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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/832635-Day-10---Thirteen-Days-of-Halloween
Rated: 13+ · Book · Other · #1994181
This collection contains writings for the I Write - 2014 Challenges and the miscellaneous
#832635 added October 29, 2014 at 10:32am
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Day 10 - Thirteen Days of Halloween
I entered the costume shop warily behind my friend, Marisa. She had heard of this shop and had been dying to come check it out. With Halloween only a few nights off she insisted I needed a costume and she was more than happy to change hers if she found something more appealing.

The shop itself was dark with a hint of musty hanging in the air. I rubbed at my nose a moment to minimize the smell as I looked about me. Costumes mounted the twelve foot walls hanging at a variety of heights. Their colours mostly black, but a few bold oranges, purples, reds and yellows screamed out from the forray.

The ceiling had chandeliers hanging but their brilliance was muted by the dust that held to each of its lights and crystal pieces. They were oddly ghoulish in this space. Their intricate bobbles as cold as ice. A tremor ran through me and I force my gaze back to find that Marisa had moved into the back of the shop. I moved towards her following the muffled sound of voices that whispered around me. When I caught up to Marisa she was talking quite animatedly to a short shopkeeper who propped his stooped, crooked little frame on top of a stool. It seemed to be holding him up. His eyes were glassy as he gazed at Marisa.

A feeling of forebodding enveloped me and I felt shaken, unable to move from my spot. The other voices I heard continued to mutter and whisper but when I looked about I saw nothing or nobody else.

"Two costumes you say." The little hunched man said, his voice croaky with rust and disuse. He lumbered off his stool and shuffled with a twisted gate after her. I wondered how he even manged to work here.

Marisa pointed out a few she liked asking to try some of them on but the man seemed to not be listening to her. His eyes moved along the wall of costumes. I could swear he was listening to them.

"The costumes will fit you.... no need to try them on." He croaked again moving along the walls slowly his gnarled hands held up as if feeling for something.

Marisa ignored him chattering on, but I watched frozen to my spot my eyes glued to the man as the costumes began to tremble. The whispered muttering increased and I looked to Marisa. She didn't seem to be hearing anything beyond her own dialogue.

Looking back at the man, I noted that he had stopped and was staring at the top of the costumes displayed. I followed his gaze and watched as a gauzy, black taffeta gown rippled then seemed to slip from its morings and fall into the man's outstretched arms.

"This will suit you." He croaked out at Marisa cutting off her chatter.

Her silence stilled the room, like it was waiting for her approval. She moved towards the little man and reached out to feel the costumes voluminous skirting. A smile rose up from her confusion and she nodded. "Perfect." she said.

As Marisa moved into the back to try on her costume.... what looked to be a gothic, death princess complete with tiara and black lace gloves, the little man edged over to me. His eyes peered at me as he tilted his head.

"You are not so easy..." He croaked out, then pressed his lips together.

The room began to fill with muttered whispering again, but this time it was duller almost uncertain.

"They are not sure..." The little man croaked, then leaned in and grabbed my wrist firmly. I went to pull back but he latched on tighter and closed his eyes, saying "He fights it..."

"Fight's what?" I asked watching him with a swirling sense of dread pulsing around me.

"The costumes call out their stories. They ask to be taken and worn... but you.... You perplex them...."

"I what?" I managed to squawk out.

"You will need a stronger costume...."

"No... no that is fine. I don't need a costume."

The little man's eyes flew open and he stared into mine with such a look of menace my breath froze in my lungs. "We all need costumes." He croaked out fiercely.

I forced my eyes from his penetrating gaze and retched my arm from his grasp. Rushing to the rear of the store I flung open the door to Marisa's change room. "We have to go." I shouted.

One of her legs was poised to go into the gown as she looked at me. "What are you talking about these costumes are fabulous."
"Don't put it on, Marisa. Please, just let it go!" I pleaded with her.

But she only shook her head moving her leg a little further into the gown. It seemed to move up onto her.

There was no more time for words, grabbing her in only her underwear I dragged her and her purse from the room. The dress clung to her leg as I dragged her roughly.

Marisa gave a muffled scream as I set her off balance. "What the hell..." she yelled.

I dragged her out the way we have come. The little man stood solid in the center of the shop. He would not move. Plowing forward, something told me our only escape was out the front door.

"You must pick a costume... Your party is waiting for you..." He croaked as the room seemed to shake with menace. He raised his hand and pointed to a door at the back of the shop. Music throbbed through it and I felt Marisa's resistance. Still, I clung to her and moved forward. I was fully prepared to run him over if necessary.

"The party..." She pleaded with hysterical sobs.

"No!" I roared. "No party, Marisa. We need to get out of here."

She sobbed but seemed to relent just as I lunged forward into the man. He fell off to the side yet grabbed for Marisa as we passed. I felt the great pull but upper my own strengh finally managing to make it to the door.

A last pull and we were released, the force throwing us out onto the street. Looking back, I noticed the bruising on Marisa's leg. Purple black. Dark and deadly. I needed to get her to the hospital and away from here. Covering her with my jacket I ran and never looked back.
I was never going costume shopping again.

Words = 1084

Day 10 - ▼
"Clothes make a statement. Costumes tell a story." ~Mason Cooley What story will your costume tell? Write a short story or poem about it.
This prompt has been more difficult because I am not a huge fan of dressing up.... I love Halloween, but not having to wear a costume.


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