No. 13 Tinsmith Circle
written by: Esme Lee Wilmot
The air always smelled sweeter during Halloween. Even if Jason had drawn the short straw to clean out the bain-maire. The shopping centre’s food court was always packed, and he particularly hated tight-arse Tuesdays. The boss never put on enough staff at Betty’s Burgers, and tonight, a heap of takeaway orders had come in five minutes before closing.
He was still shutting up when his phone pinged with Freddy’s text. where r u?
The back of his neck was suddenly warm. still stuck at work. text you when I leave?
hurry. the candy’s already running out.
u serious? OK, will be quick.
you better. the place is crawling with kids.
He glanced at the clock near the cash register and swore. It was already 6:10 pm.
‘See you later, Jason.’ Michael stood there gloating, his backpack already over his shoulder. ‘Enjoy cleaning out greasy Betty.’ He stopped when he saw the look on Jason’s face. ‘Aww, don’t worry. I’ll save you some candy.’ Then he laughed and pulled on a Scream mask. Jason flipped him the bird as soon as he turned his back to leave the food court.
Twenty minutes later, Jason was sweaty but almost done with the clean-up. He was just emptying the bin when he noticed the strands of twine inside. His fist curled into a ball. All the pieces had been cut short. That Michael was such a creep. He decided to take a couple of eggs from the fridge for later.
Outside, the sun had set, and blood-red streaks shot out across the sky. The anger helped him ride his bike faster. It was 6:45 pm by the time he got to the primary school. He was supposed to meet Freddy forty-five minutes ago.
Freddy wasn’t there. In fact, hardly anyone was. He spotted some older kids walking away from the school, but most of the younger children had disappeared. It wasn’t a good sign. He should have fought Bob harder about taking tonight off.
Jason went to message Freddy when a text popped up from his friend. gone home. there’s nothing left. mum’s taking us for pizza.
Jason felt that familiar sinking feeling, followed by the stirrings of the green-eyed monster. His own mum was a nurse working the night shift, so he’d be eating by himself again. At least trick or treating was going to make up for it. It sucked that Freddy and his other friends weren’t into Halloween the way he was. Give it a few more years and they wouldn’t be interested at all.
That last thought scared him. Halloween was his favourite holiday, and wasting one seemed like a crime. His dad, gone for six years now, would be appalled. They had always talked about going back to Dad’s hometown in the States so Jason could experience a real Halloween. But he got sick before they had the chance.
‘Never say die.’ Besides, Jason didn’t want to go home just yet. Not to an empty house. He opened his backpack and pulled on his Halloween costume, a hairy werewolf mask and furry gloves with plastic claws. He specially ordered it online using the pay from Betty’s Burgers. Even his mum agreed it looked realistic. And he’d heard on the radio that tonight was a Super Blue Moon. Talk about scoring the ultimate prop.
Jason rode his bike down the street, admiring the decorations. The people living around the school always went all out, and this year was no exception. It boosted his spirits, and he promised himself to have fun tonight, no matter what.
About three blocks out, he turned down Mulholland Drive. Trying the streets further away from the school was a smart plan, given that little kids could only walk so far. Many would have crashed after the sugar rush and been dragged home by their parents. Little suckers. Luckily, he had a ride.
The first house with decorations, a combination of wispy artificial spiderwebs in the garden and a glowing pumpkin on the letterbox, also had a cardboard sign in the driveway that read: ‘Out of Candy.’
Not good. The second house looked more promising. A skeleton shrouded in a black hooded robe hung from a tree out the front. When the breeze picked up, it looked like it was floating towards you with its bony hand outstretched.
He rang the doorbell and hid behind a large pot plant. The door creaked open.
‘Rarrr!’ He sprang out of his hiding spot with his claws raised. The woman’s scream echoed down the street.
‘Trick or treat,’ Jason said, smiling under his werewolf mask.
A man came running down the hallway, presumably the woman’s husband, ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’
What had seemed perfectly hilarious, considering his costume, now seemed like a very bad idea. The woman’s eyes were wide, and a hand was planted on her chest as she drew in deep breaths.
‘Listen here, kid, we’re in the middle of dinner. Trick or treating finished ages ago. We don’t have anything left,’ said the husband.
