HOME | DD

Description
At the Appointed Time

I awaken with a start, experiencing déjà vu. My mind  is  flooded with questions. "What day is it? What day? Are they here? Are they safe?" Slowly, as my mind starts swimming  to consciousness, I realize, it's November 1st. I recall now with resigned horror what I can never remember on October 31st. They're gone. Always gone, until, that is, our one day
together, bittersweetly, cursed as it has been every Halloween.

Five years have passed since the terror happened. I'd spent the day putting the finishing touches on the twins' and Emmy's costumes. I've  always loved the holiday, fraught with memories  as it was, with parties, friends coming over to "trick or treat" with me and of course, loads of candy. I had put out the Jack O' Lanterns, the various odd decorations we had collected over the years and the bowl sitting on a chair, on our porch, with the obligatory note "Take One only PLEASE." (Of course, I was never sure that it was heeded, since we were always out ourselves and never found any candy remains, when we arrived home. This year, Emmy was dressing as a witch, Caty, an Indian and Colin, a clown. Sure, the costumes were humble but  I've always been proud that I made them myself. Dinner is always some rushed effort, as excitement overtakes us to get out the front door and begin the fun. That year, it was hot dogs, with some chili on top. We left the house, pillowcases in hand at 6:30, and as early as it was, darkness had already fallen.

I  torment myself, every year,  with the same questions. "Why did we decide THIS  time, to go to an unfamiliar neighborhood? Why didn't I go up to the door of that house? Why did I let them step in?"
OH heaven knows, I SO wish I'd done any of these things differently! If only Kyle (my beloved husband) were alive. If only he hadn't been at the wrong place at the wrong time, when a driver crashed through the red light. Things might have been so very different now. It had only been two years then, since we all had to face our tremendous grief.

We pile into the van, and head for San Marino, having heard that the wealthy owners of those expansive homes were quite generous with their handouts. Why, we had even been told by one of Colie's buddys that a family there, actually gave away silver dollars to expectant trick or treaters. Excited, I  parked the car on a beautiful street, barely getting the engine shut off before the kids piled out the door. I can still feel the anticipation that wafted through the air that night, and reflecting back now, there was also for me, an odd sense of forboddeing. Again, the question,
"Why didn't I follow my instincts?"

Much of the evening was spent walking, talking, being silly with
my babies and eating WAY too much candy along the way. I was getting so tired, not  having worn the best walking  shoes I owned. When we came upon the old Victorian house, I had caught a glimpse of a darkly, beautiful woman, peering through heavy drapes, smiling. It seemed like such a warm smile, and her pale skin, lavish dark hair and delicate features, reminded me of a throwback to what women resembled in eras gone by. Moments later, my friend Carol, came up to me, (having apparently had the same idea as we, to try a different neighborhood).
I sent the  kids up to the door, alone, which I will regret to my dying day. I had no sooner, turned my head to say goodbye to my friend, than I caught a glimpse of the lady at the door inviting my babies into her home. I remember still, her chilly voice, saying "Come in children, warm yourselves, while I get you some tasty treats."  Moving quickly up the stone path, I could feel my blood  racing. I was sure I was overreacting, but yet, I wanted to
be with them as soon as I could get to them. The door had closed  before I reached it, and that's when the screaming started. OH, the screaming! I will NEVER forget the sounds, they are etched in my soul like a scar in one's skin.

Quickly now! I'm beating on the door, running to the windows, racing frantically around the perimeters of the house but NOTHING will give way to allow my entry. It's as if the entire house conspired against that option. Which, I now know, it had. I can't see in and I think "Ok, get to the van, get to the police, get HELP!"
In record time I find the police station for that town, and  a detective, Jack O'Donell, drives us like a banshee in his car even if he DIDN'T believe me, my panic moved him. Time seemed to have stopped but as I checked my watch, a full hour had passed from the time my children first entered this nightmare of a house until our arrival in front of it.

Jack found the house locked up as tight as I had, only now, it
was old, decrepit and no sounds could be heard from inside. I
KNOW he believed my story, but he was befuddled by my description and the reality his own eyes displayed. He informs me he must go get a warrant to break in (having already tried to "unofficially" and having had no luck.) He'll need axes and personnel and such. My terror has ripened to such a height, the scent of it is coming off my skin. Something inside me warns "You'll never see them again."

