| Biographical Non-Fiction posted September 26, 2022 |
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Two memorable trick-or-treat tales.
A Halloween story
by Mary Vigasin
With over 500 apartments in two public housing projects, we, kids on Halloween, would trick or treat like a swarm of locusts, hitting as many apartments as the time allowed.
While for several Halloweens, I may have knocked on the doors of hundreds of apartments. All these years later, two trick-or-treat visits still stand out.
The first was when I knocked on the door, and the oldest lady I had ever seen, answered. I thought her face, with so many wrinkles, would crack even more when she smiled at us.
Her white hair was kept in place in a hair net. She stood on thick legs and wearing old slippers broken down at the heels. A blue-flowered bib apron covered her purple housecoat. Leaning on a cane and hands shaking badly, rather than candy, she gave each of us five pennies. She must have been saving all year to provide us with all those pennies.
I used my pennies to buy penny candy.
Having strayed far from my yard, I could not remember where her apartment was, so I could not return to trick or treat her the following year.
The second memorable Halloween visit was in my yard with the building across the yard. It was Mrs. Jones's apartment. Mrs. Jones, according to gossiping mothers, had frequent boyfriends.
We knocked on her door, and it then opened into complete darkness. Admittedly, we were puzzled and stood there just looking at each other, trying to figure out what was happening. Suddenly, Frankenstein jumped out of the darkness. The screams from the kids echoed through the stone and steel hallway.
Now I hate loud noises, even to hear my own scream; all I could do was choke up a cough and run down the stairs with the other screaming kids. We left Frankenstein holding candy bars in his hands.
I returned to Mrs. Jones's apartment the following year to trick or treat. Having matured to age nine, I knew I could easily confront any ghoul or goblin that jumped out of her apartment.
When I knocked at the door, it opened, and there was no goblin or ghoul, just Mrs. Jones giving out candy.
Apparently, the Halloween candy lasted longer than the boyfriend.
With over 500 apartments in two public housing projects, we, kids on Halloween, would trick or treat like a swarm of locusts, hitting as many apartments as the time allowed.
While for several Halloweens, I may have knocked on the doors of hundreds of apartments. All these years later, two trick-or-treat visits still stand out.
The first was when I knocked on the door, and the oldest lady I had ever seen, answered. I thought her face, with so many wrinkles, would crack even more when she smiled at us.
Her white hair was kept in place in a hair net. She stood on thick legs and wearing old slippers broken down at the heels. A blue-flowered bib apron covered her purple housecoat. Leaning on a cane and hands shaking badly, rather than candy, she gave each of us five pennies. She must have been saving all year to provide us with all those pennies.
I used my pennies to buy penny candy.
Having strayed far from my yard, I could not remember where her apartment was, so I could not return to trick or treat her the following year.
The second memorable Halloween visit was in my yard with the building across the yard. It was Mrs. Jones's apartment. Mrs. Jones, according to gossiping mothers, had frequent boyfriends.
We knocked on her door, and it then opened into complete darkness. Admittedly, we were puzzled and stood there just looking at each other, trying to figure out what was happening. Suddenly, Frankenstein jumped out of the darkness. The screams from the kids echoed through the stone and steel hallway.
Now I hate loud noises, even to hear my own scream; all I could do was choke up a cough and run down the stairs with the other screaming kids. We left Frankenstein holding candy bars in his hands.
I returned to Mrs. Jones's apartment the following year to trick or treat. Having matured to age nine, I knew I could easily confront any ghoul or goblin that jumped out of her apartment.
When I knocked at the door, it opened, and there was no goblin or ghoul, just Mrs. Jones giving out candy.
Apparently, the Halloween candy lasted longer than the boyfriend.
 Recognized |
#54 September 2022 |
The only change was Mrs. Jones's name.
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