His shoulders slumped, ‘Sorry.’
‘Honestly, someone of your age should know better.’ The man guided his wife away from the door and closed it.
Jason was fifteen and should know better, but he didn’t want to. Screw that. Becoming an adult was real-life horror. He only had to look at his mum to see what was coming— worrying all the time, working long hours and aging faster every year. And no interest in Halloween! Seeing her turn her back on Dad’s traditions made him angry. They were their traditions. Her problem was that she’d forgotten how to have fun.
A few doors up, an inflatable white ghost flapped in the breeze, and a string of flashing skeleton lights ran along a black fence. Jason parked his bike and hit the novelty doorbell. Ding dong. Ding dong. A maniacal laugh crackled through the tiny speaker.
There were angry mutterings and hurried footsteps from inside the house. The door opened, and a pissed-off man appeared. ‘Shh!’ he said. ‘My kids are in bed!’
‘Oh, I didn’t—’
‘It’s after seven. We ran out of sweets two hours ago.’ The man closed the door in his face.
Aww, man, thought Jason. People were such greedy pigs. He had watched enough of them stuff their faces with Betty Burgers, the mayo dribbling over their lips and the tomato sauce leaking down their hands as though they had committed deranged murder and were frothing at the mouth. It was the kind of thing you couldn’t unsee.
It was darker now, and he looked up, searching for the supermoon that was yet to appear. It gave Jason an idea. ‘How-woooo!’ he howled, just to piss the man off. Too bad if his greedy little kids woke up.
That’s when he remembered the eggs in his backpack.
Jason went to the same high school as his workmate, Michael, but gave him a wide berth. The guy was a year older than him and already built like a man. Jason had seen him take out people on the football field. And behind the sports shed, too, as the rumours had it. He was just the type to pull a stunt like the short straws. Too bad for Michael that Jason knew where he lived.
‘Heh heh heh.’ He climbed onto his bike and kicked off from the ground just as the front door behind him opened. ‘I said my kids are asleep!’ the guy hissed.
‘How-woooo!’ Jason yelled, pedalling off before the grumpy dad called the cops. Older generation Aussies were such miserable wretches about Halloween.
It didn’t take him long to ride the couple of streets to Michael’s house. He knocked on the door and waited.
It was Michael himself who opened the door.
‘Trick or treat,’ Jason said, layering it on extra thick. ‘I’ve come to claim my candy.’
‘Yeah. We don’t have any left.’
‘You promised to save me some.’
‘Err, I don’t think so.’
‘No. You owe me, Michael,’ he said in the creepiest, most menacing voice he could muster.
The older boy looked suddenly worried. ‘Who is this?’
‘The guy you cheated at work, remember?’ He showed Michael the eggs in his hairy palm. ‘Hand over your loot or else.’
‘What the hell? I wasn’t being serious. Besides, I’ve eaten most of it.’
‘That’s OK. I’ll have the rest.’
Michael snorted. ‘Get lost, you weirdo. And if you throw those eggs, you’re dead meat. Or maybe I’ll call the cops. We have security cameras out front.’
Jason almost crushed one of the eggs in his hand; he couldn’t think of what to say. Michael saw him hesitate and laughed, shutting the door with a loud slam.
His face was now boiling under the rubber werewolf mask. He stomped back to his bike but stopped when he noticed Michael’s bomb of a car parked on the grassy verge.
The security camera was mounted low on the side of the garage, mainly pointing towards the front door. Not great coverage. Besides, he hadn’t taken off his mask. His face wasn’t captured on film.
Jason wheeled his bike towards the car, pretending to fuss over his backpack. After a quick glance around, he put his back to the camera and cracked each egg, letting the slime ooze down the gap between the car’s bonnet and the windscreen. A nasty, smelly surprise for later.
A wind had picked up, and dead leaves were blowing down the dark road. Jason pedalled away from Michael’s house, chuckling at his prank when a paper flyer got caught behind his handlebars. It had a black-and-white cartoon of a creepy old house with a skeletal tree, pumpkins and bats out the front. Ghosts and spiders looked out from the house’s windows.
