THE LAST DOOR

Rebecca Knight

rfwil9@icloud.com 1,026 words

THE LAST DOOR

In our neighborhood their were very few trees. On Halloween night the ghosts and goblins could easily find you running from house to house. They flew overhead, high up in the dark, watching us below with few trees to obstruct their view.

I lived in Florida, south of Miami near the Everglades. The creek that drained the empty swampland adjacent to my house snaked its way through our new housing development. Mom cautioned me to stay away from the creek. “It could be hiding place for goblins and wicked alligators,” she said with wide eyes. I laughed.

The children began roaming the neighborhood at twilight on Halloween. My four younger brothers and one younger sister followed Mom like baby ducks as they made their way house to house. 

My twelve year old sister and her girlfriends refused to let me, a ten year old, join them. “Go with your own friends,” my sister shouted over her shoulder as she ran off with a hula dancer, Marilynn Monroe, and two Bobby Soxers wearing saddle shoes and crinolines layered under felt skirts with fancy poodles stitched on them. One pink and one purple poodle bounced in my face as their skirts flew passed me. I ran behind them trying to keep up. 

My arms and legs were stiff, wrapped head to toe in strips of an old white sheet, I looked like a mummy. I could only see out of one eye as the other was hidden behind the cloth painted bright blood red to look like an empty eye socket. Each arm and leg were attached with safety pins to my clothes beneath. I could see my sister out of my one available eye. She ran with her friends farther, and farther, away from me. I even skipped a house trying to catch up. 

Halfway down the block, I realized I was on my own. I couldn’t keep up with the older girls. I decided to do my best to get more candy than my sister. That would show her. She should have taken me along! 

The linen, wrapped snuggly over my head and under my chin, still allowed me to thank people as they dropped candy into my big grocery bag. I ran from house to house with a stiff legged gait, my knee joints wrapped up tight. I never gave a thought to the lurking ghosts and goblins as twilight faded into soft darkness. The street lights were on as were most of the porch lights. 

A woman gave me a Carmel apple that smelled so good it made my mouth water. That caused saliva to drool onto the cloth around my chin. No matter, mummies probably drooled. My bag was still less than half full. I ran to the next door and breathlessly begged,“Trick or treat.” I held my bag up to receive the candy. “Oh my! A mummy,” the woman laughed as she dropped a Hershey bar with almonds in the bag. I craved the sweet and salty taste but had to continue my quest. On to the next and then the next house. One white sock slipped down exposing my leg where the wrapping ended. I ignored it. 

Four tall boys walked past me. One said, “Hey, I like that mummy. Maybe I’ll do that next year.” He was dressed as Elvis Presley with a big black, slick, wig. 

Another boy, who wore a sheet with two big holes for his eyes said, “Nah, I’ll be Dracula. Then I can bite these little kids and get their candy.” He looked at my bag. I immediately felt afraid he would grab it. I hurried up onto a porch where the door was open and the light was bright. Then, I ran away as fast as I could while the four boys lined up to collect after me. 

Dogs barked. I hoped they were either chained up or locked inside a fence. I was more afraid of dogs than witches or ghosts. I decided to join a group that had a dad with them thinking it was safer. But they were too slow. I ran across the street on my own because I noticed I got more candy when I was alone.

Soon, my bag was over half full and heavy. I stopped to pull up my sock. It had worked its way down into my shoe and slowed me down. Only a few children were left on this block. Roy Rogers galloped by shouting, “Til’ we meet again!” Batman raced past me singing, “Non-na, non-a, non-a, non-a ! BATMAN.”

At the next house, a man with a fatherly voice said, “Don’t you think it’s time to go home? It is late and the witches come out at midnight.”

“Yes sir,” I said. “I will go home now. You are my last door.” He smiled and gave me two Baby Ruth’s. I walked away realizing I was the only child left on this street. It was pitch black, quiet, and I began to feel afraid. Looking both ways I wasn’t sure which way was back to my house. So I turned back the way I had come. There were no other children on the sidewalks. Porch lights were being turned off. 

I walked for what seemed like forever, “I think I’m lost,” I whispered aloud. 

I wanted to cry but told myself to just keep going. My feet hurt. My right arm was unraveling and I put the dangling white cloth inside the bag. I heard a sound and looked up. I could see nothing but felt a presence. Then a voice came out of the dark, “Did you hear that?” I ran. 

When I saw the creek, I felt relieved because it meant I was headed in the righty direction. Then something in the dark along the edge moved…. I ran faster. A dog howled a long, high pitched yowl that sounded like a werewolf.

Tears forced their way out of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I saw a light and heard a voice calling out, “Becky! Beck-eee!” It was my mothers voice. Her flashlight landed on my face and blinded me for a second.