They Only Come Out At Night

They Only Come Out At Night

(A Halloween Tale).

(2300 words).

         Feeling blue was an Alien feeling to Bobby Conway. Normally he was a cheerful, enthusiastic fourteen-year-old boy but for some reason today, Halloween, he woke up in a cold sweat with an impending sense of doom.

         As he lay in the twisted and sweat-soaked sheets of his bed with last night's nightmare slowly creeping into his mind, he thought to himself, "Don't be silly, It was just a dream." Still, Tremors began to trickle down his spine in waves. "Get a grip, Bobby," he said out loud, followed by a half-hearted chuckle. Vampires aren't real. But ... he didn't recall ever having a dream as vivid as this one, not even the ones when he was five and still believed in the boogieman, or that there could be a Ghost living in his closet.

         "Ghosts, boogie-men, that's kid's stuff," Bobby scoffed as he threw his covers back and sat up. The Shining sun filtered in through the giant elm outside his window, casting a pattern of dancing shadows on the wall. Bobbie's eyes opened wide, his mouth dropping slack, making him look like he was possibly slightly addle-brained. He blinked twice, rapidly, but yes, it was still there ... a figure resembling a man who had maybe suffered a severe head injury. The figure was gyrating with the gentle breeze coming in the partially-opened window. No, not a man, but more like The Mummy in those old black and white movies his dad was so fond of. Its arms were held out stiffly, and you could see the rough edges of bandages that were coming slightly undone as he bobbed and weaved like some kind of Psycho rag-doll.

         Bolting up like a rocket headed for Mars, Bobby made a mad-dash for his bedroom door, but his foot struck the box sitting in the middle of his room, his Halloween costume for tonight. He lurched forward nearly slamming into his dresser. Gaining his balance, he exited the door and ran down the hall calling frantically, "Mom, Dad!" Peeking into their room, he saw his mom roll over, eyes still half-closed.

         "What is it, Bobby?" she asked in a rough and obviously irritated voice. She covered her mouth and proceeded to let out a long, loud yawn. "Your father's gone to the office. Although, I don't see what's so-gosh-darn pressing that he has to go in on a Saturday!"

         Bobby hung in the entrance, listening to her spout several more complaints, mostly about how she'd like to give Mr, Clemmons, his dad's boss, a good piece of her mind. A flush began to rise up his face. Now that he no longer had to be alone with the dancing mummy, he was beginning to feel like an idiot, like some snot-nosed little kid that was afraid of his own shadow for crying out loud. "Nothing, mom," he said. "I was just wondering if you were going to make your famous Pumpkin Pancakes, like you always do."

         "Of course I am, silly. Give me a couple of minutes to shake the sand out of my eyes. While I'm doing that, you can be a doll-face and start my coffee."

         "Alright, mom," he said, not sounding pleased with this extra chore. He headed back down the hall to the staircase. As he approached the top of the stairs he thought, what the heck, if I still believe in monsters, then I must not be too old to slide down the banister. Throwing his leg over the railing, he zipped down, landing at the bottom with a flourish and jumping up to give the wall leading into the kitchen a high-five. He was feeling more like his old-chipper self with each passing minute.

         The kitchen linoleum felt smooth and icy-cold beneath his bare feet, and in his haste to get-outta dodge in a hurry, or in this case get-outta-the-mummy-infested bedroom, he'd neglected to put on his robe. His dad, being frugal, always waited till the last possible day to turn on the heat. "How's it going," he said to The Bone Eater, a nickname he'd given his black lab puppy when he was just four. His real name was Max, and the dog now stretched out on his front legs, and then gave his body a vigorous shake. Bobby scratched him behind his ears. "Sleep good, buddy? Wanna go out, boy?" After Max went out to do his business, he took the coffee from its shelf in the cupboard next to the sink, and took a filter from the flowered canister by the coffee-maker, then filled the pot with water and dumped it in. Placing the filled container into its little slot, he gave the On-button a quick flip.

