The End of Summer: Thirteen Tales of Halloween by J. Tonzelli

Author:J. Tonzelli [Tonzelli, J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: AuthorMike Dark Ink
Published: 2013-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

ONE GOOD SCARE

“Don't you see…? I could be either a murderer or a savior, because until human eyes see inside the box, the man inside is both dead and alive at the same…a ghost of all possibilities…condemned to live in a limbo until the box is opened and he is observed by human eyes.”

— John Carpenter, “The Ghost Maker”

In his place at the back corner of the shop, John momentarily halted his fight with the display of plastic skeletons and stared out the far display window near the main entrance. It was a late Saturday morning – October 31st to be exact – and John’s small town was fluttering with excitement and activity as last minute Halloween shoppers dodged in and out of the stores on Mission Street, desperate to find the perfect costume for the ensuing night’s activities. But the fact that it was Halloween made no difference to John. It was no different from the other 364 days a year when he was brutally tempted to brandish his middle finger on his way out of Irwin’s Hardware & General as his other hand fumbled in his pockets for the keys to his station wagon. He routinely fantasized leaving all of the nonsense behind and high-tailing it to a place where it was warm and sunny every day of the year—where handsaw blades didn’t need to be sharpened, or paint didn’t need to be mixed. Needless to say, his middle finger remained firmly flaccid, and his resolve beaten down on a daily basis.

John stared with defeat at the supposedly malleable skeletons that were designed to be bent and twisted and positioned in any shape desired. Despite all the promises, the little boned men refused to stand even on their own two feet. And as one of them tumbled off the display and clattered to the floor, John reflected on how truly miserable he was—had been since graduating high school and matriculating to precisely nowhere. As John saw it, his future had dead-ended pretty quickly, and it had left him embittered and slightly sad. It had gotten so bad that one day a concerned friend had asked John if he was actually living life, or just getting through it. Recalling this question, as he did on an almost daily basis, he stole a cursory glance around the store at the jars, tins, boxes, and bundles; at the signs offering free carpet installation estimates or lifetime gutter maintenance. In his heart, he knew the answer. Irwin’s Hardware & General, planted firmly in Middle of Nowhere, Illinois, was the last place on earth John wanted to be.

Reasonably, and all emotions aside, there wasn’t much on the surface to hate. The townspeople were friendly, the neighborhoods clean. It was the kind of welcoming, sterile environment for which families seemed destined. There were massive barbecues in the summer and luminary lightings in the winter. Mr. Simms, over on Old Reservoir Road, headed up the Cub Scout program, and Mrs. Elrod on Orange Grove organized a neighborhood-wide yard sale every spring.

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