Jason read the text at the bottom: ‘You are invited to the Grand Opening of the Fright Night House of Horrors! Treats and terror guaranteed. 31st October at 13 Tinsmith Circle, Peak Hill. Prepare to scream!’ He couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe tonight was turning around after all.
There was a small map in the corner with directions to a part of the suburb he wasn’t familiar with. A good thing, too, because Google Maps wasn’t picking up the address on his phone. As he followed the directions, he passed older kids walking on the footpath, dressed in costumes with candy in their bags. The flyer did say treats were guaranteed. Maybe they had an enormous stash that the younger kids hadn’t raided?
He peered at the map on the flyer, looking for the last turn-off. A dense fog covered the ground like someone had poured out liquid nitrogen. His pulse was fast, and he realised he was taking shallow breaths.
Jason turned down Tinsmith Circle into what looked like a housing estate abandoned early on in construction; some of the lots were uncleared or now overgrown. At number 13, a large, dark house loomed up. He wasn’t disappointed. It was done in an old, gothic style, reminding him of Great Expectations meets Edward Scissorhands. He only knew about the first movie because they had studied it in English. But as he drew closer, he noticed the place was empty of people, and no lights were on.
Jason dismounted his bike and kicked down the stand. The decorations were mind-blowing; in the dark, they almost looked real. Huge hairy spiders were attached to the side of the house, and the garden was covered in fake webs littered with smaller spiders. Black crows with real-looking feathers were arranged on a wire running from an old craggily tree to the top turret of the house. A green-skinned witch on a broom was suspended from a branch with a finger pointing to the house. A skeletal mummy lay on the front yard like it was pulling itself towards you with a demented smile. There was an overgrown demonic pumpkin patch, tombstones, a demon with a scythe, more mummies wrapped in bandages, zombies, a human-sized Venus Flytrap, wolfman, Frankenstein, ghosts and the headless horseman. The place had everything. Except people.
Jason clung to the last shred of hope as he walked up the porch steps. At the front door was a sign that read: ‘Grand Opening delayed due to unforeseen circumstances. Apologies for any inconvenience.’ A large vampire lay asleep in a coffin next to the sign, almost like it was the doorman.
‘Unbelievable.’ Jason’s shoulders slumped, and he sat down on the porch steps. Talk about the worst luck ever. He slid off his backpack, unzipped it and pulled out a foil package. At least the Betty Burger and chips he’d decided to pay himself as an overtime bonus were still warm. Jason had cooked the food specially for himself and Freddy, but now one would go to waste.
The thought of Freddy eating pizzas with his perfect nuclear family made his stomach harden. But only for a moment. What other kid could say they had eaten dinner at a Halloween horror house? He knew what his dad would say about it.
Jason pulled off his costume and started eating, realising how hungry he was. Whoever had pulled this scary ensemble together had done an awesome job. He fished out the flyer again, but it had no names, not even a company listed. Weird that they hadn’t advertised this at the school or in the local paper. Unless it was due to the ‘unforeseen circumstances’. But then, why was this flyer blowing around?
He ate the burger too fast, slowing down when he got to the chips. He ended up putting the unfinished chip box to one side next to his backpack. The taste of the onion bothered him, so he crammed four pellets of Juicy Fruit chewing gum into his mouth.
It was time to explore. The windows of the house were blacked out, so he couldn’t see inside, and the front door was locked. On a whim, he pressed the doorbell.
Dracula awakened inside the coffin with its plastic eyelids flicking up, ‘Mwahahaha! Welcome to the Fright Night Horror House.’ The vampire’s LED eyes flashed red in time with the recorded message. ‘Insert your gold coin in the slot and prepare to scream!’
There was a creaking noise from behind, and Jason whirled around, expecting to see another kid. No one was there, only dry leaves blowing in the front yard.
Then he noticed the black rat decoration on the bottom step. Had that thing been there before? He couldn’t remember. But the detail was incredible, right down to the individual hairs on its fur and the scaly appearance of its tail. Even the teeth were yellow.
He didn’t like it. It was an ugly little thing with its beady little eyes looking right at him. ‘Do you know where I can find some candy, little mouse?’ Jason pulled out his chewing gum and squashed it over the rodent’s eyes.
