posted on Sep, 19 2006 @ 01:48 PM
You could smell Mrs. Anderson's cookies three blocks away. It was the same
wonderful aroma that drifted slowly throughout the neighborhood every year at
Halloween time. All the Trick'N'Treaters went out of their way to hit Mrs. Anderson's
house during their spooky hikes around the area because she always offered the
most delicious treats imaginable. Usually it was three home-made cookies wrapped
in orange waxed paper with candied corn thrown in as filling. Everyone visiting her
house received the same special treat, and most of the time the cookies were fresh
and warm to the touch. Mrs. Anderson took pride in her Halloween contributions,
and one could tell a little love had been mixed in with the rest of the ingredients.
This year, as the Trick'N'Treaters made their way up the sidewalk that led to her
porch, some of them noticed that Mrs. Anderson wasn't at the top of the stairs to
greet them like she normally did, handing out compliments on costumes and
make-up along with her wonderful cookies.
This year, at the top of the stairs, sat a small, upside-down metal bucket, upon
which a large platter of her wrapped goodies had been placed. Evidently now, it was presumed that one could just climb up the stairs, grab a wrapped
it into their scary bag of treats, and head on over to the next house on the street.
Some of the regulars actually missed talking with her, but said nothing.
Out in the back of the house, in the kitchen, Mrs. Anderson worked at still another
batch of cookie dough. There was one in the oven baking already, but she knew
that this last batch would be needed as well, to satisfy all of the fat little spoiled
children's appetites. She laughed to herself as she added more things to the batter.
"Spiders' web, spiders' legs, make them sick, make them gag,
add some blood and fires' ash, conjure up the spirits past,
let them take what they desire, then burn in hell from their acquire."
Her eyes were glassy and her movements were stiff.
Anyone seeing Mrs. Anderson in her present condition would've been fooled
completely, as she looked nothing like the gentle elderly lady that they had come to know. In fact, she looked almost like a witch.
Finishing her cookie dough, she sort of cackled to herself.
"Hair of cat, tooth of dog,
darkened water from swampy bog,
fluids of forgotten plants,
mixed with bugs and flys and ants."
She looked over the table then, at her latest visitors. They were tied up securely,
with ropes that held them in their chairs. They had come-a-knocking, not content
to just help themselves to the cookies on the porch, no, these two had to speak to
her in person. To say "thank you". They just had to bother her didn't they? Well,
they'd pay for their inconsideration. She had a special surprise for them.
She talked to them as she began the preparations. "How do you like me now
kiddies, . .now that I have the real spirit of Halloween flowing through my body?"
"Am I being scary now?" "Isn't this fun?"
The two visitors, a boy of nine and a girl of seven, watched her closely but could
say nothing. Silent tears ran down their faces as they felt the panic set in, but they
were both gagged with an apple, which was duct-taped across their mouths.
"Have you ever read the story of Hansel and Gretal, kiddies?"
She cackled again to herself.
You could smell Mrs. Anderson's cookies three blocks away, every Halloween, year
after year. They always smelled wonderful. But this year, those with a keener sense of smell noticed a blend of something else in the odorous mix.
was cooking a roast. Maybe she had guests over and was cooking for them. Or . . .. .
Outside in the night, more children made their rounds, laughing and filling their
goody bags to the brim. Two more were actually knocking on Mrs. Anderson's
front door again, wanting to personally thank her.