Mischief Night

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"Hey Rusty, how much corn do you have left?" Tommy Miller questioned his freckled friend, a big grin crossing Rusty Patton's face.

"A whole shopping bag full -- that should be enough."

Tommy nodded. "I still got pretty much; went down to the field again Monday. Couple of cobs, too."

The seventh graders walked down the sidewalk as a brisk October wind rustled the fallen leaves which were scattered around the grass lawns of their neighborhood.

Several piles sat patiently in the gutter, waiting for the leaf collection trucks to make their rounds. The boys gazed at the houses, continuing their short hike home from the school bus.

"Tommy, look at the Crawford's place."

Rusty pointed a thin finger to his right, and the pair looked at a huge jack- o'-lantern carved in the likeness of a cat, sitting on the front step of a two-story house.

"We'll smash it tonight," Tommy answered.

"Better run fast, then. If Mr. Crawford sees us, we're in big trouble. He knows my dad, they go down to the bar sometimes." Rusty was nervous at the thought, but that was part of the fun.

Halloween raiding was an adventure, the trick being
not
to get caught.

Both of the boys' parents allowed them to go out, but with two conditions -- they could only take corn, and had to be in by nine. The boys could deal with the rules, although they would bend them at times. They approached an intersection. On the far side was a large maple tree; strips of toilet paper were strewn about its lower branches, as if decorated by an insane artist.

"Rob Sterner did that. Don't know where he sneaks all the toilet paper from." Rusty laughed at the scene, which posed a major headache to the property owner.

"He takes it from the school bathroom," Tommy said.

"Really? He's crazy," answered Rusty. "If he gets caught, he'll be in detention for a week."

"Yeah, he's nuts all right. Hey, did I tell you, Jimmy Krick is coming over later. He's raiding with us tonight."

Rusty stopped, looking over at his friend as they reached the other side of the street. "Jimmy? Talk about crazy...I don't know if we should go with him."

Rusty adjusted his backpack, looking worried, the brown hair fluttering in the breeze.

"It's okay. He's not that bad," said Tommy.

Rusty wasn't convinced. "I heard he broke three windows last year, and soaped up a police car."

"Well, don't worry. If he tries anything like that, we'll just tell him no."

They approached Tommy's house, and he turned around, shoving Rusty lightly. "Seven, all right? Meet us out front here, and make sure you bring enough corn."

"See ya'," replied Rusty. He crossed the street, angling towards his own house, which sat across from Tommy's. He frowned though, at the thought of Jimmy coming along.

He really hoped the boy wouldn't cause any trouble.

~ * ~

"Ready?"

Tommy and Rusty nodded, as Jimmy counted on his fingers. The boy was a pale figure on the wooden porch, taller than his two companions. He reached 'three' and in unison the trio jumped up and down, stomping relentlessly on the floorboards. Laughing hysterically, they bounded away off the landing and ran, cutting through the neighboring yard. Lights came on at the house they'd left behind, and a dog barked from within. Wordlessly they continued their flight for another block, until they were convinced that no one had followed.

"Good one," said Tommy. "We probably gave them a heart attack."

"That'll teach them to leave their lights off, won't it?" Jimmy's smug grin gave the boy a malicious appearance in the darkness.

"We still have some time left, let's go." Jimmy crouched behind a hedgerow, and the others followed him. They scrambled across to a stone alleyway, leading up a small hill, which was wooded at the top. Jimmy hurried ahead and the alley ended, stopping at a poorly-lit street. Few houses were there, mostly older stone dwellings. Across the road sat a solitary home, fronted by a bank of ivy, crumbling steps leading up to the entrance. Moss clung to the house like fungus. Half of the roof tiles were missing, the grass was unkempt, and dark woods loomed ominously behind the backyard. A single light escaped from an upper window, forlorn and sinister in the chill night.

"Now
that's
a creepy-looking place," said Jimmy. "Who lives there?"

