On All Hallows Eve
© 2022 by Abbie Johnson Taylor
The house was dark except for a lighted pumpkin in a front window. A cat perched next to it on the sill. All was quiet except for the rustling of leaves.
“Honey, I don’t think we can trick-or-treat here,” I told my eight-year-old daughter Jennifer, “Nobody’s home.”
“But they wouldn’t go off and leave a lighted pumpkin in the window. It could start a fire.”
“Well, it might be a battery-operated light.”
“Look at the cat!” Jennifer pointed.
“Oh, honey, that’s a black cat. They’re bad luck. We’ve had about all the bad luck we can take.”
“Yeah, I know. Daddy left us, and we lost our home in Florida because of the hurricane. But Grandma and Grandpa said we could move here to Wyoming, where you grew up, and live with them. You have a job you like. I have new friends in a school I like, and I get to see Grandma and Grandpa every day instead of just twice a year.”
“You’re right.” I hugged her.
“Grandma said you should always look on the bright side, no matter what.”
“She’s right, of course.”
“Besides, Grandma said that bit about black cats being bad luck is an old wives’ tale.”
“She’s right about that, too.”
Suddenly, an eerie howl erupted from the house’s screened-in side porch. Jennifer screamed, dropping her bag of goodies.
Grabbing her hand, I said, “Let’s get away from here.”
We didn’t stop running until we reached our lighted porch a few blocks away. The front door opened, and Mom gaped at us, as she said, “What on Earth?”
“Grandma, we were at this house that was all dark except for a lighted pumpkin, and there was a black cat in the window, and there was this big, scary dog on the side porch that howled at us.”
“Goodness!” Mom said. “Come inside. I’ll make some hot chocolate, and you can tell Grandpa and me all about it.”
As we sat in the living room in front of a roaring fire, sipping cocoa, Jennifer told the whole story. Dad scratched his head. “That sounds like the Potter house.”
“Of course,” Mom said. “Lynette, you remember the Potters. You went to school with Sylvia.”
“Yes, I remember now. Sylvia had a younger brother Ian. They had a black cat, and a big black dog that loved to howl. They kept him either in the yard or on the side porch. They always put a lighted pumpkin in the window on Halloween.”
I shook my head. “I lost touch with Sylvia after I left town. Whatever happened to them?”
“Well,” Dad answered. “last year, they all went on a family vacation, except for the cat, of course. And they were all killed in a car accident.”
***
Author’s Note: I wrote this last year in response to a flash fiction prompt from Wyoming Writers. It’ll be included in my short story collection, Living Vicariously in Wyoming, which I hope to publish next year. Happy Halloween!
Photo Courtesy of Tess Anderson Photography
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by Two Pentacles Publishing
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New! Why Grandma Doesn’t Know Me
Copyright 2021 by Abbie Johnson Taylor.
Independently published with the help of DLD Books.
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by Two Pentacles Publishing
Sixteen-year-old Natalie’s grandmother, suffering from dementia and confined to a wheelchair, lives in a nursing home and rarely recognizes Natalie. But one Halloween night, she tells her a shocking secret that only she and Natalie’s mother know. Natalie is the product of a one-night stand between her mother, who is a college English teacher, and another professor.
After some research, Natalie learns that people with dementia often have vivid memories of past events. Still not wanting to believe what her grandmother has told her, she finds her biological father online. The resemblance between them is undeniable. Not knowing what else to do, she shows his photo and website to her parents.
Natalie realizes she has some growing up to do. Scared and confused, she reaches out to her biological father, and they start corresponding.
Her younger sister, Sarah, senses their parents’ marital difficulties. At Thanksgiving, when she has an opportunity to see Santa Claus, she asks him to bring them together again. Can the jolly old elf grant her request?
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