Halloween Haunts: The King of Halloween

By Mark Onspaugh

The Wolfman roared, his eyes glowing bright red, his massive yellowed fangs slick with saliva and blood.

My little brother Matty, who had been checking out a costume, jumped, the plastic Iron Man mask clattering to the floor of Target’s Halloween department.

The werewolf ripped his head off, revealing the laughing face of David Destler.

“Some Avenger you’d make! Bet you wet your Pampers!”

“Come on, David, give him a break,” I said. I was holding a zombie makeup pack and trying to figure how much that and the Iron Man costume would be with tax.

“Aw, he’s knows I’m kiddin’ him, don’t ya, little man?” David clapped Matty a little too hard on the back. I saw Matty wince but he smiled and nodded just the same.

David looked at my makeup kit and frowned. “I thought you were gonna buy a mask, Kittridge. Nobody does zombies anymore – it’s like little kids being clowns or cowboys.” He looked pointedly at my brother.

“I like doing my own monster makeup – I might be like Rick Baker someday.”

“Who?” David had lost interest, and now he was inspecting his werewolf mask to see how the eyes lit up.

The truth was, I had thought about a career in effects makeup, but figured most of it would be CGI or holograms by the time I was eighteen. I mean, that was seven years away, and technology was moving fast.

The real reason was Matty. He was only six and Halloween meant a lot to him. Little kids love that stuff, and Matty still believed in Santa Claus.

I had saved up money mowing lawns and doing yard work around the neighborhood over the summer, and I thought I could get Matty a cool costume and just rip up some old clothes and put stage blood on them for mine. I even knew how to make it with Karo syrup and food coloring, so my costume wouldn’t cost hardly anything.

David grabbed the package out of my hand and thrust a zombie mask at me.

“This is better,” he said.

It was pretty cool, the designer had sculpted an eye hanging out by a few strands and there were maggots crawling out of the eye hole. The whole thing was painted in garish grays and greens and there was some hair glued to the top of the head.

Pretty cool. And thirty bucks.

If I bought it, Matty would end up being a clown or a zombie, and he had his heart set on being Iron Man.

I knew my parents wouldn’t buy him the costume. They were “cutting back” because my dad’s job was looking iffy – some of his co-workers had already been laid off.

If they knew I was spending my yard money on a costume for Matty, they might be proud or they might insist I buy a new shirt for school or something.

How many years does a kid get to have Halloween?

I put the zombie mask aside, giving one more glance at that shining, drooping eyeball and latex maggots.

David shook his head.

I had known David Destler since kindergarten, and we used to be best friends. Then he had had a growth spurt and started picking on smaller kids. I had overheard my parents saying he got hit a lot at home. I felt sorry for him but didn’t like him being such a creep.

The trouble was, David hung out with some of the cooler guys, and I really wanted to be part of that crowd.

When you’re eleven, it’s hard to have cool friends and look after your little brother.

I bought Matty the Iron Man costume and the zombie makeup kit. It was nearly thirty-five bucks all together, which meant I could still buy a couple of comic books. Normally I’d want candy, too, but Halloween was just two days away and that was what prospectors called “the mother lode.”

We left Target and David followed after us, his ultra-rad werewolf mask safely stowed in a plastic bag.

The day was overcast and cool, and an errant breeze danced brown leaves down the street like the withered husks of dead bats.

“Hey, Kittridge, you goin’ to Box City after tricks or treats?”

“Box City” was what we called Mayfield Cemetery.

“Maybe,” I said. Then, seeing the stricken look on Matty’s face, I said, “I don’t know.”

“I’ll go if you wanna,” Matty said, not meaning a word of it.

“You can’t go, Matty,” David said, walking next to us. “The Halloween King will get you.”

Matty looked at him, skeptical but a little fearful.

David went on. “He’s about nine feet tall and has teeth that look like candy corn – only they’re really sharp and stained with the blood of little kids… kids like you.”

“That’s just an urban legend,” I countered. Looking at Matty I explained, “Made up B.S.”

“No way, bro – I heard it’s this ancient dude named Sam Haynes.”

I knew he meant Samhain. I also knew that wasn’t how it was pronounced, not even close.

“No such thing,” I said, making sure my brother saw how confident I was.

“Whatever, dude. Anyways, a bunch of us are going, and I heard Tricia’s coming.”

Tricia Ballard. She had olive skin and green eyes, and honey-colored hair that she wore in a ponytail. I walked behind her on the way home from school sometimes – always at a discreet distance – and that golden ponytail swaying and shining in the sun would have me mesmerized. A couple of times I had made her laugh, and those were victories I savored for days.

David punched me in the arm. “Stop daydreaming, lover boy – if you don’t show up some older kid is gonna get with her.”