"Old man Berger," replied Rusty, a shiver going down his spine. "He's some German guy, lives by himself. One time Mickey Davis yelled at him to go back to Germany, and he came over to us, but we ran away. I've seen him once or twice after that, and he looked at me like he wanted to skin me alive."

"Yeah, his place is supposed to be haunted." Tommy shook his head,

unable to take his eyes off the mysterious house.

"Cool...A real haunted house, and here we are on Halloween.

Perfect." Jimmy fingered a tomato, and Rusty looked at him in alarm.

"I think we better go, it's getting late." Rusty looked over at Tommy, hoping for support.

"Wait, we
have
to hit this place before we leave." Jimmy turned to his companions. "You don't believe in ghosts, do you?" Tommy shook his head, but Rusty was silent.

"Oh, come on now, you guys call yourselves raiders? Now
this
...is raiding."

"I don't know," answered Rusty. "It's scary."

"Well, we're not going inside for trick or treat," Jimmy mocked, gesturing with his hands in front of Rusty's face. "Jump on the porch, throw a cob or two, then run. If he's just an old man, then what's the big deal? Tommy?"

Jimmy looked at Tommy now, the boy showing some hesitation. After a few moments, he encouraged his friend. "It's all right, Rusty. Let's do it and we'll run home."

Already moving forward, Jimmy went into the street, the other two following reluctantly. They reached the sidewalk in front of Berger's house, and Jimmy started up the worn flight of steps leading to the rotting porch. Rusty came last, and he glanced up at the gloomy upper reach. He gasped in fear as a shadow appeared at a window, and then it was gone.

"Wait," he snapped, "I saw him look out."

His friends stopped, scanning the building with straining eyes. After a few seconds, Jimmy spoke in a hushed whisper. "I don't see anything; you're just scared. Come on."

He reached the porch, and the others approached with less confidence. Gesturing with his hand, Jimmy crept to the curtained front window, peering inside.

"Guys, you ain't gonna' believe this. Come here."

Heart pounding in fear, Rusty stared at Tommy's back as he stood with Jimmy. His legs felt leaden, his eyes darting left and right as he joined them.

Rusty gazed inside, a small curtain with tattered holes revealing glimpses of the interior. Black candles were placed in an odd pattern, circling the edges of a low table. The wicks sputtered wildly, caught in some unseen draft.

"Wow, that's weird." Jimmy let out a low whistle, his breath fogging the glass.

"Look! What's that?" Tommy pointed inside, his fingertip touching the window.

The boys followed his gaze to a diminutive form hunched over in one corner. It appeared to be a small man, apparently sleeping, the face hidden within the folds of an odd-looking robe.

"That can't be Berger, he's too small," said Tommy.

"Is that a dwarf?" Jimmy pressed his face against the cold glass. Rusty had an ominous feeling, and was ready to bolt away. Then, from somewhere in the street, a low voice pitched upwards, accompanied by a short bark. Instantly they slunk down, with Tommy crawling to the rim of the porch.

"Berger's coming -- he's walking his dog. And it looks mean."

A shuffling, bent figure approached the house, holding the chain to a large black animal, looking more wolf than dog.

"Oh no, if he catches us we're dead meat," Rusty's voice quivered.

There could be little doubt as to what intentions the group had on the man's porch this late, on Halloween.

"Quick, over the side, then around back."

Jimmy was already next to the stone ledge bordering the porch. He pulled himself over and disappeared. Tommy backed up to where Rusty knelt, motioning his friend to follow. Rusty shook with fear, and knew that he had to run. Glancing inside the window briefly, he noticed that the sleeping figure was gone. His eyes grew wide and spider chills crawled along his skin.

What was it? And where had it gone? But he had no time to think as Tommy reached the stone and the sound of Berger drew closer. On hands and knees, Rusty made it to the edge and slunk over, dropping onto the ivy that strangled the foundation of the house. He followed Tommy's retreating form as he snuck along the side of the home. Rusty joined him as a harsh growl erupted from the front of the building.