The Widows of Ware

The Widows of Ware

         

         The town of Ware was situated on the outskirts of a national forest in the Pacific Northwest.  This humble community resembled most larger towns except everything was kept to a minimum.  No need for an endless strip of road filled with various fast food chains and retail stores.  Nope, just a tiny market square right smack dab in the center of it all.  When it came to dining out you had the Redwood Diner.  That’s it, but the food was so tasty there that nobody cared to search for something more desirable.  About two hundred homes comprised the town and each looked exactly alike.  From the tops of their chimneys to the ends of their cobblestone driveways.  To look at them from the outside, it would appear as if no one had it better than the other here.

         The residents of Ware led a rather monotonous existence.  For the better part of the year they would go about their daily routines without much distraction.  However, that all changed as Halloween drew near.  That’s when the town took on a new life.  Both children and adults became abuzz with activity.  Children rejoiced in choosing the perfect costume to wear.  Once selected, mothers got busy cutting and sewing.  Fathers lunged into a decorating frenzy.  Halloween was their time to shine; to break out of the box and be different than their neighbor.  Yards became temporary graveyards with unsavory characters such as Rusty Bones and Ghoulish Gus buried there.  Trees became hangouts for ghosts and bats.  Patios became the final resting place for pumpkins, where they’d stay until they decayed.  Yep, Halloween was big business in Ware.  So far, no one had dared to monkey with that tradition.

         As with most things in life there were exceptions and Ware was no different.  Here, those exceptions were defined as four elderly women known collectively as the Widows.  There’s the widow Curtain, the widow Ross, the widow Dane and the widow Huff.  These women, who rarely left the comforts of their own homes, met every Friday night at the widow Curtain’s place.  Here they'd sip hot tea, munch on bear claws and talk to their dead husbands.  It just so happened that this year Halloween fell on a Friday.  Bad news for the widows, who loathed the holiday. 

         As darkness settled in the four women gathered at a window in the den.  Their pasty, withered faces cold and expressionless.  They watched as the children and adult chaperones poured out of their homes.  The shrieks of delight sent chills down each widow’s spine.  The widow Curtain turned to her friends.  They formed a circle and grasped hands.  They closed their eyes and chanted:

         “Oh, what a fright!  It’s Halloween night!  Halloween night! 
                Our journey has been a long haul,
                no longer welcome at all. 
                We followed the book to the letter,
                in hopes we feel better. 
                There’s not much we ask,
                we wish to join in the task. 
                Have those frozen in darkness spring forth with life;
                be fueled by revenge, animosity and spite.
                And give the townspeople of Ware a delightful scare!“ 

         What began as a warm and calm night changed not a moment later.  The clear, dark skies became cloudy.  The air began to cool and a slight breeze stirred the fallen leaves.  In the excitement, no one noticed that the witch decoration smashed against the side of Miller family home had started to move.  The witch peeled herself off of the siding.  She fell to the ground and landed with a thud.  She twisted and bent until back in shape.  It wasn't perfect.  Her left foot pointed south and her nose was pressed against her cheek but it’d have to do.  She took hold of her broom and mounted it.  She pointed and zoomed skyward.  The broom zagged when it should have zigged and the witch ended up smashed against the side of the house two doors down.  The broom crumbled into pieces.  A defeated moan escaped her lips.

         As Mrs. Rodgers answered her front door for a lone candy seeker, she was confronted by a furry beast that looked a little too much like the real thing.  Her mouth dropped open and before a scream could escape she threw up the candy bowl, slammed the door shut and turned out the porch light.

         Down on Krinkle Street, two teenaged boys rounded a corner and met up with a wobbly skeleton trying its best to stay upright.  Their sneakers squeaked as they came to a sudden halt.  The boys exchanged frightful glances.  One noticed a pumpkin sitting on a fence post.  He snatched it up and hurled it at the skeleton.  Had there been eyes in those sockets, no doubt they would have widened in horror.  The pumpkin connected with the skeleton’s ribcage and all the bones dislocated and fell to the pavement.  The boys high-fived each other and hustled down the street.

         Along the way, the boys watched as Mr. Jacob and Mr. Jerrett pulled the stuffing out of a scarecrow they had pinned to the ground.  They witnessed Mrs. Seymour pick up a moving severed hand and drop it into a boiling cauldron on her front porch.  Down at the Carter home, the ghosts unhooked themselves from the tree branches and headed for a crowd of trick-or-treaters.  Across the street, the hanging bats did the same and set their sights on another group. 

         The boys joined in as everyone fought off the swarm that had gathered.  The majorette twirled her baton and sent a few bats for a loop.  The cowboy aimed his gun at a ghost and hit his mark.  The magician pointed his wand and made a handful disappear.  The ninja utilized his nun chucks and knocked a few bats out cold.  The entomologist swung his net and caught a few more.  All worked together until every last decoration had been defeated.  They all cheered in victory.

         Minutes later, the back door of the widow Curtain’s house creaked open.  The widow Curtain was the first to hobble in.  She moved at a snail's pace over to the couch and crashed into it.  Her left foot pointed south and her nose was slightly askew.  Next to drag herself in was the widow Dane.  Hay is entangled in her hair and her clothes are tattered.  She fell into the recliner.  The widow Ross crawled in next.  Every bone in her body ached.  Lastly, the widow Huff entered.  She held onto her right red and swollen hand.  Both women collapsed onto the floor next to the couch. 

         Nope, it would be best not to mess with tradition in the town of Ware.