I wait in front of the monstrosity and something happens that  I STILL can not reconcile with my rational mind. As the hours creep by, it's coming on to midnight. I'm circling round, trying to find some passage in when, I see the house "fading", yes, that's the word, it's fading. Moments later, it is gone, as if it never was. Weeds, and bushes that seemed to have been there forever mark the land where once a house stood. Jack FINALLY pulls up with the special team he'd secured, axes in hand, then
stupefied silence. He sees what I see, his men see nothing, not a thing. The respect he has earned over the years, qualms their  mutterings (at least within range of his hearing) as they
quietly leave him to deal with the "crazy lady." But he knows, he saw, as I had and he cannot forget.

I go home to devastation but the nightmare's not over, Oh! How I  wish it were. For, I am doomed now to relive this horror every October 31st. You see, every first of November, the full impact of that day is lying over me like a shroud. I spend much of the new year TRYING to find ways that will help me remember what has gone on before, to help me CHOOSE differently. All to no avail because once the next Halloween arrives, it all starts over again. The children waken me with excited cries of  "It's HALLOWEEN, Mommy, get up!" They don't remember either. The day goes on, perhaps sweeter, as it did five years ago. I spend the hours with
only a peculiarly strong sense of how much I LOVE my children and how bereft I would be if I were to lose them. Oh, and I also spend that day with the strongest sense of NEEDING to remember something, but just what, I can never quite recall.

Jack and I have become friends. Who knows, maybe the  shared experience of a house that "was no longer there" will bring more for us. All  I know for sure is, this YEAR, I HAVE to remember on Halloween, somehow. I must remember this tragically appointed time.

I awaken with a start, experiencing déjà vu.  My mind is flooded   with questions. "What day is it? What day? Are they here? Are they safe?"  I realize it's November 1st and the heart-sickening loss is remembered anew.

Red Dog's HALLOWEEN TALE

Description
At the Appointed Time

I awaken with a start, experiencing déjà vu. My mind  is  flooded with questions. "What day is it? What day? Are they here? Are they safe?" Slowly, as my mind starts swimming  to consciousness, I realize, it's November 1st. I recall now with resigned horror what I can never remember on October 31st. They're gone. Always gone, until, that is, our one day
together, bittersweetly, cursed as it has been every Halloween.

Five years have passed since the terror happened. I'd spent the day putting the finishing touches on the twins' and Emmy's costumes. I've  always loved the holiday, fraught with memories  as it was, with parties, friends coming over to "trick or treat" with me and of course, loads of candy. I had put out the Jack O' Lanterns, the various odd decorations we had collected over the years and the bowl sitting on a chair, on our porch, with the obligatory note "Take One only PLEASE." (Of course, I was never sure that it was heeded, since we were always out ourselves and never found any candy remains, when we arrived home. This year, Emmy was dressing as a witch, Caty, an Indian and Colin, a clown. Sure, the costumes were humble but  I've always been proud that I made them myself. Dinner is always some rushed effort, as excitement overtakes us to get out the front door and begin the fun. That year, it was hot dogs, with some chili on top. We left the house, pillowcases in hand at 6:30, and as early as it was, darkness had already fallen.

I  torment myself, every year,  with the same questions. "Why did we decide THIS  time, to go to an unfamiliar neighborhood? Why didn't I go up to the door of that house? Why did I let them step in?"
OH heaven knows, I SO wish I'd done any of these things differently! If only Kyle (my beloved husband) were alive. If only he hadn't been at the wrong place at the wrong time, when a driver crashed through the red light. Things might have been so very different now. It had only been two years then, since we all had to face our tremendous grief.

We pile into the van, and head for San Marino, having heard that the wealthy owners of those expansive homes were quite generous with their handouts. Why, we had even been told by one of Colie's buddys that a family there, actually gave away silver dollars to expectant trick or treaters. Excited, I  parked the car on a beautiful street, barely getting the engine shut off before the kids piled out the door. I can still feel the anticipation that wafted through the air that night, and reflecting back now, there was also for me, an odd sense of forboddeing. Again, the question,
"Why didn't I follow my instincts?"