         Bobby walked back down the hall to the foot of the steps, and hollered up at his mom, "Hey, mom! How come my cape wasn't in with my Dracula costume?"

         "Bobby, how many times do I have to tell you not to holler up the steps like that?" his mom said as she made her way down, still sounding groggy.

         "Sorry, mom, but I need that cape for tonight."

         Well, it must still be up in the attic. You'll have to get The Skeleton Key down off the top of the china hutch," she said, making her way to the kitchen. She stopped to give Bobby a kiss on the cheek and continued on, her pink slippers making little shuffling noises on the vinyl floor in the hallway.

         "I think I'll give Chucky a call first," Bobby told her as he made his way to the little table in the hallway. Picking up the phone, he dialed his friend's number. Chuck and Bobby had been best friends since the second grade. His mom often referred to them as Mutt and Jeff, because Bobby was short for his age, and Chuck was the tallest boy in their ninth grade class. He was, in fact, taller than most of the sophomores and juniors too, which is what mostly earned him the nickname of Frankenstein. Well that, and the fact he had one enormous head! The phone rang twice, and Chuck's mother answered. "Is Chuck home?" Bobby asked.

         Chuck's mother said, "One moment, Robert." Faintly he heard her call, "Charles, telephone, dear." Pour Chucky, Bobby mused to himself. Man, if there was anything the kid loathed, it was having people call him Charles, or worse yet his full-name, Charles Steven Maris the third! He stifled a laugh as Chuck said, "Hello?"

         "How's it hanging, Franky? Did you get your costumed worked out?"

         "Yeah, my dad helped me make a wire brace that holds her onto my side." Chuck was going as "Chucky" from the movie, and with his carrot-top he didn't even need a wig. He rigged up a life-sized doll to play the part of his wife, Bride of Chucky.

         "Well bring it on over, you can help me find my cape up in the attic."

         "Gimme five, bro," Chuck said and hung up before Bobby could say goodbye.

         Exactly five minutes later Chuck was knocking, and Bobby went to let him in. He lived right next door, and Bobby's mom joked as to whether he lived at home or with them. They dashed up the stairs as only fourteen-year-old boys will, bouncing each other off the walls and railing, laughing as they went. "Ah crap," Bobby moaned. "I forgot the key! Hey, slide down and grab it off the top of the hutch. Heck, you're so tall you don't need to get a stool." Once Chuck was back with it, they proceeded to the far end of the hall. Bobby took a quick nervous glance into his bedroom, but the sky had clouded over, and Mr. Mummy Man was temporarily gone.

         They made their way up the short flight of steps to the attic, and Bobby slipped the old-time key into the lock. At first it wouldn't turn. "Let me try," Chuck said, giving him a less than gentle shove. As Chuck reached for the key, they both gasped as the key turned by itself, and the door opened with an audible squeak. Bobby tried to say something, but a large rock seemed to have deposited itself in his throat, and all he managed was, "waa." Chuck's face had gone about two shades whiter than his already usual pale complexion.

         "Di... did you see that?" he asked, eyes staring wildly at Bobby.

         Bobby swallowed hard and said in a little croak, "Ah ... yeah, I think so. Must have been the wind," he told Chuck, trying to sound brave. His knees were knocking together, and his heart was doing little flip-flops. "Come on. Let's get it and get outta here." They swung the door in, and the hinge let out a long, creepy groan, just like you'd hear in any Scary Movie. Bobby screamed like a Banshee!!! Chuck stumbled down the three steps and slumped against the wall. Bobby lept off the landing and landed on top of Chuck in a heap.

         "Man, oh man, don't scare me like that Bobby!" he said through clenched teeth. "What's up with that stupid door! It's like it's Cursed or something! They sat side by side, staring into the black hole the open doorway made into the attic, catching their breath. After their hearts were beating normally, Bobby said, "Come on, it's probably just warped, that's why it swung in by itself."

