who would wail from over a foggy cauldron full of candy positioned next to the graveyard. 

Charlie rose from his bed on Halloween morning, achy from the previous night’s work, but excited. He stretched, poured himself a cup of coffee, and headed into the yard to survey his masterpiece. He hadn’t stepped three feet onto the front lawn when Andy and his Bichon Frise shambled awkwardly up the street. 

"Shit," thought Charlie, "here it comes." 

"Did you get my letter?" Andy barked curtly as the Bichon yipped uncontrollably. Charlie knew the dog had belonged to Andy's ex-wife. Why he fought so hard to keep it, no one knew. 

"Yes, I got it," Charlie replied leisurely. 

Andy looked at him with contempt. "Are you going to keep it under control this year? Last year, it took you two days to take it all down." 

Charlie and Andy stared at each other in silence for ten long seconds. “What is this really about, Andy?” Charlie asked.

Andy ignored the question. "I just hope this year you're more courteous to your neighbors." Andy turned and dragged the fluffy white dog down the street. 

After this unpleasant exchange, Charlie drove to work to pick up his witch. 

Magda was a patient in the geriatric care facility and was as flamboyant as she was funny. They had grown close over the years; the stories of her youth as an actor in Hungary fascinated him. She had outlived her husband of fifty years as well as her only son. She “adopted” Charlie as her own and made it no secret that she wanted him to find a partner and make her a grandmother. "I'm not so sure that's gonna happen, Mags," he'd say. 

He arrived at the nursing home to find her in full regalia, complete with a pointy hat and a broom. A black tattered gown, green face paint, prosthetic warts, and a pointy nose made her the perfect witch for a kid’s imagination. 

As he helped her tiny frame gingerly into the car, she practiced her cackle and witchy script. She always knew how to make him laugh. 

The sun was beginning to set. "We'd better hurry, they're coming soon!" The look of anticipation on her face warmed Charlie's heart. 

The night was amazing. Charlie sat next to his charming, cackling witch, watching the children laugh as she handed out candy. Friends, family, and neighbors mingled in the yard, enjoying drinks and snacks. He had never had such a wonderful Halloween. A little boy dressed as a ninja hugged Charlie's leg. "The kids look forward to this every Halloween," said his mother, "thank you so much." 

Charlie was just about to tell her the pleasure was all his when he saw Andy stomping up the street. He looked furious. 

"I thought we talked about this. Now you disrespect your neighbors with the noise of this party?" he hissed, hate filling his face. This was clearly not really about a Halloween party. 

"I'll take it down first thing in the morning," Charlie said through gritted teeth, doing his best not to swear or raise his voice in front of the kids. "Why don't you join us, have a glass of wine?" 

Andy looked as if he might explode. "I don't want these kids coming to your house!” 

The yard fell silent, heavy with implication. Charlie felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. Tears choked in his throat. The ninja's mother gently put her hand on his shoulder. 

"YOU are a bad man," came an otherworldly voice behind him. "VEGED LESZ, MINT A BOTNAK!!" Magda shrieked. Her face set like stone as she pointed a bony finger at Andy. In that moment, she was truly a witch. 

Andy's face went pale, and he trembled where he stood as if he understood the old woman and was terrified by her affront.

"What did she say?” Charlie asked, confused. “Do you speak Hungarian?" 

"Of course I don't, you idiot! I have no idea what she said, nor do I care!" Andy’s defiant demeanor betrayed him as he walked briskly but unsteadily down the street, shaking his head and muttering to himself. 

His guests tenderly tried to cheer him up, but the accusation hung heavy over the celebration like a storm cloud. Charlie packed up early. He apologized to his friends, sending them home with leftovers. After turning off the fog machine and sound effects, he placed the cauldron full of candy next to his mailbox with a note: "Help yourself, happy Halloween!" 

He led Magda to the car, making sure she didn't trip over her costume. On the drive back home, his curiosity got the better of him. 

"What did you say to him back there?" he asked. Despite the somber mood, a smirk spread across his face. "Did you put an old Hungarian curse on him or something?" 

"I simply told him he would meet his end like a stick." 

"What does that mean?" Charlie asked. 

"It means his life will not end comfortably in his bed; I tell you that. He won't bother you anymore, lelkem." Charlie knew this was a term of endearment. She had once told him, "It means sweetie, or darling, like that." 

After tucking her in bed, Charlie left Magda and headed home. He sobbed in the car but couldn’t shake a feeling of uneasiness about her “curse.” He suspected something terrible was waiting for Andy McQuiston. 

He pulled into the driveway. It was late, and the kids were safe in their houses. He thought about Andy’s words earlier in the evening: “I don't want these kids coming to your house!”  

"Safe from the child molester at 608 Wabash," he thought, a sob catching in his throat.

Eventually, Charlie collected himself and got out of the car. It took him a second to register the feeling in the air. It was charged, as if lightning had just struck nearby, though the sky was clear. The neighborhood was dark and abandoned. No porch lights. No streetlamps. Charlie wondered if time had stopped while he was away.

His front yard began to breathe. Terrified, he stepped back against the car. Taking the tiniest step forward, he composed himself and leaned cautiously over the movement. It was a crack, pulsating with life and muffled screams. 

As the earth churned and crackled, the screams became louder. He stifled a yell as the crack widened and a thicket of dead branches thrust upward from the darkness, thin and crooked as kindling. Then one bent at the elbow. All he could do was watch, frozen with fear. 

Magda’s words echoed through his mind: "I simply told him he would meet his end like a stick." 

One arm was different from the others. It wore a plaid cuffed sleeve. Charlie stared for what seemed like an eternity as he tried to process what he was seeing. Then recognition cold-cocked him. The world spun around him, and Charlie lost consciousness. 

The next morning brought no answers. The yard was just as he left it before he took Magda home, decorations and all. There was no sign the living dead had come to claim Andy McQuiston in the night. 

Charlie stored the decorations in the attic, packed a suitcase, and checked into an extended stay hotel. He put his house on the market the first week of November. 

He considered filing a missing person's report for Andy, but what would he say? 

Magda passed peacefully in her sleep three months later. Charlie arranged her requested cremation and brought her ashes back to her sister in Hungary. He cried as her ashes swirled gracefully in the breeze over the field of wildflowers next to her childhood home. 

Before she passed away, Magda told him: "Don't let anyone filled with hate take your joy, lelkem. Don't let them ruin what you've built with love." 

When he returned from Hungary, Charlie decided to take the house off the market. The day he got back, Andy’s Bichon came trotting happily up to the house with twigs dangling from her fur and burrs stuck to her ears, yipping excitedly. He picked her up. “Where have you been hanging out?” She wiggled in his arms and licked his face. “Let’s go find you some food.” 

Back in the neighborhood, it seemed everyone had forgotten about the confrontation. No one seemed concerned that Andy McQuiston went missing after that night. "He probably moved out in the middle of the night," offered a neighbor around the corner. "His finances were shit; he was getting ready to foreclose on the house." 

"He probably disappeared to avoid the divorce proceedings; his ex-wife was about to take him to the cleaners,” another conjectured. “He kept that dog just to spite her, you know," one of the neighborhood mothers chimed in.  

Time passed. Charlie no longer feared mowing the yard or weeding the wildflower bed—both of which had grown back thicker than ever that spring. The wind sang him (and his fluffy Bichon, Lelkem) to sleep through his open windows on mild evenings. Eventually, those evenings became blessed with a partner with whom to share his home. They celebrated Halloween together with joy every year after.