Much of the evening was spent walking, talking, being silly with
my babies and eating WAY too much candy along the way. I was getting so tired, not  having worn the best walking  shoes I owned. When we came upon the old Victorian house, I had caught a glimpse of a darkly, beautiful woman, peering through heavy drapes, smiling. It seemed like such a warm smile, and her pale skin, lavish dark hair and delicate features, reminded me of a throwback to what women resembled in eras gone by. Moments later, my friend Carol, came up to me, (having apparently had the same idea as we, to try a different neighborhood).
I sent the  kids up to the door, alone, which I will regret to my dying day. I had no sooner, turned my head to say goodbye to my friend, than I caught a glimpse of the lady at the door inviting my babies into her home. I remember still, her chilly voice, saying "Come in children, warm yourselves, while I get you some tasty treats."  Moving quickly up the stone path, I could feel my blood  racing. I was sure I was overreacting, but yet, I wanted to
be with them as soon as I could get to them. The door had closed  before I reached it, and that's when the screaming started. OH, the screaming! I will NEVER forget the sounds, they are etched in my soul like a scar in one's skin.

Quickly now! I'm beating on the door, running to the windows, racing frantically around the perimeters of the house but NOTHING will give way to allow my entry. It's as if the entire house conspired against that option. Which, I now know, it had. I can't see in and I think "Ok, get to the van, get to the police, get HELP!"
In record time I find the police station for that town, and  a detective, Jack O'Donell, drives us like a banshee in his car even if he DIDN'T believe me, my panic moved him. Time seemed to have stopped but as I checked my watch, a full hour had passed from the time my children first entered this nightmare of a house until our arrival in front of it.

Jack found the house locked up as tight as I had, only now, it
was old, decrepit and no sounds could be heard from inside. I
KNOW he believed my story, but he was befuddled by my description and the reality his own eyes displayed. He informs me he must go get a warrant to break in (having already tried to "unofficially" and having had no luck.) He'll need axes and personnel and such. My terror has ripened to such a height, the scent of it is coming off my skin. Something inside me warns "You'll never see them again."

I wait in front of the monstrosity and something happens that  I STILL can not reconcile with my rational mind. As the hours creep by, it's coming on to midnight. I'm circling round, trying to find some passage in when, I see the house "fading", yes, that's the word, it's fading. Moments later, it is gone, as if it never was. Weeds, and bushes that seemed to have been there forever mark the land where once a house stood. Jack FINALLY pulls up with the special team he'd secured, axes in hand, then
stupefied silence. He sees what I see, his men see nothing, not a thing. The respect he has earned over the years, qualms their  mutterings (at least within range of his hearing) as they
quietly leave him to deal with the "crazy lady." But he knows, he saw, as I had and he cannot forget.

I go home to devastation but the nightmare's not over, Oh! How I  wish it were. For, I am doomed now to relive this horror every October 31st. You see, every first of November, the full impact of that day is lying over me like a shroud. I spend much of the new year TRYING to find ways that will help me remember what has gone on before, to help me CHOOSE differently. All to no avail because once the next Halloween arrives, it all starts over again. The children waken me with excited cries of  "It's HALLOWEEN, Mommy, get up!" They don't remember either. The day goes on, perhaps sweeter, as it did five years ago. I spend the hours with
only a peculiarly strong sense of how much I LOVE my children and how bereft I would be if I were to lose them. Oh, and I also spend that day with the strongest sense of NEEDING to remember something, but just what, I can never quite recall.

Jack and I have become friends. Who knows, maybe the  shared experience of a house that "was no longer there" will bring more for us. All  I know for sure is, this YEAR, I HAVE to remember on Halloween, somehow. I must remember this tragically appointed time.

I awaken with a start, experiencing déjà vu.  My mind is flooded   with questions. "What day is it? What day? Are they here? Are they safe?"  I realize it's November 1st and the heart-sickening loss is remembered anew.

Red Dog's HALLOWEEN TALE