TO CHANCE UPON A UNICORN
“Trick or Treat!”
Logan might just get the hang of this. For his first Halloween, kids in costumes, the colored leaves, smiling jack-o’-lanterns, and candy plunking his pail had Logan bursting with excitement. He was a little lost, needing to remember to follow the other children. Like a copycat. A copycat with a sickle!
The porch clunked to the footsteps of the most dreadful horde to brave the brisk air and musky wet leaves. Mia the witch, Ethan the glowing skeleton, Harper the princess, Caleb the pumpkin head, Olivia the unicorn, Liam the soft yellow duckling, and Corey the butterfly each huddled around a stranger’s door. Logan stood beaming alongside them, just turning five in his Grim Reaper getup.
The others held out their pumpkin buckets and opened sacks as the homeowner came to their summons. Logan copied the motions with his pail. Miniature chocolate bars, suckers, and ghost-themed bubble gum soon filled their clutches. Behind his black mask, Logan watched with glee as the lady gave him an extra piece.
Careful going down each porch step, Logan braced, avoiding getting pushed. Other kids charged by in a stampede. They squealed and laughed their way to the sidewalks where the grownups waited. His group’s grownup was a woman named Marty, the town’s local hairdresser.
Logan’s mom said Marty was at least sixty years old but dressed thirty. Every Halloween, Marty grew even younger, transforming into a teenage witch via heavy makeup, black tights, and a short skirt that matched her daughter Mia.
Mia, far more frightened than Logan, clutched her mother’s skirt at every doorstep and whined about costumes too scary. Twice she screamed at the same vampire decoration hung from a tree. Now she thought, with widening eyes, that the letter “W” on a watermelon taffy wrapper stood for “witchcraft.”
Logan realized she was stupid.
Marty puffed a cigarette as the group gathered around the sidewalk, a brisk wind clearing the spicy smoke cloud like a whiteboard eraser. “Don’t tell your moms, kids. And no, smoking ain’t good for you.”
Logan the reaper inched closer to pumpkin head Caleb and butterfly Corey as some teenagers passed. These big kids headed for the porch the little ones just left.
“My dad smokes cigarettes in the backyard,” Liam the duckling said, “but after our last class from Mrs. Buckler on how bad it is, I told him all about it, so he said he’s going to stop smoking them right away.”
Marty dropped the cigarette and squished it with her pointy shoe. “Well, he’s in for a tough time. I’ve tried to quit several times. It doesn’t happen. It’s hard, a lot harder than it sounds.”
“Look,” Ethan the skeleton tugged on Caleb’s arm. “There’s no next house, guys. The road goes dark.”
Absorbed in the world of monsters, candy, and Marty’s cigarette, most of the group hadn’t noticed. Except Logan. He wished he found the courage to speak up more.
The pavement stretched beyond the last light post, the road and sidewalk there only visible by moonlight. When a chilly wind blew through Logan’s costume, a rise in distant rustling meant a lot of trees hiding in that darkness. Far across the void, warm yard lights and mailboxes resumed as little dots.
“Yeah, everyone,” Marty said, “we need to head back the way we came. Plus, your parents’ll come soon to pick you back up—up in front of the school.”
The unicorn, Olivia, stamped her plastic hoof-covered foot. “But those houses already gave us candy, Ms. Marty. It’s not being very efficient!”
“It’s not being eco-friendly,” Ethan chimed.
“We’ve learned all about that, so we know!” squeaked Princess Harper.
“It’s not about being eco-this or whatever,” Marty replied. “It’s about not getting my butt chewed out by your parents.” She peered at her wristwatch strapped to her silky mesh sleeve, and wrinkles cracked her makeup when she squinted. “Alright, I guess we have some time to go down there still. We’re all young and energetic here but listen: we all hold hands in a chain as we cross the dark part, like we do when crossing the street at the school. No one ever let go of anyone else’s hand, no matter what. And I’ll keep calling out all your names, and you better answer to be counted for.”
Only Logan and Liam kept quiet while the rest cheered. Then the children formed a single line, with Marty in the middle.
“I’m serious, guys. I don’t want any of you running off and getting lost in the dark! Hold each other’s hands tight! Half in front of me, half behind me.”
Logan felt Corey grab his hand, squeezing his fingers shut, and Harper came for his other. He knew he had to speak up. He could not lose his wicked curved blade, but even when he wanted to talk, it was hard. Instead, he refused to let go of the staff when Harper tried to clutch his hand.
“He can’t!” the princess said, “or he can’t hold his sickle!”
“I’ll hold his sickle,” Marty said, and Logan felt relief when the woman took it for safekeeping.
Marty directed Ethan to take the lead. He had the only costume with bright LEDs lining every bone on his bodysuit, acting as a human flashlight. Behind Ethan, Olivia the unicorn held on firmly. Liam the duckling came third, clutching Marty’s front hand. Marty’s rear hand gripped tight to her daughter, Mia the witch, who held tight to Harper the princess. Her highness clung to Logan’s front hand, and Corey held Logan’s rear hand. Finally, Caleb the pumpkin head helmed the rear.
Like an ant line, the group left the lamppost, vanishing into the darkness.
