2008 Halloween Story Contest : Showcase : Pride's a Sin…
Halloween Creative Writing Story Showcase
Pride's a Sin Didn't You Get The Memo?
By Michelle McLellan
It was a Sunday, around eight o' clock at night. Melissa, a friend of mine from school, was walking with me. As we walked, we complimented one another's cloaks, fangs, and dyed-black hair; that year, Melissa and I had gone as vampires for Halloween. We'd managed to hit pretty much the entire neighborhood. In fact, we were on the very last block.
As we rounded the corner, we caught sight of some people standing three houses down who were clustered together and talking very quickly at one another. Three middle-aged women, whose costumes appeared to be those of ghosts in white dresses, were facing down a witch, a ninja, a rabbit, and their parents (who, for the night, seemed to be Mr. and Mrs. Frankenstein's Monster). All of them were talking at once, and one of the ghost women opened a book and started to read from it in a funny voice. I couldn't hear exactly what she said, but caught lots of angrily-intoned "ye"s and "thou"s and "shalt not"s. As Melissa and I drew closer, we could hear that she was quoting the Bible, something about burning witches. Mr. Frankenstein's Monster, interrupted by bellowing, "Well, maybe you should burn each other, then!"
Mrs. Frankenstein, addressing the ninja, rabbit, and witch, said more calmly, "Come on, let's go home. We can watch Ghostbusters, okay?" The three of them reluctantly agreed and shuffled off. The Middle English-spewing ghosts headed our way.
"Well, hello there," one of them said, not unkindly. "What are you two this year?"
"We're vampires," Melissa replied, baring her teeth.
"Ve vont to drrrink your blooood!" I added, in Dracula fashion, for good measure.
The women scowled at us, unappreciative of my awesome Bela Lugosi impression. "Vampires are unholy creatures," one of them told us. "Where are your parents? We'd like to "
"Our parents are giving out candy. Why aren't you giving out candy? Grown-ups aren't supposed to trick-or-treat. It's silly," Melissa interrupted, giggling.
The three women's scowls deepened. "We are not trick-or-treating," said the oldest one (she must have been about seventy) imperiously. "We are patrolling this area to warn others of the dangers involved in flaunting this holy day." (Brimstone and hellfire, I'm sure.) Melissa and I looked at each other, frowning. "Did you know today was a holyday?" she queried.
"Today is Halloween," I said. "Of course it's a holyday."
"Not a holiday, a holy day!" a different woman (with a nasally voice) scolded us.
"Isn't that the same thing?" I asked innocently.
"NO!" they all shrieked at once. Melissa and I jumped. The oldest-looking one (they were all over fifty) continued, "Today is Sunday, the Lord's Day. We cheapen His holy day with these facsimiles of demonic creatures, and my church has decided to put an end to this desecration by the masses."
"Would you like to be blessed?" the youngest jumped in, producing a plastic bottle from some unseen orifice. (A divine pocket, perhaps?)
"What's that?" Melissa asked, pointing at the bottle.
"Holy water," the woman replied, and started to splash us. In our everlasting quest to remain in character, Melissa and I sank to our knees, throwing our hands up and howling melodramatically, "It buuuuuuuuuuurns! AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
The women shrieked and flitted away. "That was weird," Melissa said. I nodded in agreement; we turned around, dusted off our cloaks, and headed home. To this day, the memory of this experience reminds me never to take myself too seriously. Pride, after all, is a deadly sin. •
© 2008 Michelle McLellan, Plano East Senior High School.