Death of a Wicked Witch. Lee Hollis
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it hurtling down on this webby thing to scare them!”
“Does it still work?”
“I think so. It may need some batteries.”
Conner set the spider down and stepped out into the driveway to join her. “I also found some cool-looking skeletons I could put up there as well that you can see from the street as you’re driving by. Do you have a ladder?”
“There’s one in the garage, opposite corner, but wait until Bruce gets home so he can help you,” Hayley said, heading inside.
Conner dashed back into the garage.
Hayley entered the kitchen through the back door to find Gemma almost finished carving a jack-o’-lantern. Hayley couldn’t help but smile as she instantly recognized the face of Harry Potter. Ever since Gemma was a little girl, she had made it an annual tradition to carve her pumpkin into the likeness of her favorite literary character, and she still paid homage to him every Halloween to this day. Gemma was attaching the round glasses to his face as Hayley leaned down to inspect her work.
“You really outdid yourself this year,” Hayley said.
“You think so? I feel like I’m losing my touch. The older I’ve gotten, the more I seem to just want to get it done, like I totally rushed doing his nose. That’s more of a Lord Voldemort nose rather than a Harry Potter nose. Anyway, I’m not going to worry about it. I should get dinner started.”
“You can relax. Bruce is taking us out tonight,” Hayley said.
“Oh, that’s nice of him,” Gemma said before turning to look out the window where Conner had just set a metal ladder against the side of the house. “What’s he doing?”
“He discovered a box of your father’s old Halloween decorations and got inspired,” Hayley said.
Conner climbed the ladder, the giant furry spider underneath one arm, past the window.
Hayley leaned against the sink, concerned. “I told him to wait for Bruce to get home so he could help him, but he’s too excited.”
Gemma opened the window and called out to Conner, who they could now hear stomping across the roof above them. “Conner, why don’t you wait until Bruce gets home to do that?”
“Don’t worry! I got this!” he called down.
“Well, be careful!” Gemma said, shaking her head and closing the window. “He can be so stubborn.”
“Have you talked to him yet?”
“No,” Gemma sighed. “I haven’t been able to find the right moment. He’s really having a good time here and I don’t want to ruin it. I’ll probably wait until we’re back in New York.”
Gemma jumped, startled at the sight of the giant furry spider bobbing up and down in front of the kitchen window in front of them as Conner worked to attach it to the roof.
Hayley couldn’t help but laugh.
“He’s like a big kid,” Gemma said, smiling. But then the smile faded and she became more serious. “I just hate the idea of hurting him.”
Hayley put a comforting arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Well, you don’t have to do anything tonight. Let’s just go out, the four of us, and have a nice dinner.”
“Where’s Bruce taking us?”
“You can ask him yourself. He just pulled in,” Hayley said as Bruce’s car rolled to a stop in the driveway behind her parked Kia.
Before Bruce had the chance to even step out of his car, suddenly they heard a man scream, some stumbling sounds on the roof, and then Conner’s body fell from the sky, landing hard on the hood of Bruce’s car.
Island Food & Spirits
BY
H AYLEY POWELL
There are two things that I have loved for as long as I can remember: Halloween and sandwiches. And not necessarily in that order. Well, you can imagine how excited I was when a new food truck called Wicked ’Wiches (as in sandwiches) rolled into town in early October just a few weeks shy of my favorite holiday. And let me tell you, the awesome assortment of subs and wraps and paninis on the menu did not disappoint!
Of course as I am known to do, I immediately raced home after trying a few and attempted to recreate them in my own kitchen, especially with that new husband of mine who, like me, loves to eat. It’s really our secret to a successful marriage: matching appetites!
What we don’t share is a love of Halloween. Truth be told, Bruce hates it. Every year he complains about the town going to H-E-double hockey sticks! Kids running around throwing eggs and spraying shaving cream and generally on a mission to scare people. Not to mention all the dentist bills people have to pay when their kids get cavities from all that sugary candy! Bruce gets so grumpy this time of year I call him Halloween Scrooge.
This all might have something to do with an episode that happened a few years ago when Bruce accompanied me to the annual Cross House of Horrors, a makeshift haunted house sponsored by a now sadly deceased local resident, master of horror novelist Norman Cross. The haunted house, open in early October through Halloween, was, to put it mildly, a fright fest with college kids hired to play monsters, evil spirits, and movie serial killers.
Well, suffice it to say, Bruce, who scares rather easily, did not enjoy the heart-stopping experience at all. And since I was the one who had dragged him there, the blame was placed squarely on my shoulders.
So last Halloween, when Bruce and I had officially begun dating, I had one of those lightbulb moments. I came up with the idea of treating Bruce to a Haunted Hayride. Now I know what you’re all thinking: Hayley, why on earth would you subject your poor husband-to-be to something like that knowing how much he hates to be scared? Well, here’s the thing. The Haunted Hayride, which was organized and run by the Southwest Fire Department, was what you would call “family friendly,” which means it was designed for children of all ages. I knew there would be nothing too spine-chilling that might put a strain on Bruce’s heart.
Bruce balked at first, but after quickly explaining how he would be among five-year-olds, and with the bribe of bringing some homemade Italian subs and a thermos of cocktails to enjoy after the ride, Bruce finally got on board.
Literally.
After standing in a long line of people to purchase tickets, we were escorted to a large wooden wagon decked out with hay-bale seats, spider webs, and hanging lanterns. The wagon was hitched up to a tractor trailer driven by a headless horseman. Nothing too frightening. Bruce even laughed at the headless horseman and said he might go as one next year. I was ecstatic he was finally getting into the Halloween spirit.
As the tractor lurched forward, Bruce grabbed my hand and appeared slightly nervous as we headed toward an opening in the woods dimly lit by eerily glowing lanterns. I leaned in and whispered in Bruce’s ear, “Don’t worry. It’s all going to be very G-rated, nothing too spooky. Maybe a cardboard cutout of Casper the Friendly Ghost.”
My first clue that something was amiss was when I looked around at everyone else in the wagon and didn’t see any small children, just adults and a few raucous teenagers. I turned to the woman sitting on my other side and casually mentioned that I found it strange that there weren’t more kids on such a family friendly ride. The woman laughed and noted, “What parent in their right mind would bring a child on this ride tonight of all nights?” When I asked what she meant, the woman informed me that tonight was the special “Adults-Only” ride. You had to be at least sixteen years old to come on board because the scares in store were too dark and horrifying for little kids. She excitedly added, “And I’ve heard this year is the most hair-raising ride yet!”
I wanted to grab Bruce and jump out of the wagon, but it was too late. We were already deep inside the dark woods. Suddenly ear-splitting screams and eerie music were blasting out of speakers strategically placed around us. Then, bloodthirsty