Happy Halloween

Everyone talks about midnight being "The witching hour" but I've never understood what's so great about midnight. Lots of people are still awake at midnight and there's nothing witching about it. Now a time when everyone is asleep is 3 am. Even those up to no good have cleared the streets by then and all the good people of the world have been in bed for hours. No one has any business being awake at 3 am unless you're a child at a slumber party trying to pull an all-nighter with your friends. Most young girls do this sort of thing as though it were a right of passage.

I remember being 12 years old at my first ever sleep-over party. Sara, our hostess had planned out several ways to keep us entertained the whole night. We had jumped on the bed while singing along with the Spice Girls and the Backstreet Boys, done make-overs and of course engaged in what counts for juicy gossip among 12 year old girls. Around 10 o'clock it was time to roll out our sleeping bags in the living room and pop in Titanic. By the end of the movie two of the girls were sharing tissues and one was sobbing uncontrollably at the demise of our beloved Leonardo.

By that time Sara's mother had fallen asleep and we were once again given free roam of the house under the condition that the lights had to be off and we had to be quiet so as not to wake her. That was when Sara brought out the flashlight and passed it around for scary stories. They were the usual stories about telephones ringing and no one on the other end or babysitters hearing knocking at their windows. Even though the stories wouldn't be enough to evict even a slight shiver out of me now I'll admit that at the time shivers were being sent up my spine.

We were all well and truly freaked out and when the grandfather-clock in the hall rang loudly three times, marking that we had almost made it through our planned all nighter. I remember an unsettling feeling washed over us as we entered the hour. It was like a forbidden gateway we had crossed into and there would be no turning back. We tried to continue with our merriment but as the flashlight was passed to Lauren for her turn it flickered and died. The last chime of the grandfather clock sounded the loudest, almost as though it were punctuating the sentence the dead flashlight had written. I remember we huddled together at that point as our eyes adjusted to this new form of darkness. A loud shrieking sound emanated from the kitchen, looking back on it it was probably only Jasper, Sara's cat, tormenting a mole who had found his way into the house as moles often do seeking warmth in the late autumn. At the time however I was sure the shrieks were caused by the poor victim of whatever it was we saw moments later.

The hall leading out of the living room held the stairs, and beneath those was the door to the basement. Our eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough and Jessica pointed to it silently as the basement door slowly swung open on it's hinges. None of us dared to move as the sound of loud footsteps slowly made their way up the stairs. A large figure. in the shape of a man but with grotesquely long arms and hulking shoulders made it's way up those stairs. We were all to afraid to even scream and I remember only hearing the sound of the creatures ragged breath and the sound of my own heartbeat ringing in my ears loud and fast. The creature dragged its hands on the floor making an odd scraping sound when it walked. But it was walking away from us and towards the front door. As it swung open the front door and we saw the empty suburban streets glowing with lamplight Lauren let out a quiet sigh of relief that made the creature stop, for only a second, beofre it walked out into the night. Somehow I knew it was coming back, and that we didn't want to be awake when it did. Everyone agreed and we slid quietly into our sleeping bags and prepared for a night of fitful sleep.

Sara's mother always liked to watch the news in the morning and as we slid sleepily into our chairs at the kitchen table to be served blueberry pancakes we couldn't help but notice the story they had for us that morning. A local drug dealer had been found dead in the neighborhood next to Sara's. His neck had been snapped and his limbs were twisted around all the wrong ways. Sara's mother turned off the TV, saying we didn't need to see that sort of thing.

No one has any business being out at 3 am. But those that find themselves unfortunate enough to be walking the streets at hat dark hour better be careful, there are hunters out there.