Trick or Treat

There are a few days every year
That, on the face of it, appear
To me to be invented for
The benefit of children.  Or
Why else would we have Christmas Day
And all those brand new toys for play?
Or Easter Sunday when, in case
You weren’t able to fill your face
With chocolate bars enough throughout
The year before, there’s little doubt
You’ll gobble down a baker’s dozen’s
Worth of Easter eggs (who doesn’t?).

But if you ask me I believe
From New Year’s Day to New Year’s Eve
And all the days and dates between
There’s no day quite like Halloween.
On that day, when the sun goes down
And darkness falls, in every town
The strangest sorts of sight emerge
And sinisterly swell and surge
In dedicated droves through your
Own neighbourhood to your front door.

But they’re not there to steal your soul:
They want the sweets inside that bowl
Inside your door - and it could be
The Wolfman waiting there; maybe
The Grim Reaper who rang your bell;
The devil from the depths of hell;
Or Dracula; Or Frankenstein
To send a shiver up your spine.
But fear not - they needn’t stay.
Some sweets will send them on their way.

It seems to me it’s almost funny
Santa or the Easter Bunny
Have to show up any other
Day for there to be another
Reason to be pleased as punch:
You get your breakfast, then your lunch,
Your dinner, then put on a sheet
And strangers give you sweets to eat.

Whoever, and I really mean this,
Thought of it must be a genius.
There’s no beating all that eating
Sweets you get from trick-or-treating.




Before you get the wong idea
I wouldn’t simply volunteer
Halloween as being so a-
-mazing just ’cause kids can go-a
-grazing, taking sweets from strangers
Not imagining the dangers
That can lie in store should you
Bite into more than you can chew.

The part of it that makes me feel
This day alone has such appeal
Is not a lot of people know
That to this very day although
This day’s become synonymous
With candy every one of us
Should stay indoors and say a prayer
For evil’s on the loose out there.

Or were you really that naïve
To nonchalantly misconceive
And misinterpret Halloween
As harmless fun?  If so you’ve been
Plain lucky so far, honestly,
I kid you not - take it from me -
That in the very dead of night
On any Halloween you might
End up a victim of the foul
Accursed creatures on the prowl.

On this night, and this night alone,
From worlds uncharted, lands unknown,
A thousand spirits flood the land
In ways you wouldn’t understand
To terrorise and terrify
You, mesmerise and scarify.
The dead become undead and rise
From out their graves to demonise
And ghosts and goblins, ghouls galore
Are gallivanting by the score.

It’s only fair that I prepare you
For a story that will scare you
And, on that note, here’s a sober
Warning for you.  Last October
Four friends, all fifteen years old,
Put on their coats and braced the cold
And met where they’d arranged to meet
That afternoon to trick or treat.



But neither Paul nor Jonathon
Had any sort of costume on.
The same for Gary and for Steven:
None had made an effort.  Even
So, and never mind the fact
They ought to know enough to act
Their age (it’s really a routine
For children younger than fifteen)
There’s no way they weren’t going out
With all of those free sweets about.

So out they went, this fiendish four,
For every household, door to door,
And knocked on each or rang the bell,
Behaving themselves very well
Like decent youngsters, standing neatly
In a line and smiling sweetly
So whoever answered would
Assume the four of them were good.

But that would be the worst mistake
That anyone could ever make.
This wasn’t child’s play: if perchance a
Miserly adult should answer
And, quite rightly, plain refuse
To be a victim of this ruse
They’d soon find they had cause to worry
And be oh so very sorry.

Though nice boys they appeared to be
This wasn’t the reality.
All four were well-known trouble-makers,
Uncontrollable lawbreakers,
Certain to end up in jail
(And much less certain to make bail).
That being said, it didn’t pay
To tell these kids to go away.

Paul had packs of bottle rockets
Stuffed inside his jacket pockets
And a few more in his socks
To fire through every letterbox
Of every household he’d been told:
‘You shouldn’t be here - you’re too old!’

And Jonathon just as prepared
To turn on anyone who dared
Tell him the same - he had a crate
Of eggs well past their sell-by-date,
Each one as rotten as this boy
Who threw them with unbridled joy
At every house where anyone
Said: ‘You don’t have a costume on.’



