The Empty House on Redditch Lane
Short story.
Instalment One.
“No you knock first! I knocked on the last one!” Harold said behind his zombie mask.
“But I knocked on the last three before that!” Sabrina, aptly dressed like a witch, protested. Both continued to bicker about who was the oldest, but then who covered for the other when their mum had found the milk to have been left open and leaked all over the fridge. Again.
“Fine,” Sabrina finally said. “Ill paly you for it.” Harold eyed Sabrina’s hand which was curled in a fist on a flat palm. He knew she was older, and she had knocked on more houses tonight, and there was no way he wanted to nock on the Redditch House. No way, Jose.
“Okay, but its rock, paper, scissors SHOOT, no going on scissors.” Sabrina smile wryly, her mischievous face painted in glitter and blusher.
The two primed themselves, hearts in their throats. In unison they both chanted –
“Rock, paper, scissors SHOOT!”
Sabrina held a strong rock, but Harold’s paper consumed it.
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“Winner!” Harold shouted triumphantly, giggling behind his mask. Sabrina’s face was sour.
“Best two out of three?”
“No way!”
“Come on,” she protested, eyeing the huge black door, the small black rectangle window at the top nested with spider webs, and the ornaments that hung off it high balcony glaring down at them with sinister smiles. “I’ll do your chores for two weeks.” Harold pondered the idea, eyeing Sabrina in the dark. No streetlights on Redditch Lane. Just lots of fields and woods. In fact, not a single other trick or treater had gone by. They knew better. Since four years ago when Jim Salesbury who rode the Spider Man tricycle on Harper Lane had come here and gone missing, nobody had come here since.
“Three,” Harold said, finally. Sabrina rolled her eyes and nodded. They batted up again.
“Rock, paper, scissors SHOOT!”
Harold held scissors, expecting a withering paper to face him, but instead, he was crushed by a firm rock. The stakes were high. Round three. Winner take all. Harold swallowed hard, and Sabrina bit down her lip.
“Rock, paper, scissors –”
“We can just go home,” Harold said quickly. “Nobody lives here anyway; we won’t get any more candy!” Sabrina’s face twisted.
“What? And have to tell Alex Beddard at school that we chickened out? No way!” She leaned in once more, priming her hand. “Come on.”
The two stared each other down, trying to guess their final move. Harold took in a deep breath, eyeing that ominous black door with the heavy gold knocker.
“Rock, paper, scissors –”
The door of the Redditch House flew open in a blast of death and icy wind, as a grey bony hand snapped out the blackness, fingernails taking hold of Sabrina’s dress, pulling her inside. Her screams stretching inside as the door slammed shut, her witch hat still on the front step, as Harold ran into the night screaming for his parents.