a ghost story for halloween.

the last road in town ran out beyond the swept sidewalks of 1950s-era tract housing, out beyond hollow brick warehouses and the craggy limbs of feral orchards, out to the rain-swollen river, where it paced alongside the muddy twists and turns. as it went, the paving cracked and crumbled, gave way to gravel, and then at last, rutted dirt at the very base of a lonely hill.

the hill could be glimpsed from the very top of the clock tower at the heart of town, where the road had its birth in the tree-lined square that fronted the town hall, but no one ever bothered.

however, the road, which for most of the year was untraveled save by vagrants and occasional illicit lovers, was burdened and bothered each autumn. the dust and gravel were kicked up every night, the weeds tramped down every evening, as the entire town made their way, car by car, up to the hill they ignored all the rest of the year.

for two or three weeks every october, the last road in town was as well traveled as any highway, because everyone in town wanted to go to the haunted house that crowned the hill, the haunted house that was the only destination the ragged road had.

truth be told, tomas didn’t really like this time of year. he worked at the haunted house, and while it was a good job, every year it got busier and busier. he was starting to dread seeing the branches of the yard’s only tree grow silhouetted and bare against the night sky, because he knew that it meant soon he would have to perform his tricks for the gawking townspeople, night after night after night.

he complained about it to his co-worker and friend, one night as they sat having coffee at the table in the break room.

“imenan, i tell you, i am heartily sick of it! it used to be we could take a night off here and there, especially on sundays. no one ever used to come up here then, but now it is all the time, knocking on the door. i barely have time to scramble into the coffin, and i’m starting to get headaches from doing the bat transformation too many times in an evening.”

imenan stared morosely into his mug, nodding his head. “i agree with you, tomas, believe me, i do. granted, i don’t have as hard a time of it as you do, all i have to do push the lid open and step out of my sarcophagus, but it’s almost impossible for me to make my moans sound authentic anymore. i’m burned out.”

“me too, imenan, me too. and when was the last time we were able to go visit harold? this was always the best time of the year to find him available. normally, he’s so difficult to contact.”

the two friends sat there in silence for a little while, until a great knocking sound reverberated from upstairs. tomas and imenan gave each other a commiserating look, sighed, and stood up. they went out from the break room by two different doors, each to their stations in the house, to await visitors.

it was almost daybreak when the two fellows re-entered the break room. tomas unclasped his cape and let it puddle on the floor, then sat down at the table, resting his elbows on the surface. he hung his head and rubbed his temples. imenan plopped down in the other chair, looking more tattered than he had when they started their shift.

“that was the worst night yet," the old egyptian said. “all those townsfolk, and i only got a shriek out of half of them!”

“oh, yes, it was terrible,” tomas agreed. “i don’t think i can face another night like this one.” he put his head down on the table, but raised it again in a flash. his eyes gleamed. “imenan! i have an idea!” the vampire leaned toward his friend, smiling a smile that would have chilled the townspeople, indeed. the mummy, however, was not alarmed. he waited patiently for tomas to continue.

“we are taking tomorrow night off. you need a break, i need a break, and so we shall just take our break.”

“tomas! we can’t do that! tomorrow night is all hallow’s eve, it is our busiest night!”

“no, i do not care, imenan. let those who come find a dark and empty house. it has been too long since we have made a visit to our friend harold, and so tomorrow night, that is what we shall do. it is decided.”

imenan looked at his friend’s satisfied expression. he was dubious that it would all work out, but could not deny that he was looking forward to a night off. so he and tomas made their plans for tomorrow’s holiday, and then said good night and parted company, just as the light in the sky began to thin toward dawn.