Trick? or Treat?
With each bite of
oatmeal, Lilly’s excitement grew. She glanced at the clock. 7:30. Past time for
Bub to wake up. She wondered how he could be sleeping late this morning,
when she couldn’t wait to wear her costume and go trick-or-treating. Candy!
Yum! It was fun knocking on the neighbors’ doors, especially Mrs. Robbins … fun
and scary at the same time. The kids at school thought the woman was a witch
and refused to go near her house. Lilly and Bub knew she gave out whole candy
bars—worth the risk. Plus, being scared is the best part of Halloween.
After gulping down orange
juice, scraping the last of the oatmeal from the bowl, and savoring a slice of
jelly-covered toast, Lilly hopped down and cleared the table. With all the
dishes placed neatly in the dishwasher, she opened a packet of instant oatmeal,
added water, and stuck it inside the microwave. She watched it whirl around
until the bowl threatened to overflow, at which point she pulled it out. While
pouring a glass of milk, she yelled, “Bub! Bub! Wake up! Breakfast is ready.”
Bub didn’t answer.
Lilly stuck a slice of
bread in the toaster, ran down the hall, and burst into Bub’s room. She stood
there, unable to move. Frozen in place.
Bub wasn’t there.
The sound of the toaster
regurgitating the slice of bread, allowed her to move. She ran to the bathroom.
The door was closed. Lilly breathed a sigh of relief. “Bub. Your breakfast is
on the table. Hurry, before it gets cold.”
No answer.
“Bub? Are you in there?”
No answer.
She opened the door. The
bathroom was empty.
Lilly rolled her eyes. He’s
probably riding his new bike. Grabbing a red, stocking cap off the hook in
the mud room, Lilly ran outside and looked up and down the street. No Bub. She
ran around the side of the house, opened the gate, closed it behind her, and
turned around. She stumbled and almost fell on her face. What the … ? She
clamped her hand over her mouth to keep a bad word from escaping.
In the far corner of the
yard was a playhouse, or at least it looked like a playhouse. Sort of. It’s
roof and walls were a little wonky. Nothing was straight. The roof leaned one
way and the walls the other. Even the steps dipped down in the middle, and the
porch railing was made from boards of different heights. What is that?
she wondered. On the other side was a slide instead of another set of steps. Must
be for a quick escape, but why would anyone need a quick escape from a
playhouse? As crooked as the house is, whoever built it must have had a
few too many nips of Uncle Willie’s moonshine. She wasn’t supposed to know
about moonshine, but she did.
Double-checking to make
sure no one was around, Lilly crept toward the strange little house. The closer
she got, the more she felt like running the other way, but she didn’t. She was
on a mission to find Bub. Her parents gave her the responsibility of watching
him for a couple of hours while they checked on Grandma at the nursing home.
This was a test run. If Lilly took good care of her brother, this might become
a paying job. If something happened to Bub, they would never trust her again.
After what seemed like a
mile trek across the lawn, Lilly reached the stairs leading up to the door. She
tried the first step with her foot. It seemed sturdy enough, so she climbed up
to the porch. Since there wasn’t a window to peek inside, Lilly knocked. “Bub?” She knocked again, and
said louder, “Bub!” No response. She tried the knob. Locked.
Lilly ran down the steps
and circled the little house. On one side, she found an old tire attached to a
round window. She leaned over the rim. It was too dark to see inside, but she
did see one word on the glass—pleH. Strange. “Bub! Are you in there?” No
answer. Lilly stared at the word for a moment. Backwards! The word was Help,
written in red. Red crayon? Blood? Lilly screamed.
“Stop it!” Lilly said
aloud. “I need to get inside. But how?” She took off running toward the garage.
Inside she dug around until she found a screwdriver. Too small. A shovel. Too
heavy and long. Then she saw it, the perfect tool. Grabbing the crowbar, she
ran back to the playhouse and positioned the tool beside the latch. Pushing as
hard as she could, the door popped open. She dropped the crowbar, and then
picked it up again. It might come in handy if she needed a weapon.
Stepping inside, she
waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Bub was nowhere to be found. To
get more light into the room, she pushed the door wider. The room was vacant
with the exception of an almost empty box of cookies placed in the middle of
the floor. She picked one up and inhaled. Chocolate chip. Bub’s favorite. Upon
further inspection, she saw a trail of cookie crumbs leading outside.
Lilly followed the crumbs
toward the field in the back. She slipped through broken boards and picked up
the trail on the other side. After passing a bale of hay, she stopped. In front
of her was a pile of candy bars. Not the little miniature kind, whole bars. There
was a variety, including Bub’s favorite—chocolate caramel. The cookie crumb
trail ended, but the trail of candy bars continued. She counted twenty
different varieties, as she walked toward a wagon loaded with hay.
What was that? It sounded
like a growl. She crept over to the
wagon and walked stealthily around to the back side. She held her breath and peeked
around the corner. Bub was laying on the ground, his white shirt covered in
blood. An old woman dressed in a black, flowing dress stood over him, holding a
knife above his head. Lilly opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. I
have to save Bub! She held up the crowbar and ran toward the scary, old
woman. Lilly’s plan was to knock her to the ground, hit her in the head, and
grab the knife. The plan changed.
Bub sat up and hooted
with laughter. Lilly fainted.
The old woman and little
boy picked her up, carried her back to the house, and tucked her into bed.
When Lilly opened her
eyes, Bub and Mrs. Robbins were sitting next to the bed. Lilly sat up and
looked from one to the other. “How did I get here?”
“We carried you,” replied
Mrs. Robbins.
Confused, Lilly
continued, “I had the wildest dream. I dreamed there was a wonky little house
in the backyard, Bub was dead, and you killed him.” With that, she hopped out
of bed and looked out the window. “There it is! It’s still there. Where did it
come from?”
Mrs. Robbins walked up
behind her. “The playhouse belonged to my grandson, but he’s in college now. It
seemed lonely, so I had it moved over here. Do you like it?”
“It’s a nice house.”
Lilly looked at her brother. “I saw you laying on the ground covered in blood.”
Bub hung his head. “I’m
sorry. I wanted to play a trick on you. I wrote ‘help’ on the window with
finger paint and we made a trail of cookie crumbs for you to follow. Like in
Hansel and Gretel. I dumped more finger paint all over my shirt. “Did it look
real? Did I look dead? Did I?” Bub asked.
“Yes, it looked real
enough to scare me half to death!”
“Mrs. Robbins tried to
talk me out of it, but I convinced her you would think it was funny. I guess I
was wrong.”
Bub and Mrs. Robbins
simultaneously pulled peanut butter bars out of their pockets and handed them
to Lilly. “Forgive us?” they asked in unison.
