Jimmy and Margaret crouched in the hallway in front of their mother's bedroom door. He wore a grey werewolf mask, and she, one of a vampire. A lone sepia photo of Great-great grandma Thema in 1920s garb sat suspended on one of the walls, accompanied by bare nails where more recent wedding pictures once hung. In 1926, when Great-great grandma Thema went on trial for stabbing her bootlegger boyfriend in the chest, she argued in court that the man had beaten her, and her actions were in self-defense. The all-male judge and jury decided otherwise and sent the young woman to the electric chair. Marion told that story to her children every year at Halloween and concluded by warning them that the ghost of Great-great grandma Thelma wandered about pulling off acts of mischief in October, the month of her execution.
Slowly, the two children pushed open the door and, seeing their mother's feet in the bed above them, crept slowly into the room. Hearts pounded in their narrow chests with excitement. They would pull off the most terrifying Halloween prank on their mother ever.
The twins lined themselves up, and when Jimmy gave the signal, both stood up and growled as loud and ferociously as they could. Childlike growls turned into children's screams, for Marion lay on the bed, her white nightgown soaked in crimson, a knife handle protruding from her chest. Her long black hair flowed across cream pillows. She had closed eyes and her lipstick-less lips partly open.
The two siblings ran into the hallway, ripping off their masks and exposing their matching ginger hair and freckled faces. Between sobs, they talked in low, frightened voices.
"The killer, "said Jimmy, trembling as if he were in cold weather in a wet t-shirt, "could still be in the house. We need to get outta here as fast as possible."
They charged down the hallway of the one-story brick house, past the fist-made hole in the wall, toward the front door, which Margaret tried unsuccessfully to open. Jimmy threw all his sixty pounds against the door, but it would not budge.
"The killer must have blocked it from the outside and then come in through a window. "Quick, let's get to the kitchen where we can call the police."
While Jimmy tried to wedge a chair between the table and the kitchen door, Margaret pulled the telephone from the wall. But before she could call 911, the door flew open, and the children closed their eyes and screamed.
When the screaming stopped and the only sound in the kitchen was the dial tone on the slimline phone, they heard their mother's voice and opened their eyes.
Marion was standing before them using paper towels to wipe the homemade Kensington Gore off her face and clothes. She laid the fake knife handle and its plastic holder on the kitchen table.
" Next time you try to prank your mother, make sure she is not standing in the hallway listening to your plans. Let me clean up and change, and we will go out and get some pumpkin cheesecake ice cream."
The children smiled at her with tears glistening on their cheeks.
The three were ready to go minutes later, but the front door still would not open. The usually self-assured mother of the twins looked worriedly at her children. A sense of urgency came over her. Restraining order, she said to herself as a means of calming down. She shook the door violently, but it did not budge.
"Something is wrong with it. Let's go out through the garage."
It was dark in the garage, and as she groped about for the car door, the overhead fluorescent garage light flickered on, and all three looked toward the light switch.
With his post-war madness and automatic rifle, the estranged, deranged husband glared at his family with narrow eyes. His red hair, once crew cut in military style, was shoulder length and unwashed.
Mother and children gasp in horror.
"Sorry to startle y'all," he said in his southern drawl. "The apartment I am staying at now does not allow firearms, so I am bringing this back to keep in the garage. By the way, what the hell is wrong with the front door?"
"You need to leave, Douglas," Marion said between clenched teeth. "Do so right now, or I'll call the cops."
"Awe, Come on, Marion. Don't be that way, " He looked at his two children. "Did I hear something about ice cream?"
Shallow nods came from the twins.
"Ok then, Let's go."
"That's it," Marion shouted, running back into the house to get the kitchen phone.
Douglas pursued her. The children remained in the garage, frozen with fear. They heard a slap followed by a scream from their mother. More disturbing sounds followed, then a terrible gurgling sound from the kitchen.
Cautiously, the twins made their way back into the house, and when they arrived in the kitchen, they found their father lying on the floor, his white shirt soaked in crimson and a knife sticking out of his chest.
"Well done, mom and dad," Jimmy said. "But you can't prank us twice."
Marion walked over to the phone, leaving bloody fingerprints on its receiver as she punched in three numbers.
"I'd like to report a murder, "she said, her voice shaking. "I just killed my husband."
The ghost of Great-great grandma Thema, invisible to all but the dead, released her hold on the front door, laughed like a flapper in a speakeasy, turned into smoke, and drifted away in the Autumn air.