I knew he was right, it was only a matter of time. I looked at Matty, and he tried to smile.

“S’okay, Robby, I can go with Mom and Dad, or maybe Jean.”

Jean was my older sister, and there was no way she’d take him trick or treating. And if Mom and Dad saw that costume, they’d make him take it back and he’d be a freakin’ clown again.

“I’m gonna take Matty trick or treating,” I said, “then drop him home and go to Box City.”

“Oh, yeah,” David Destler said, and howled like a wolf.

It was a pretty good howl, and we joined him as dead leaves swirled and capered around our feet.

# #

It was a good plan, but my parents did an end run on us by declaring that they were going to a party.

I didn’t even think people like my parents went to parties.

Jean was going to her own party, so I was to take Matty trick or treating and then come straight home by eight.

My mom took me aside. She was dressed like a sailor, wearing one of my dad’s old Navy uniforms. She looked pretty and goofy at the same time. She said, “Look, I know you probably wanted to hang out with your friends, but there are going to be some people at this party who might have an interest in hiring your dad. You understand, don’t you?”

I did, and said so.  She kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Thank you for buying Matty the costume – I’ll make it up to you.”

Every time I thought I was fooling my mom, she was wise to it. I don’t know how, I guess moms are just psychic or something.

My dad came down, dressed like a cowboy, wearing my old holster and hat, which was much too small. He looked pretty hilarious, and we all laughed.

Matty and I ate some McDonald’s Jean brought home, then we got ready to go out.

My makeup turned out pretty cool – not latex mask or Rick Baker cool, but I looked kinda dead and rotting. I used pieces of Kleenex soaked in flesh-colored latex for hanging strips of flesh, and it looked awesome.

We went up and down several streets, until Matty started to get tired.

We were only a couple of blocks from Box City, and I kept thinking about Tricia and her ponytail. I wondered what she dressed up as… I thought of a cat, like Catwoman with Tricia’s green eyes, and felt a little dizzy.

“Matty, would you mind if we went to Box City for just a little bit?”

My little brother, who could be such a pain, looked at me. In one hand he had a pillowcase loaded with candy, in the other was the Iron Man mask.

“You sure the King of Halloween is made up B.S.?”

“Definitely. David Destler is an idiot.”

That made him laugh.

We walked toward the cemetery. Most of the kids and their parents had gone home, though jack-o-lanterns still flickered and styrofoam tombstones wavered in the chill gusts that sent candy wrappers and one plastic skull mask skittering down the street ahead of us.

Usually, some guys like David would be trying to extort more candy from people, so many had turned off their porch lights, the universal kid signal that no more candy could be had at that home.

Of course, guys like David figured that was when the raw eggs and toilet paper came out.

Or spray paint and burning bags of dogshit if they were really hardcore.

I did see one guy leap over a split rail fence and disappear into the shadows. He was in a pretty rad goblin costume. I was hoping he’d try to scare us so I could compare notes, but he wasn’t there when we walked past.

Just as well, he might have given Matty a heart attack.

And Tricia was waiting… I hoped.

I saw them gathered near one of the crypts, spectral creatures laughing and flirting, some of the more adventurous drinking beer.

Mayfield Cemetery is surrounded by a low block wall, easy to climb over. I climbed over first and then helped Matty. I could tell he was both excited and nervous. After all, this was his first big kid party.

There wasn’t any music, no one had a car or what my parents called a “boom box.” Still, the laughter of girls was like a siren song, and it pulled me forward like I was Ulysses himself.

The area they had chosen was called the Garden of Reflection. At one time it featured a small pond surrounded by a circle of curved marble benches. But now the pond was filled in and the benches were gathered like a circle of covered wagons around a rose bush.

“Kittridge!” David Destler yelled, approaching with a definite list to starboard. He was wearing his mask like a hat, which made me think of Fred Flintstone in his Water Buffaloes lodge hat.

“Hey, David,” I said, scanning the group of about thirty kids for Tricia.

“‘Sup,” he said, clearly drunk. It was probably one beer, but certainly enough to earn him another beating. He bowed low to my brother. “Mr. Stark.”

I could see Matty liked that, and thought maybe there was a little of the old David still in there, after all.

I scanned the crowd again, and now I saw Tricia, deep in conversation with her friends Abby Moynahan and Sue Hayashi.

David nudged me. “Go to work, Romeo,” he said. “I can watch the Avenger, here.”

I shook my head. Matty was my responsibility.

Matty and I walked over to Tricia and the others. Tricia was dressed like Katniss from The Hunger Games. She looked amazing, so much so that I didn’t feel any disappointment at the absence of Catwoman.