         "Yeah, that's probably it," Chuck agreed but with little confidence in his voice. Once again they mounted the steps, and Chuck reached into the left and flicked the light-switch ... nothing. He flicked it up, down, up down, and still no light came on. "Oooh ... I'm starting to feel like this is a bad idea, Bobby. Maybe we should get it later, you know, like when your dad gets home."

         "We cant," Bobby whined. "He won't be home until after 8:00, and the school dance starts at 7:00, and I told Carrie we'd meet her and Linda there at 6:45.

         "Oooh ... ," Chuck said, letting the word out in a whoosh as if Bobby had just told him the most gruesome story. "Well, where exactly in there is your stupid cape," he said, pointing a shaking finger at the black expanse of the attic.

         "It's all the way at the back, inside my mom's old wicker trunk, but there's a hanging light bulb in the middle of the room. If we make it that far, we'll have light," Bobby offered, trying to sound hopeful.

         They took two steps into the abyss, and Chuck yelled, "Knock it off, ya creep. I'm scared enough without you grabbing my leg trying to freak me out of my skin!"

         "What are ya talking about, I never touched you at all." They both froze ...

         "What's that noise?" Chuck cried.

         "I don't know," Bobby said. His palms and forehead were sweating now. There was a definite sound, but not one you could put your finger on. It was sort of a cross between scurrying mice and someone dragging their fingernails down glass, and it was beginning to feel like a regular Creepshow in there. They walked on, arms linked, hands outstretched, and then, Bobby felt the long string hanging down from the light fixture. He gave it a quick tug. A dim light filled the room, projecting all manner of shapes onto the walls and shelves that filled the attic. The bulb swayed from side to side, creating the illusion of movement. Both of them stared straight ahead at what appeared to be a pair of giant Gargoyles sitting atop an old rickety bookcase. Then their eyes adjusted to the light, and they saw it was nothing more than a collection of heaped up books and other long forgotten items.

         "There's the trunk," Bobby cried, his voice ringing with glee. They both sprinted across the room, and dropped down to their knees in front of the old relic. Bobby fumbled with the latch.

         "Come on, come on! " Chuck badgered him. "It's creepier than heck in here!"

         "Yeah well, you're yelling at me isn't gonna help!" Finally, he managed to get the latch undone, and he lifted the lid. A waft of stale, musty air drifted up, assaulting their noses. "Oh, man, that's awful!" He reached in and felt around, but the light was to dim to see the contents of the trunk. His fingers touched the satiny-smooth lining of the cape. Suddenly, he felt a cold, slimy, dead-feeling thing latch on to his wrist. "Eeeee ...!" Bobby screamed. Chuck thought for sure at least one of his ear drums had ruptured. Bobby yanked backwards, and he flew into Chuck. Once again, he landed on top of his friend in a frightened heap. A box of old Lincoln-Logs spilled off the top of the shelf they had tumbled into, raining down on them. Both boys scrambled to their feet, pushing, shoving and tearing at each other in an attempt to get to the door. The round logs sending them slipping and sliding, like a couple of drunk ice skaters. Bobby reached the door first, and he catapulted himself down the steps. Chuck came flying out next, and as he grabbed the handle of the door to slam it behind him, he felt what he would later describe as fingernails, rake down his back. They both ran down the hall and collapsed at the top of the stairs.

         "What's all that ruckus, boys?" Bobbie's mom called up the steps. "Sounds like a herd of wild elephants! Did you find your cape?"

         "Nah," Bobby told her. "We decided were too old for this Halloween junk."

         "That's right, Mrs. C. That stuffs for babies. We're just gonna stay in, watch some movies," only nothing scary, he thought with a shudder, "and eat all the leftover candy."

         "Suit yourself boys, but try not to bust up the place, would ya?"

         Bobby and Chuck never went out that Halloween night, or any other Halloween night, because they both knew, about vampires, you see, They Only Come Out At Night!

         Moooh ... Haaa ...Haaa!