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Trick or Treat
“It’s a terrible trick for God to allow it to rain on Halloween.”
Tiny was frowning as she poured a handful of candy corn into her mouth. “I mean, I get it. Most years the weather is awesome, right, so I guess that’s the treat. But when we get the trick…”
Tiny, Gracey, and the Prime of Darkness sat huddled together on the porch swing, listening to the rain fall in heavy sheets, waiting for the neighborhood kids to come beg for candy. Gracey was dressed as Rainbow Brite; Tiny, dressed as a belly dancer, had succumbed to the cold and damp and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. The demon wore what he always wore — a molded chest plate of indeterminate material, black leather pants, motorcycle boots, spiked metal pauldrons, and a red cape. He had a plastic cauldron filled with candy balanced on his lap. The flames from the line of jack-o-lanterns perched jauntily on the porch rail threw dancing shadows on the walls of the old house until an ill wind swept through and extinguished half the candles.
It was a miserable Halloween.
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Gracey said, chewing a Tootsie Roll. “Don’t you remember going trick or treating in the rain, running through the puddles and laughing when your makeup melted into streaks down your face? I remember,” Gracey smiled. “I remember … I wasn’t quite sixteen so you must have been about six. You were a fairy princess. It was raining that year, and Mom and Dad wouldn’t let you wear the ballet slippers that went with your outfit. They made you wear boots, and you threw a fit because you said fairies don’t wear boots.”
“Well, they don’t,” Tiny interrupted. “I mean, I was just a kid but I was going for verisimilitude.”
“Actually,” Darkness said, his face drawn, “I don’t think fairies exist at all.”
The sisters exchanged exasperated looks.
“Anyway, you were mad about the boots, and then when we got outside you were mad about the rain. It smudged your makeup. So you started crying and carrying on until I told you to just tell people you were a Rambo fairy.”
“Oh my God,” Tiny breathed, eyes wide. “I do remember that! You said I looked like Rambo, but I didn’t know who that was. But I did what you said, and everyone laughed and said I looked awesome. Like I planned it.” She grinned, dug into the cauldron on Prime of Darkness’s lap. “Ooh, Butterfinger,” she purred, ripping off the wrapper.
A small group of kids bounded up the gravel drive, making their way to the porch. They were squealing with laughter, their costumes invisible beneath their rain slickers. They produced their candy bags and sang out a chorus of “Trick or treat!”, their smiling, ruined faces upturned and glowing.
The Prime of Darkness reached into the cauldron and grabbed a large handful of candy, dropping pieces into the children’s bags. One of the little boys in front, who might have been dressed as a cowboy, looked Darkness up and down with appreciation. “What are you?”
The demon smiled. “I am a Prime of Darkness.”
The boy cocked his head to the side in confusion. “What’s a prime of darkness?”
The Prime of Darkness faltered. It was a question he wasn’t sure how to answer, not to a child to whom he couldn’t possibly reveal the whole truth. On the other hand, he was incapable of lying. It posed a small dilemma. “Well, it’s a kind of soldier,” he said, after the uncertain pause. “A top soldier, above an ace or a deuce. But, just a soldier. That’s all.”
The boy didn’t look satisfied, but more explanation would have meant less time to acquire as much candy as possible, and his friends were already growing antsy. “Cool costume,” the boy said. “Thank you!” A disingenuous chorus of obligatory thank-yous followed, and the children took off toward the next house.
The wind picked up, and Tiny pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Gracey noticed, took a motherly interest. “Tiny, you should go in the house and put on a sweater or something. You’re shivering,” she said.
“I’m all right.” The redhead shrugged beneath the blanket. “It’s mood weather. We gonna watch a movie tonight?”
“What do we have?” The Prime of Darkness unwrapped a roll of Smarties and began popping them into his mouth.
Tiny counted the movies on her fingers. “Army of Darkness—I got that for you, Darkness, you’ll love it—Serpent and the Rainbow and, my personal favorite, Shaun of the Dead. And I even made caramel popcorn,” Tiny said, smiling.
“I made the popcorn,” Gracey corrected. “You sat on the counter and stuck your fingers in the caramel.”
“I kept you company,” Tiny said.
Another group of children approached, these wearing masks. When they arrived on the porch, they thrust their bags out before them and shouted, “Trick or treat!” It was more a demand than a pleasantry.
The Prime of Darkness handed out the candies, and two of the three kids muttered “Thank you” as they ran away. But the third stayed behind and removed his mask. It was Marco.
“Hey, Marco,” Gracey said, smiling. “Your costume is great; what are you?”
“A demonic overlord,” he said. The mask in his hand was a metallic orange with a pointy chin and horns. He wore a simple black tunic and glow-in-the-dark skeleton gloves.
The Prime of Darkness made a face. “You know, there isn’t exactly — ”
But Gracey placed a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. The demon took this as a cue to discontinue that thought. “Well, you look great,” Darkness finished.
If Marco noticed the exchange, he didn’t let on. He was looking at the Prime of Darkness with concern. “You’re not wearing a costume,” he said finally.
“Oh!” The Prime of Darkness leaned back into the porch swing, clearly taken aback. “Ah. Well, this is a costume,” he said. Even in the dim light, his pauldrons gleamed.
But Marco shook his head. “You wear that every day. On Halloween, you’re supposed to be something else.”
The Prime of Darkness crossed his arms over his chest. “Why?”
“It’s fun.”
The demon and the boy stood in silence, examining each other in earnest. After a moment, Marco took a sheepish step forward. “Well, here,” he said, handing the mask to the demon. “You can have that. You have to wear something,” he said.
Tentatively, with a strange feeling in his chest, the demon accepted the proffered mask and carefully fixed it over his face. It was a little snug, but the eye holes were big enough. “Thank you,” he said. His voice came out muffled.
“My name’s Marco,” the boy said, holding out a hand.
The strange feeling in the demon’s chest grew until it pressed against his lungs. Something caught in his throat. The Prime of Darkness accepted Marco’s gesture, and the two demons, one makeshift and the other not so much, shook hands. “I’m a Prime of Darkness,” he said for the second time that evening. “Ah, you can just call me Darkness.”
Marco smiled, his eyes flicking briefly to Gracey. He saw that she was grinning.
Without another word, he took off. He had some catching up to do.
When Marco was gone, Gracey turned to Darkness and admired his mask. “Pretty,” she said. “Looks like you made a friend.” She was still grinning.
The demon nodded. “Guess I did,” he said, his voice curiously soft.
The strange feeling in his chest was still there. After a moment, he realized the feeling was tenderness.
He didn’t take the mask off all night.
April 5th, 2010
In two spots soldier is written in as “solider”.
Really enjoying the story, and pleased to see that Marco and Darkness have now officially met.
April 5th, 2010
Thanks for the catch, Cathi! Glad you’re enjoying the story, and thanks for the comment