Halloween stories

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ozarkram

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Do you have any? I remember the last year my brother went trick or treating. He is about 3 years younger than me so he was probably 6 or 7. Dad cut us off trick or treating pretty young. Had to grow up stop all that foolishness. Anyway he and 2 or 3 friends dressed up got pillow cases for bags and went out. Me and my buddies were out just walking around checking it all out. Saw my brother a few times and they were dragging their pillow cases they were so full of candy. I thought dam those kids are cleaning up. Some time later here comes my brother and his friend crying and wailing some older kids had done a smash and grab took all their candy. Poor kid we got them new bags but they were not able to get back what they had.
 

Selassie I

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It's a shame that kids today can't have the fun we used to have going out and Trick or Treating. People today are just too fearful of so much. They probably need to be, but damn.

I'll get a few of our local neighbor kids to stop by tonight... there won't be that many though. I used to basically just have the front door open for about 3 to 4 hours because of the large numbers of kids coming up to the door. Now, I'll probably have the doorbell ring 5 or 6 TIMES all night. I still live in the exact same house too.


BTW... Is anyone else seeing bats fly around on their screen? o_O
 

coconut

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Do you have any? I remember the last year my brother went trick or treating. He is about 3 years younger than me so he was probably 6 or 7. Dad cut us off trick or treating pretty young. Had to grow up stop all that foolishness. Anyway he and 2 or 3 friends dressed up got pillow cases for bags and went out. Me and my buddies were out just walking around checking it all out. Saw my brother a few times and they were dragging their pillow cases they were so full of candy. I thought dam those kids are cleaning up. Some time later here comes my brother and his friend crying and wailing some older kids had done a smash and grab took all their candy. Poor kid we got them new bags but they were not able to get back what they had.
Thank you for that uplifting story soon to be on the Hallmark Channel.
 

Farr Be It

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We moved from Minnesota to Tucson October 31st of ‘72. The four of us kids were bummed as we got to the house late in the afternoon and thought it was too late to trick or treat.

I stayed back at the house with dad, while my mom and siblings went up to the drug store to grab a few things.

While I tossed the ball around with dad, back come the gang, and everyone was excited.

Turns out mom found the last few straggler costumes on the shelf.

The two girls had to wear Raggedy Ann costumes and my brother - later to become a bandwagon whiner fan- and I both had to go as Uncle Sam.:ROFLMAO:

Good times. Got to meet the neighbors too.
 

coconut

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It's a shame that kids today can't have the fun we used to have going out and Trick or Treating. People today are just too fearful of so much. They probably need to be, but damn.

I'll get a few of our local neighbor kids to stop by tonight... there won't be that many though. I used to basically just have the front door open for about 3 to 4 hours because of the large numbers of kids coming up to the door. Now, I'll probably have the doorbell ring 5 or 6 TIMES all night. I still live in the exact same house too.


BTW... Is anyone else seeing bats fly around on their screen? o_O
Yeah it's likely only 5 -10 times my doorbell rings maybe less with the crappy weather we're getting.
Don't worry because those are FAKE BATS! Bats are brown or gray.
 

Angry Ram

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Yeah, in 3rd grade I had the flu and diarrhea and STILL went to get my candy.

Today's kiddies would be isolated in a bubble ball while their soccer mom rolls them in a stupid trunk or treat event organized by the other soccer moms in the HOA, in a parking lot, in broad daylight, for a "safe and nurturing environment".

WTF is that?
 

Loyal

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A Halloween Bus Ride (XYZ Form)

A Halloween Night on the road is like any other when that’s what you do. Bus driving is what I mean, and I have done it for many years. Calling the people to gate 9 at 10:45 pm, I loaded the coach for Salt Lake City, by way of Boise. Driving a bus has always been an interesting way to meet desperate people, since for most people a bus trip is the last way they want to travel. Especially on a night when many are having fun at parties, the ten people on the bus and myself would forget that and make our way across Oregon by moonlight with the herds of semis headed for points east.