Steven, even by this standard,
Since his infancy was branded
Dastardly, and on his person
Carried something so much worse than
Fireworks and rotten eggs
For by his side, next to his legs,
He had a giant super soaker
Water pistol.  You may joke a-
-Bout it.  Then again you oughta
Know - it wasn’t filled with water.

And that’s not forgetting Gary
Who could barely even carry
All the horrors in his bag
From hazardous to harmless gag:
Five toilet rolls; a tube of glue;
Assorted crepy crawlies too;
A pellet gun, a tin of paint,
And precious little self-restraint.

Four anarchic juveniles
With earnest eyes and angels’ smiles
And bad intentions driving them
To inconceivable mayhem.
And neither did it matter what
They weren’t given, or what they got.
Without an ounce or hint of shame
They treated everyone the same.
Just rotten devils on the make
All leaving chaos in their wake.

And even younger children dressed
Up properly were promptly pressed
And patted down and firmly frisked
For all their sweets.  None of them risked
A puffy eye or bloody nose
Or worse besides.  And so it goes
That anyone they saw departed
Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,
For their homes without one sweet
Or any sort of treat to eat.

Before you start to shed a tear
I daresay you’ll be pleased to hear
This was the final Halloween
This evil gang were to be seen,
And why they were not seen again
Nobody knew or could explain.



But I can - and I’ll tell you how
This happy mishap happened.  Now
While on their travels though they found
Their way to every house around
There still was one place on the block
No boy or girl would ever knock.
And not because to get there you
Would have to walk a mile or two
Along a creepy path beset
By trees that make you quite forget
Yourself for fear of what you’ll find
And long for what you left behind.

They’d heard the stories:  Steve and Paul
And Jonathon and Gary all
Knew kids too numerous to name
Had disappeared, and what became
Of them remained a mystery.
They up and vanished - history.
The only real connecton being
Each time someone somehow seeing
All these children somewhere near
This house before they disappeared.
(The town police gave this a thought:
Two officers went to report
Any unusual occurrence
And give people reassurance,
Proving a disaster when
They both were never seen again).

Young Steven was the instigator
By exclaiming loudly: ‘Wait a
Minute - we should really see,
That is if any of you three
Are brave enough, what really lurks
In that old mansion.  If it works
Out we might end up getting more
Sweets than we ever bargained for,
And if it doesn’t we can still
Throw everything we’ve got until
There’s nothing left to throw and we’re
All satisfied our work’s done here.’

But this bravado wasn’t shared
By all - the other three were scared
To death but weren’t about to show it
Or let one another know it:

‘Great idea,’ ‘Wicked plan,’
‘Nice one Stevie, you’re the man.’



And off they set, making no mention
Of, though paying close attention
To, the eerie groans and creaking
Like the trees themselves were speaking.
Neither could they see each other
As the fog and darkness smothered
Any light and scant respite
Provided by the pale moonlight.

And as they grimly marched they felt
A certainty that something dwelt
There in the dark, anticipating,
Salivating, watching, waiting.

And as the house grew large and loomed
Above them thunder clapped and boomed
And lightning ripped across the sky
In sheets, as if to notify
Them these were not the sorts of places
Four young boys should show their faces.

This was not a good beginning,
What with how the house was grinning
At them: two windows for eyes
That seemed to further emphasise
The row below, like pointed teeth
On each side of the door beneath.
Two gargoyles, heavy-set and thick
Like something from a horror flick,
Made all four children stare and stop
In fear.  The creatures perched atop
Above the door looked back
And even on this near pitch-black
October evening in each head
The eyes were blazing crimson red.

No longer were the boys so bold:
Their inner fears had taken hold,
But pride, they say, precedes a fall
So, though the rest were silent, Paul
Said loudly, in his toughest voice:

‘Well now we’re here we’ve got no choice
But to go in there.  What’s the worst
That can happen…who’s going first?’

And what did they say?  This unlawful
Inconsiderate and awful
Foursome?  Not a single word
Was spoken.  Not a sound was heard.

Until, in an almighty din
That made them jump clean out their skin,
The massive door swung open wide
Revealing nothing more inside
Than darkened hallway, empty space,
But no-one standing any place.

The boys’ eyes moved from left to right
Erratically, as if they might
Learn or discern some information
Or some kind of explanation
From each other.  But they couldn’t
Say a thing, but thought they shouldn’t
Stick around here any longer
As their hearts beat ever stronger,
Thumping loudly in each chest,
Each boy as frightened as the rest.

