Seeing is Believing

A Halloween Short Story by Miranda Rijks

‘This is Tom,’ my sister says, beaming as she introduces us to her new man.

‘Welcome! Come in and have a seat in the living room,’ I say.

Mimi, our eight-year-old, tugs my hand as I go into the kitchen to make coffee. ‘I don’t like him, Mum. He’s creepy.’

‘Don’t be silly, he’s fine and Aunty Sue likes him a lot.’

When I hand him his coffee, black with no sugar, I sort of understand what Mimi means. His eyes are a little too far apart, deeply set into his skull and he licks his lips repeatedly.

‘What do you do?’ Craig, my husband, asks.

‘I’m a grave digger.’

I wish Sue had warned us.

The night before Halloween, Sussex is struck by a massive storm. Trees are uprooted and chimneys tugged from roofs. Unsurprisingly, the power goes off and we are plunged into darkness. Even the mobile phone networks crash for a couple of hours. Craig is away working in Manchester and when the networks are restored and he eventually calls, he sounds frantic with worry.

‘It’s fine,’ I reassure him. ‘We’re safe and as far as I can tell, there’s no damage to the house.’

‘With all the disruption to the trains, I doubt I’ll make it home in time for Halloween.’

I groan. I’ve always had an irrational dislike of Halloween, so it is Craig’s job to accompany the children trick-or-treating around the village.

‘Why don’t you get Sue to join you?’ he suggests.

The day dawns grey and murky, the power still off. We keep ourselves warm by wearing lots of jumpers and the kids make ghoulish masks to wear with their Halloween costumes.

I call Sue mid-morning. ‘Fancy trick-or-treating with us tonight?’

‘Sure,’ she says with surprising enthusiasm. ‘Tom is working so I’ll be alone.’

‘He’s digging graves on Halloween?’

‘He has to patrol the graveyard and appease any ghosts.’

‘What’s he really doing?’ I ask, sniggering.

‘It’s the truth,’ Sue says, flatly.

‘But you don’t believe in ghosts.’

‘I didn’t. I’ve changed my mind. Tom has seen lots of ghosts and apparently tonight is the night when they all make themselves known.’

‘It’s a tradition, Sue. Halloween is a silly, man-made tradition aimed to boost the confectionary industry.’

‘You’re so cynical,’ she says. ‘What time do you want me to come over?’

‘6pm.’

Mimi is dressed as a witch, wearing a black pointed hat and a hastily constructed cape. Her younger brother, William, chose to be a ghost, courtesy of a sheet. They are besides themselves with excitement.

‘We just need to wait for Aunty Sue and then we can go out trick-or-treating,’ I explain.

6 pm comes and goes. By 6.15 pm the children are frantic, and kernels of worry nibble my insides. I ring Sue but her mobile goes to voicemail.

‘All the best sweets will be gone,’ Mimi moans.

‘You’re right. We’ll leave now and stop by Aunty Sue’s house.’

I push aside my worries, and holding the torch, we leave the house. Despite the foul weather and the lack of electricity, our village is humming, candles flickering in windows, the scent of damp wood rising from chimneys. Every family is out, children dressed in spooky costumes.

Sue’s house is shrouded in darkness, yet her silver Kia is parked outside the gate.

‘Let’s see if Aunty Sue is here.’ I rap loudly on her door. There is no answer. Uneasiness grips my throat. Sue is the most reliable person I know.

Leaving my sister’s house behind, the children race from door to door, stuffing themselves with sugary sweets and when the rain turns torrential, we head home. I ring Sue every few minutes. I call other neighbours, but no one has seen or spoken to her, and no one has Tom’s number. I can sense that something is horribly wrong.

The power comes on as I am putting the kids to bed, and then just before 10 pm, the front door opens.

‘Surprise!’ Craig grins. ‘I got a lift south with a colleague.’

I throw my arms around him. ‘I’m worried about Sue.’

‘Do you want me to go around to hers and check?’

‘No. You’re tired. Stay here with the kids and I’ll go.’

I tug on my waterproofs and stride briskly down the street. Sue’s house is still cloaked in darkness.

My heart is pounding as I put her key in the lock.

‘Anyone home?’ Silence. I walk through the narrow hallway into the kitchen and switch on the light. Sue’s mobile phone lies on the small kitchen table.

And that’s when I see it. Dark red fluid dripping down the front of the fridge, pooling onto the floor.

I scream.

I know I should open the fridge door, but can I really bear to see my sister’s head inside? The room spins and I grab the edge of the table to stop myself from slipping to the ground. Somehow, I manage to call Craig.

‘Tom’s killed her,’ I whisper. ‘And he might still be here.’

‘I’m calling the police,’ Craig says. ‘Get out of the house.’

I edge backwards out of the kitchen, my breathing shallow and fast, my heartbeat deafening. In the hallway, I turn and bolt out of the front door, running down the path, back along the pavement and straight into Craig’s arms.

‘The police are on their way.’

With his arm tightly around my shoulders we walk back to Sue’s house. ‘Stay here love and I’ll go and check.’

‘I’m coming with you.’

Craig gasps as he sees the crimson puddle of blood. We both hold our breaths as he steps towards the fridge door.

‘Hello! Sorry I missed trick-or-treating.’ Sue stands in the doorway, arm in arm with Tom. ‘My phone died, and I couldn’t charge it. We’ve been ghost-spotting.’

Craig and I stand there our mouths opening and closing.

I point at the red puddle on the floor. Sue steps forwards and pulls open the fridge door.

‘Damn,’ she says. ‘It must have been the power cut. The cherry sorbet has leaked everywhere.’

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Miranda x