I really wanted to edit this a bit before I put it up here but, you know, I didn’t ask for this sinus infection so what you get is the rough draft.  It’s slightly cringe-worthy, at least to me.  Typing it in I seemed to pick up the pace that I wanted towards the end but, like always, I ramble too much at the beginning.  Thankfully I already know how I want to edit it.

Fourteen was definitely not too old to go trick-or-treating.  But believing in ghouls and creatures was.  Never mind they were all dressed like them.  That was just pretend.

Jack opened up his pillowcase again and random pieces of candy were twitching around.  He could see a hole torn right through the middle of a Twizzlers package.  When the thing, buried in the sack, started to groan, Jack closed up the top of the pillowcase and dropped it down at his side.  It swung a good six inches off his body.  Hopefully nobody else would notice his awkward walk.  He should have opted for the rubber mask.  His fear would have hidden better behind that instead of face paint.

Two houses ago Jack thought he felt something heavy drop into his bag when he was reaching into the candy bowl.  When he looked, it was just a pillowcase half-full with candy.  He looked at the lady in the doorway.  She just half-smiled at him.  It was the same look they got at the rest of the houses, because those people thought they were too old too.

The pillowcase started kicking up and swinging around.  It whapped Jack in the leg a couple of times.  At least he was at the back of the group and they couldn’t see him or his candy spazzing out.

The sack swung wider and wider and the snarls weren’t so muffled by the candy anymore.  The last thing Jack wanted to do was hug the sack to him to stop it from twitching.  It was either that or hold it away from him like he had a pissed off cat inside.

Something inside was pissed off.

The sack squirmed and twitched against Jack’s body.  The candy bars writhed around like fingers, poking and brushing and jabbing.  Each crinkled stick made his stomach flop.  Beads of sweat were starting to form on his neck.  Mixed with the cold air, it made his chills even more violent.

All Jack could hear was the snarling and crunching inside his bag.  He could see the smiles on his friends’ faces.  They were shoving each other, having fun.  They hadn’t turned to a house in a while and the street was getting darker as fewer and fewer houses had their porch lights on.

Something sharp dug across Jack’s stomach and he sucked in the cold air through his teeth.  He looked down and already the while pillowcase had a spot of blood on it.

Nothing else mattered except the green reflective street sign that signaled home only yards ahead.  The group came to the corner and Jack yelled, “I’m out!” as he zoomed around the curb and bee-lined for his house.  The guys said things but it was just static compared to the snarling at his stomach.  Why didn’t they notice?

His feet couldn’t walk fast enough as the powered past dark house after dark house.  A beacon of light lit his door step like a flood light and Jack’s tunnel vision narrowed in on his own stoop.  He’d never felt so happy to see ugly orange mums.

Jack could feel what happened before his brain could process it.  The toe of his sneaker caught the curb, the pillowcase launched out of his arms and his knees slammed into the dewy grass.

At first it was just the wet through his jeans he could feel.  Then his heart started knocking on his rib cage as a small gust of wind flapped a small candy wrapper into his face.  Just a few short feet ahead of him, the white pillowcase stood out in the shadows, its sugary guts spilled out all over the grass.  It was still.

The blood pulsed in Jack’s ears as his eyes flashed from the gutter to his side to the shrubs and back to the sack.  It was still.  Even from where he sprawled he could see the red blot of blood his stomach left behind.  He lifted up his shirt and there was the tear in his skin.  Blood smeared all around the wound and bits of t-shirt fuzz stuck to it.

The sack still wasn’t moving.

Jack’s street was silent.  Not even any bugs.

He felt a pressure on the back of his calf and frantically swat at whatever it was.  When he looked over his shoulder, it was nothing.

There was a poke at his back which Jack swat at with a heavy hand.  He felt the sting of the hit but when he twisted around to look, it was nothing.

Something scurried up his arm but before Jack could even reach to hit, there was horror at the back of his neck.  The pain flashed stars in his eyes.  As the teeth tore further into his skin and he could hear it popping under pressure.  Jack heard the short, breathy snarls of the thing in his ear.

Jaws clamped harder and Jack’s voice caught in his throat, not being able to make it to a yell.  He could see the front porch lit up with a yellow bulb, and those stupid orange mums, before his head hit the ground, crinkling a candy wrapper.

The porch light flared and went black.