‘Prepare to scream. Insert your gold coin now,’ said a robotic voice from behind.
Jason jumped. Dracula’s eyes were still open and glowing red. Weird; the sign said things were closed for the night. He removed a two-dollar coin from his pocket and shoved it into the slot. There was a loud ka-dunk noise and a clicking sound.
A creepy melody, like an out-of-tune Mr Whippy van, began to play from somewhere above.
Jason left the front porch and looked up. A clown had appeared and was riding a unicycle back and forth across the roof. As he watched, the head of the clown slowly rotated in his direction, revealing a row of shark-like teeth. It was carrying a red balloon. Clearly a Stephen King rip-off, but still creepy.
There was a loud female cackle to his left. The witch was flying in circles below the craggy tree. The pumpkins in the garden glowed in different colours.
The crows on the wire were now squawking, their eyes glowing orange, their beaks opening and closing. Their heads slowly turned in his direction. The mummy with the demented smile was crawling towards him. That was impressive; he guessed there must be a pulley system or tracks helping the robot to move forward.
The clown on the roof disappeared, and now a ballerina, her skin blue and covered in Frankenstein-type stitches, pirouetted in its place. The robot looked very life-like, but the movements were jerky and unnatural, giving Jason an uncanny valley moment.
Suddenly, the music stopped, and the ballerina stopped halfway through her dance. The witch slowed down, the lights no longer flashed in the pumpkins, and the other robots grew still. No wonder the place was shut. Something was broken.
It was time to face the facts; it just wasn’t his Halloween this year. For the first time ever, he would be going home empty-handed.
‘No way,’ he said to himself. He didn’t want to go home like this. Jason returned to the porch, grabbing a few chips from the cardboard box to munch. If he thought about it, it wasn’t so much about the candy but about the experience.
Time to have some fun.
Jason grabbed two long fries and pushed them into the large nostrils of the vampire. He stood back and had a good laugh. Then he ran down the porch steps and over to the witch with the bony finger, bending it upwards so that she was picking her nose. To the mummies and skeletons, he arranged them into lewd positions. This was better than candy any day. As a parting souvenir, he selected one of the best-looking spiders from the garden and tucked it under his arm.
It was time to leave. Jason headed back to the porch to collect his bag and werewolf costume.
The rat was gone from the steps. So were most of the chips.
‘What the hell?’
‘Prepare to scream.’ The words were deep and drawn out, like the vampire was running low on power. The eyes were no longer glowing LEDs; he could see the detail of the red corneas and the black pupils with the fire dancing within.
‘Holy shit!’ he said, recoiling.
The hairy spider tucked under his arm suddenly wriggled. It dropped from his grip and scuttled across the porch and over the side.
Jason screamed.
Scratching noises were coming from behind him. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder. A group of rats were around his bag; they had pulled out the Betty Burger meant for Freddy and started eating it.
A head popped down from the roof. The clown smiled at him upside down and wriggled its eyebrows.
Jason screamed again and ran down the steps and along the path. A hand of rotting flesh burst up from the ground near the tombstones. It grabbed his right ankle, and he tripped, copping a face full of dead grass and dirt. Another hand shot up and pinned down his left ankle.
He clawed at the ground, trying to pull himself away. He wasn’t the only one. The skeletal mummy with the demented smile slowly crawled towards him, gnashing its blackened teeth together.
Jason ripped his right foot out of the zombie’s hand and pushed up from the ground. He turned over and tried to free his other ankle when something hairy crawled up his back. There was a sharp sting in his neck, followed by intense pain spreading down and across his left shoulder blade.
An oversized spider, possibly the one he’d tried to steal, jumped down and crouched beside him, waiting.
Jason’s heartbeat slowed down. His vision blurred. The clown somersaulted down from the roof and started juggling red balls. The witch, no longer attached to the tree, flew around the top of the house, cackling. The ballerina still danced on the roof, but she now moved with perfect grace.
The vampire from the porch raised his arms and stepped out of the coffin. It pulled a large, ornate key from its trouser pocket and unlocked the front door.
The door swung open, sending out a stale odour. The space between the doorframe rippled like a dark pond.