I don’t remember what the other girls were wearing. The moon had come out, and it seemed to shine just on Tricia, like she was sent from Heaven or something.

My heart was thudding in my chest as I drew closer.

She saw me and waved, and the other girls looked us over.

“Hi, Robby!”

“Hi,” I said, hoping my voice would come out normal. It seemed to – so far so good.

“Who’s this?” Sue asked.

“This is my brother… ” I began, but Matty interrupted me.

“I’m Iron Man!” he declared, striking a heroic pose.

All three of the girls laughed, and Tricia actually applauded. She looked me up and down and said, “You look so ugly, Robby.”

My heart sank but then she grabbed one of my arms with both hands and leaned in and said, “I like it.”

She wasn’t drunk, just delirious from sugar and moonlight, and being at a party in Box City.

I wished then there was music, because I felt bold enough to ask her to dance, which was unheard of – courage always eluded me at school dances.

She looked at me, her eyes shining.

I kissed her. Not hard or long or anything, but definitely a kiss and definitely on the lips.

I thought my body would fly apart, or that I would take off and explode like some leftover firework from the 4th of July.

She put her arms around my neck and kissed me back.

Someone clapped, and someone whooped – probably David Destler – but I didn’t care.

“Seven minutes in Box City Heaven!” David yelled, and several people cheered.

I looked up, and the whole group was watching us. My face felt hot, and I was a little dizzy.

“What is ‘Seven Minutes in Box City Heaven’?” David’s buddy Ray Gomez asked theatrically.

“Every lucky couple gets seven minutes of privacy – in Creeper Crypt!”

‘Creeper Crypt’ was a family mausoleum that actually had ‘Cheever’ carved in marble over the door, but we had rechristened it, as probably every generation did.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Tricia whispered. “Not because of you…”

“It’s okay,” I whispered, “it’s chained shut.”

“So who’s first?” I asked, sure we wouldn’t actually have to go in.

“How about the lovebirds?” David asked, and everyone applauded and yelled their approval.

Someone produced a crowbar, and that’s when I got worried.

We got swept up in the group as they hurried to the mausoleum. I kept hoping a security guard or cop would chase us away, but the place was silent except for the giggles and murmurs of three dozen teens and pre-teens.

The moon bathed the marble building in a spectral light, making it more like luminescent moonstone. There were some ugly paint patches over graffiti that had been sprayed on the back and sides.

The front was protected by wrought iron gates that looked new. Obviously the living Cheevers took care of the place.

One of the bigger kids broke the padlock with practiced ease, and I wondered if he had been the vandal who had broken into John F. Kennedy Middle School’s lunch room and the principal’s office.

The door proved even easier to open and the yawning blackness of the interior was like a large, open mouth, waiting to devour us.

Someone handed me a flashlight. It was David Destler. “Time to shine, Romeo.”

I didn’t know what to do. I knew Tricia didn’t want to go in there, but all the cool kids were waiting on us. Should I use her as an excuse? Maybe my little brother?

She seemed to sense this and spoke up. “I’m not going in there – probably infested with black widows.”

“There’s no spiders in there,” one of the older kids insisted.

“Really? How do you know?” Tricia demanded.

“Hear that, Romeo?” David Destler asked, grinning. “Your fair maiden wants you to check for  creepy crawlers.” In that smile I saw everything I had ever disliked about David Destler.

“He stays with me,” Tricia insisted. “Besides, we have to keep an eye on Matty.” She winked at Matty, and he nodded.

Several kids made cracks about our junior Iron Man, and some just grumbled.

“Jesus,” groused the older guy, a kid named Kelsey. “I’ll check it out.”

Kelsey and Ray Gomez went in, mostly to impress girls, I think.

We waited, and then Kelsey said, “It’s just a room, dipshits, come…”

Then the screaming started.

I had never heard screams like that in my life, even in movies. It was like an animal being torn apart. I could tell everyone wanted to run, but we were all paralyzed. Tricia grabbed my left arm, Matty my left.

The screams stopped abruptly.

“Very funny, you guys,” David yelled into the darkness.

Something flew out of the crypt, almost hitting David who had to duck. It hit the ground wetly and rolled.

Kelsey’s head.

Several people screamed, including Tricia and me.

We all ran, and then we saw them.

Goblins, like the one I had seen earlier. They were perched on various tombstones. They were  watching us, silent and motionless.

They were ugly, gnarled things, with over-large heads, hands and feet, their fingers and toes ended in long, curved talons. Colored a deep and mottled gray, they had a ridge of stiff, blue hair running down their backs that terminated in long, rat-like tails.

Their eyes, huge and black, never blinked.

How did I ever think that was someone in a costume?

“It’s a gag,” one of the guys said, “a freakin’ reality show.”