Foster seemed like a nice guy in the front seat, telling me about his stay in Portland and of the fun things that he had done which included a visit to a show.

“Gun and knife show at the Expo Center,” he said. “Hey, you wanna see the knife I bought?” he asked. In the soft blue night light and the disjointed snoring, I told him with a shrug that I guess that would be alright, however strange the question seemed. Just then, my peripheral vision saw a fist gripping the hilt of a knife, sheathed in a foot-long steel scabbard with nicks and a small dent on the outside of it.

“Killer, isn’t it?” he said.

Looking at the thing a little too long, the bus drifted over the rumple strips a bit until I centered the 25-ton vehicle in the lane again. Mindfully looking in my over- head mirror, the jumble of legs stretched across the aisle didn’t move and the sounds of sleep continued. Next, the sound of a steel blade being drawn and pulled free from the scabbard drew my eyes again. Openly turning the scarred blade in his fist this way and that way to catch the light, it was a no-nonsense thing that obviously had been used in desperate ways.

“People whisper in my brain in German when I hold it this way and the words sound like ‘töten sie alle’ or something like that,” he muttered. Queerly, he was silent when I told him that I would feel much more comfortable if it was stowed below in a baggage bin. Riders got off in Pendleton in a transfer to another bus and no new transfers got on, leaving 4 sleeping people and Foster with me.

So we climbed slowly up the six percent grade following switchbacks up the edge of the Blue Mountain ridge in what truckers call Cabbage Hill, smelling the burning brakes of big rigs from flat land states going too fast, towards a mountain pass bathed in ghostly Moon light, avoiding the meaty chunks of deer carcass’ recently killed on the interstate, surrounded by mountain pines and rich grassland sprinkled with October snow, when I considered the meaning of “töten sie alle”: “sie” could mean he, she, it or they, “alle” meant all, “töten”(s) meaning was on the tip of my tongue. “Töten (s) meaning attacked me like Nazi steel when I remembered a t-shirt worn by a German girl in dreadlocks at a Grateful Dead concert back in ’86 that read “Toter Kopf.” Understanding...

Viewing quickly the dimly lit chamber within the bus through the over-head mirror, there was one walking carefully over legs to the front, which from the gloom emerged to be Foster. We were almost to the next stop in sleepy La Grande, where I would remove the knife from the inside of the bus, which I had forgotten to do in Pendleton. Xanax is something that I could have used to calm down at that point, because I realized that I no longer heard any sleeping noises in the bus except the labored breathing from Foster as I pulled the bus in and parked it at the station. You know as a bus driver to shift into park and then to set the air brakes safely, before getting out of the seat, but then a person doesn’t know what to do when his head is pulled back by the hair and the feeling of cold steel comes roughly across his throat.

Zeroing in on last night to answer the detective’s questions, I told him the dull side of the German blade didn’t kill me, which he then asked “Why would a supposed crazy man leave you alive, when he killed everyone else and we find you with the dagger, muttering ‘kill them all?’”
 

ozarkram

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  • Thread Starter Thread Starter
  • #10
“Alone”

By Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—


Source: American Poetry: The Nineteenth Century (1993)


 

Elmgrovegnome

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Jan 23, 2013
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My favorite Halloween poem:

There were three ghosteses
Sitting on posteses
Eating buttered toasteses
Greasing their fisteses
Up to their wristeses
Oh what beasteses
To make such feasteses
 

Elmgrovegnome

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I figured this thread would be full of ghost stories. I have some encounters from my parents house but it is too late for me to type them up. Just recounting them will wake me up too much at this late hour. Maybe I can write about it tomorrow.
 

Farr Be It

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Just recounting them will wake me up too much at this late hour. Maybe I can write about it tomorrow.

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“Too late, Gnomie. Halloween’s over. Gotta wait ‘til next year. “