Something very bad was in there. Something familiar yet … alien. And he had to get away.
Jason tried to free himself, but his muscles were no longer working properly. It took all his willpower to raise his right foot and kick the other zombie hand still holding his left leg. His body felt weirdly disconnected and numb.
The demon with the scythe loomed before him. Jason tried to scream, but no sound came out. The demon grabbed one leg while the clown took the other. Together, they grinned and dragged him towards the house and the black mirror-like surface inside the front door.
Jason could no longer move. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
The black mirror rippled more violently as a boy his age appeared on the porch. He came down the steps and into the light of the full moon.
The resemblance to himself was striking, as though the boy was his double or clone. And yet, there was something wrong with his eyes. Jason would have shuddered, but his body was paralysed.
The boy was carrying two full candy buckets. He looked down at Jason, his lips twisting into a chilling smile. ‘Looking for some candy?’ he asked, holding up the lollies.
The demon yanked Jason’s mouth open.
The boy knelt beside him. ‘I see you, Jason. I am you. I know what it is that you want.’ He tilted the buckets, pouring lollies down Jason’s throat. The normal reflex would have been to gag or choke, but the spider toxin had done its work.
‘You don’t have to grow up,’ said the boy, speaking in a voice identical to his own. ‘For you, it can be Halloween every night.’ He kept pouring the lollies, but now they fell past Jason’s mouth and onto the ground.
There was a mild burning sensation in his lungs as his airways were blocked off. Even the venom couldn’t completely dull that out.
The Jason look-a-like stopped and stood back, watching, the candy buckets now empty. The other Halloween decorations— the witch, the vampire, the ballerina, all of them— had come to stand around him, creating a macabre audience.
Jason’s vision tunnelled until it existed no more. His heart spasmed and stopped. Then there was nothing.
The next morning, the electrician arrived to finish the repairs at the Fright Night House of Horrors. As he pulled up, he saw the owner, a pale man with sunken eyes and no hair, loading a BMX bike and a backpack into the back of his black Pontiac Catalina.
‘Hey,’ said Merv, the electrician, as he climbed out of his ute.
The man looked in Merv’s direction and quickly shut the car boot. Without saying a word, he limped up the pathway to the house and unlocked the front door. The main switchboard for all the robotics, music and lighting was inside a dedicated room near the front of the house.
Merv followed. When they got inside, the man turned to him, ‘It’s rats.’ He raised his finger as though giving a sermon. ‘Rats chewing on the wiring. I’m sure of it.’
‘No problem, I’ll check it out. Probably take a few hours.’
The owner pulled a face. ‘I’ll be back in one.’ He disappeared out the front door.
Merv spent the time checking the wiring and testing each system. But nothing was wrong. He started the program from the top and headed outside to check each robot when he stopped in front of something he didn’t remember. Like the other decorations, the level of detail was outstanding, right down to the hair, eyelashes and fingernails. This one was of a teenage boy, his skin bluish-purple and his blood-shot eyes filled with lunatic joy. The most disturbing thing was his enlarged mouth, full of candy and slime. Looped over his arm was a large bucket packed with lollies.
Merv reached out to take a fruit chew when someone cleared their throat behind him.
‘That’s not for you,’ said the owner.
Merv retracted his hand. ‘This one’s new, isn’t it? Looks fantastic. Where did you get these made?’
‘It is not new. Have you fixed the system?’ His tone was grumpy, and he scrunched his thin lips together.
‘Well, yeah. There wasn’t anything wrong.’
The old man’s eyes enlarged. He dug out his brown wallet and handed over some cash. ‘Then our business is done.’
Merv took the hint and pocketed the money. He returned to the house, packed up his tools and met the owner on the front porch. ‘Feel free to call us if you have any more problems,’ he said as the owner locked the front door. But the old man didn’t say anything; he just turned and limped towards his Pontiac Catalina.
On the way, Merv noticed him pick up a Betty’s Burger wrapper from the garden and scrunch it into his pocket.
- Tales for the Midnight Hour - October 23, 2024
- No. 13 Tinsmith Circle - October 31, 2023
- High Tea - May 9, 2023
