NOT A TREAT
A chill city mist rolled silently down a dark road
punctuated by a tight group of loud children with
Two furtive figures waited in the shadows.
"So long has he been in there?" one of them said. He
looked over carefully for any movement in their
"Relax, that's his problem. He left us out here. Just to
keep watch. Nothing else, he said. That was nice of
"How long does it takes to wave a gun and duck-tape
an old couple and put the good stuff in a bag? We
should have gone in with him. Something is going
wrong in there."
"You mean duct-tape?"
"I like ducks"
It was then that the house lights went off, all of them.
The evening was cut through by a single long scream,
like the kind they have heard before, too many times.
And then nothing.
"We've got to go in."
Now they were at the door. It was strangely quiet and
all-in-darkness. There followed one of those surreal
moments that might only happen once in a lifetime.
They put on their masks, rang the doorbell, and
After a while, a long while, a light came on again but
it was not their co-conspirator that came to the door
but the little-old-lady of the house.
"Come in out of the cold," she said. "We've been
waiting for you."
As they led them through to the back room her
husband gestured as if there was no hurry in the
"No, don't tell them," she said ever-so-quietly to her
husband. "If we tell them it won't be a surprise."
Not a Treat was published in
Red Fez, Issue 94