Halloween by Curtis Richards

interesting that you mention it. If you went to church more often, you'd understand why."
    "Huh?"
    "Yes. You see, the Myers case was mentioned by Reverend Peters in last Sunday's sermon."
    "It was?" Laurie leaned forward, fascinated.
    "Uh-huh. He started off reminding us that Halloween was coming up this week, and he said some real interesting things about the origins of Halloween, about how it goes back to festivals aimed at warding off demons at harvest time, way back when."
    "What does that have to do with the Myers case?"
    "Well, Reverend Peters said the Myers case, which happened on Halloween fifteen years ago, reminds us that true evil still exists in this world. He said that like everything else, we've tried to deodorize evil and put it in a bright new package and you can buy it at the supermarket for five cents off with a coupon. Then along comes something like the Myers case and we're left with our mouths open looking into the . . . what'd he call it? . . . the heart of darkness. Maybe that's why God put devils like the Myers kid on earth—to keep us aware of the darker side of human nature. And maybe you ought to do some studying. I doubt if you'll get much homework done tonight."
    "Thanks, Mom. That was real interesting, what you said." Her mother looked at her skeptically, but Laurie had no mischievous look on her face. "No, I really mean ii." She hauled her books up from the kitchen counter and lumbered upstairs.
    "Are you sure you're not coming down with something?" Mrs. Strode called after her.
    "No, just a minor case of the spooks. It's Halloween, after all."
    She dumped her books on her desk and made a beeline for her phone for her daily gossip fix, as she called it. The phone stood on a table near the side window of her room, which looked down on a pair of driveways belonging to her own house and the one next door. On sunny days her mother often hung laundry on a line there.
    She looked idly out the window as she dialed two digits. Then she gasped and put the phone sharply back on its cradle.
    He was there .
    Partially masked by flapping sheets, he stood there looking up at her window. His face was flour-white, his lips rouge-red, his eyes dark and limitless. The texture of his skin was rubbery looking, but it was still impossible to tell if he was wearing a mask. Until this moment she'd had a sneaking suspicion it might be Eddie Lester or Paul Sheehan or one of those clowns who were always pulling practical jokes. And except April Fool's, when they worked overtime at it, if ever there was a day for practical jokes, Halloween was it.
    But no, this person was different. He was huskier than any of the guys at school. And there was something about the way he hung back instead of tearing off his mask, identifying himself and saying the joke was over, the way any normal prankster would. And this person was so elusive. You looked at him and he was there, but if you blinked he was gone. And that station wagon. She'd never seen it around, and she and her friends knew every car in town, for sure. She'd noticed some kind of emblem on the door as it cruised past this afternoon. Next time it went by she'd look at it more carefully, or try to get the license number.
    But now . . .
    Now he was gone.
    Biting her lip, she slammed the window down hard, rattling the sash, and locked it. Rubbing her knuckles over her teeth, she paced around her room, wondering what to do. She twisted her head suddenly toward the window to catch him unawares, but he was gone. She began to doubt her senses.
    Her phone rang, making her jump as if a shotgun had gone off at her feet. She picked it up. "Hello?"
    The line was open, but silent. Someone was listening at the other end.
    "Hello?"
    There was a sound like someone smacking his lips.
    "Who is this?"
    The sound grew louder, and someone made a muffled growl. Laurie slammed the phone down and wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking.
    The phone rang again. Laurie looked at it,