He approached one and it regarded him without moving. We were almost convinced he was right when the thing lashed out and severed his head with one swift swipe.

We all ran then, and the things ran after us, never making a sound.

They were herding us, I realized later. Killing wasn’t all they were there for.

He stepped out of the trees then, regal and terrible.

The King of Halloween.

David had been right about one thing, he was at least eight feet tall, if not more. He was dressed in an outfit that looked like something out of Shakespeare, with a scarlet cape and a suit of black and gold.

His head was an enormous jack-o-lantern, and the fire within it blazed from yellow to green to red and back again.

Somehow, most of the kids managed to escape. I realized later the goblins let them go.

It was just David, Tricia, Matty and me.

Everyone seemed to be waiting.

Then David picked Matty up and tossed him toward the Halloween King.

I screamed, and David ran.

None of the things pursued him.

Tricia tugged on me. “Let’s go,” she pleaded.

“You go,” I said, scared shitless but hoping I sounded like a movie hero.

She turned, but the things closed in. Tricia whimpered, and Matty was crying – he looked like a toddler, small and defenseless before the Halloween King.

I stepped toward the Halloween King, and fell to my knees.

“Oh great Samhain,” I said, hoping I pronounced it right, “please forgive us for trespassing in your dark domain, and grant us mercy.”

I hoped it didn’t sound too “churchy” for him. He stared at me, his pumpkin face blazing, then removed it.

His face and hands were almost skeletal, with chalk white skin stretched tight over bone. His face was human-like, but his teeth were like the blade of an ivory saw, and his eyes blazed those hellish colors of yellow, green, red and back again. I could see those lights underneath the curves and planes of his skull.

Like a living jack-o-lantern.

He motioned to Matty at his feet, and Tricia at my side.

Choose.

# #

It has been many years now, and Tricia is long since dead and buried. I know from watching her from time to time that she lived a full life, and was happy.

It may sound stupid to you, but I was told you never hit a girl, so how could I condemn the girl I loved to that fate?

And Matty? I couldn’t… wouldn’t leave him alone, ever.

We serve the Halloween King, now, bringing terror and dread when the barrier between the living and the dead grows thin.

His name isn’t Samhain, and he doesn’t have candy corn teeth.

But he let me choose, on the condition that I go too, and for that I am grateful.

I still look after my little brother, though neither of us is really human, anymore.

And though it has been a long, long time, there are things I still remember from the old days.

One is the look on Matty’s face when I told him I would buy the Iron Man costume.

Another is the look on David Destler’s face when we came to visit him in college many years later. I let my little brother kill him slow, something Matty still chatters on about.

But the best is the feel of Tricia’s lips on mine, her arms warm around my neck, her perfume filling my mind with desire and terror and wonder.

Late at night, when we are at our revels and the mortals shriek and cry, I think of that moment, and smile.

TODAY’S GIVEAWAY: Mark is offering one copy of Kua’Mau: Kaiju Mother of Wrath. Enter for the prize by posting in the comments section. Winners will be chosen at random and notified by e-mail. You may enter once for each giveaway, and all entrants may be considered for other giveaways if they don’t win on the day they post. You may also enter by e-mailing membership@horror.org and putting HH CONTEST ENTRY in the header.

MARK ONSPAUGH is a California native and the author of over fifty published short stories.  Mark has also written for film and television, including the script KILL KATIE MALONE. His first novel THE FACELESS ONE was one of the first books published by Penguin Random House under their new Hydra imprint. A sequel to THE FACELESS ONE will be coming soon from Hydra. His kaiju novel KUA’MAU, KAIJU MOTHER OF WRATH was published by Severed Press, as was his zombie novel THE THETIS PLAGUE. Mark has had three collections published: CHRISTMAS GHOST STORIES, DARK VALENTINES and TALES FROM TOMORROW. Mark lives in Morro Bay, CA with his wife, Dr. Tobey Crockett, and two tricksters who have taken the form of cats.

The Spider Islands. A mysterious ship has completed a treacherous journey to this hidden island chain. Their mission: to capture the legendary monster, Kua’Mau. Thinking they are successful, they sail back to the United States, where the terrifying creature will be displayed at a new luxury casino in Las Vegas. But the crew has made a horrible mistake – they did not trap Kua’Mau, they took her offspring. Now hot on their heels comes a living nightmare, a two hundred foot, one hundred ton tentacled horror, Kua’Mau, Kaiju Mother of Wrath, who will stop at nothing to safeguard her young. As she tears across California heading towards Vegas, she leaves a monumental body-count in her wake, and not even the U. S. military or private black ops can stop this city-crushing, havoc-wreaking monstrous mother of all Kaiju as she seeks her revenge.