It’s That Time of Year Again

By Keith Fisher

Each year the primary children in our ward gather at the church for a Halloween party. It’s directed by the young men/young women organizations. I look forward to it because of the trunk-or-treat.

If you’ve never participated in this ritual let me lay it out for you. Years ago it was relatively safe for parents to let their kids run wild in the streets on Halloween. Now, because of sick-minded individuals, it’s no longer an option. Someone developed the idea to have a trunk-or-treat so parents could feel that their kids were safe.

That’s a great idea isn’t it? Well it would be, except the kids in our neighborhood still do the Halloween night ritual. I’m so glad I live in a neighborhood where I know all my neighbors. Even with that, I still wouldn’t let my kids go out without supervision. But I digress, let’s get back to the trunk-or-treat.

The way it’s done is simple; you take a car, truck, minivan, SUV, and in one case this year, a Moped with the seat up. Back it up to the sidewalk, decorate it and provide the candy. It is fun for the adults to compare how artistic the decorations are. We had a good time with ours as you can see from the pictures. http://www.gwdos.com/blog/PA240038b.jpg
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http://www.gwdos.com/blog/PA240041c.jpg this one was ours
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One of the families has always brought animated decorations for their trunk. This year, they
brought a new one. It looked like a little kid with a jack-o-lantern head. When someone approached, it would shift it’s weight from side to side and move it’s arms a little. Something about those actions made me fall in love with it. Did I say it’s cute?

I watched the cute little guy for awhile and my writer’s eyes took over. I dreamed up a scenario where the cute little thing spent Halloween night on someone’s porch greeting visitors. Everyone loved it. Then at midnight it turned evil and went on a Stephen King type of rampage throughout the neighborhood, starting with the death of the owners of the house.
Those who handled the estate put it into a box. Then on the following Halloween . . .

I was reciting this scenario to one of the guys in my ward and he said, "You ought to be a writer."

"Hmm," I said. "I think I am." He didn’t hear me and I didn’t want to get into another of those discussions so I let it go. I turned into my contemplative thoughts as I often do, and I said to myself, "No I ought to be a published author of fiction."

I may write the story of the cute little serial killer someday. But it’ll have to wait until I finish my other projects. In the meantime, I’m going to find a cute little guy for Halloween but I’m going to chain him to the porch, maybe keep a shotgun handy.