I sat my children down around the glowing fire to tell them a story that haunted me for years. They were now old enough that it was time to pass on the tradition. In the quite suburbs of Massachusetts there was a lonely, single man named Mr. Harold. He was a strapping man in his mid 60’s. He was about 5’9, and had deep brown, hazelnut eyes and his signature midnight black slicked back hair, that he never left his house with out doing. He wore baggy cloths always, even though he was a scrawny man. He lived in the very last house at the end of the road. You would rarely see Mr. Harold. He never left his house besides getting the mail at the end of the sidewalk every other week. You would only see Mr. Harold during the month of October. Mr. Harold was obsessed with Halloween! It was his favorite time of year. He loved seeing the faces of the little kids when they received the top notch Halloween candy. Though he also loved seeing the faces of the frightened teenagers as he freaked them out with menacing mask and pranks. Although it was his favorite event, it always drove him crazy by the end. Mr. Harold held a deep secret that emerged every Halloween.
It was Halloween time in that quiet unsuspecting neighborhood. Mr. Harold always had the best, most amazing decorations. He put up many of his decorations the night before, but left the best ones until the night of Halloween, so no one could steal them. It always amazed one preteen boy who wanted to be the next Halloween master. He always would observe Mr. Harold and the quirks he did to make his house the best.
On this particular pre-Halloween night the boy got the nerve to go up to Mr. Harold’s house and ask him personally to show him how to have the best Halloween decorations. He knocked on his door abruptly. He could hear Mr. Harold inside putting something up but he could not decipher what the noise was. Mr. Harold appeared in the doorway looking pale and had crimson stains all over the apron he was wearing. The boy pushed his way inside Mr. Harold’s elaborate decorated house. As the boy entered he muttered, “great costume”. The man was at first hesitant, but then as if he had an idea, let the boy come inside. The man showed the boy around with willingness. He led the boy to the kitchen and explained, “this is where the culinary magic happens.” There on the counter were some plump, golden, caramel apples. The boy was amazed at how beautiful they were. Mr. Harold could see the look on the boys face and gave him one. The boy’s expression lit up. Then he escorted him towards the living room were he was stuffing this mammoth, realistic spider. The eight, fuzzy, 5-foot legs spread sporadically thought the small space. Mr. Harold was now looking more excited than ever and invited the boy downstairs to his basement.
He said to the boy, “ This is where I make and store my best decorations”. He led the boy to a sliver volt door that lead to some creaky old wooden steps. The man whispered, “ I don’t want anyone finding out my Halloween secret”. The boy nodded in agreement. The old man let the enthusiastic boy go first. He stepped down the darken stairs one by one. Mr. Harold so kindly lit a candle that he used for working. As the room lit up the boys mouth dropped. Not with excitement or enthusiasm, but with pure terror. There in the slightly lit room were dead children’s bodies, which had been scattered and severed all around in the basement. The boy could tell they were real due to the horrible stench seeping into his nose. The boy witnessed limbs detached from their body, overflowing in bloody cardboard boxes. Bodies stacked on top of one another on an old couch placed by the back corner. By the only basement window there were 3 gutted body skins with bags of stuffing placed next to them.
The man walked towards the boy with a huge chopping knife with dried blood on it. The boy presumed he was the next person to be killed. The man did not walk any farther towards him, nor did he start to attack him. Mr. Harold slowly walked to a grey cabinet that had blood seeping from the openings. He leisurely pulled the rusty door open and a dead body fell quickly to the ground.
Mr. Harold said in a slow voice, “ I’m excited for you to help me finish my next stuffing, but first we have to gut it”.
The boys faced turned white, all the blood drained from his face.
“All that I really wanted to do was have the most elite decorations on the block.”
The man responded firmly, “ I know, that’s why I’m teaching you ”.
It clicked with the boys mind that this is how the old man got the best and most realistic decorations. He used real people. The boy wanted no part of this any more! He wanted to escape as fast as he could. Mr. Harold had other planes.
Mr. Harold whispered words to the boy’s ear, “ I need you! You were to carry on my tradition after I die. I am not letting you leave until you fulfill my wishes. Once you dismember this human and rid it of all the rotting organs and inners then stuff it, you may go. If you do not fulfill my wishes, you will be the next victim to be stuffed!” As the man was saying this, the boy could feel the man’s deep nails digging into his back, right shoulder. The man watched him with his cold, beady eyes and gave him a freshly sharpened, silver knife. He placed it in the boy’s trembling hand. The boy made the first incision in the dead body.
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