But just as they were on the verge
Of all succumbing to the urge
To turn around and run a mile
The very thought became futile.
They couldn’t move and wouldn’t dare
As these words pierced the cold night air:

‘Well what a wonderful surprise!
Most kids round here don’t think it’s wise
To take a detour round this way
On this or any other day.’

And right in front of them they saw,
Where nobody had stood before,
A frail figure, stooped down low;
Bedecked in black from head to toe;
Around her feet a jet-black cat;
And on her head a pointy hat;
Beneath, her face had skin as green
As any grass you’ve ever seen;
Her chin all hairy, warts and all.

Still, Gary had the wherewithal
To try, despite the fact that he
Was stricken with anxiety
To lighten up the chilling mood
By teasing her and being rude:

‘Well blimey, there’s no doubt about it
That’s the most convincing outfit
I’ve seen anywhere tonight -
You really are an ugly sight.
A proper witch, spot-on costume,
Except that you forgot the broom.’



The witch responded with a vile
And positively evil smile
Revealing rows of broken yellow
Teeth inside.  ‘My dear young fellow
What you see is no disguise
And no witch I know ever flies
In thunderstorms - it’s suicide
To be flying about outside.
So now we’ve got that settled then my
Pretties you can tell me why
The four of you have come to see
A little old lady like me.’

Paul took it on himself to break
The silence: ‘We came here to take
All of your sweets and make a pickup.
It’s a good old fashioned stick-up.
Get ‘em now, and if you know
What’s good for you you won’t be slow.’

She cackled heartily, a chilling
Laugh: ‘You boys could make a killing.
What a fine coincidence
For you to have the impudence
To pay a visit.  How exquisite!
Why, this isn’t Christmas is it?’

‘This is Halloween you hag.
You see the sweets inside this bag?
We ring your bell, you give us stuff,
And we don’t think we’ve had enough.
So go ahead and give us nothing
If you fancy that we’re bluffing.’

She smiled another evil smile:
‘Well I must say it’s been a while
Since I can last remember meeting
Children up here trick-or-treating.
What a pity!  On my shelves
(And you must keep this to yourselves)
Are many a sugar-coated thing
To make your taste buds dance and sing.
There’s candy of all colours, lolly-
-pops, gobstoppers by the trolley,
Everything from sherbert dips
To bubblegum to walnut whips.

‘Oh how it’s pained me all these years
That local children have these fears
Of coming here.  Their parents say:
“You’re not going up there.  No way!”
When all I want to do is share
These sweets with all the kids out there.
So tell me, each of you in turn,
What’s the one thing for which you yearn?’

Up first was Gary: ‘I want all
The liquorice you’ve got.’  Then Paul:
‘The thing I want’s a nice and icky
Toffee apple, warm and sticky.’
Jonathon was next: ‘I crave a
Jellybean of every flavour.’
Lastly Steven spoke: ‘As long
As chocolate’s there you can’t go wrong.’

She nodded after each request,
Then said: ‘Perhaps it isn’t best
I give you any candy what
With all that you’ve already got.

‘No, what I think I’ll do instead
Is see that all the kids are fed
Who had the sheer misfortune to
Be bullied by the four of you.
Let’s give them liquorice, and lots
Of jellybeans and tasty chocs,
And toffee apples - it’s no fun
That you have lots and they have none.
And so I think a certain spell
I know will do the job quite well.’

And promptly she began to speak
In hushed tones shrouded in mystique
And babbling black incantations
Seldom heard in generations.

And in a whizz and pop the four
Boys standing there stood there no more.

Instead four bags, filled to the brim
With liquorice right to the rim,
And toffee apples, jelly beans,
And chocolate, bursting at the seams.
The boys were gone - and who would miss
A gang as horrible as this?

And with a wheeze the witch bent down
Picked up the bags and went to town
And mingled with the other folks
In pointy hats and witches cloaks
And fancy dress, and gave a treat
To every boy and girl she’d meet
Until all the contents were gone;
No Gary; Paul; no Jonathon;
No Steven left; no trace; no tracks.
Just more delicious treat and snacks
To eat along with all the others
By a bunch of candy lovers.

All of whom, I regret to say,
Reported feeling the next day
As poorly, sick, unwell and green
As they had ever felt or been.

And why did they not feel so great?
It must have been something they ate.