One Good Deed
written by: Richard Bishop
My two major life events of 1967 were my visit to the World’s Fair in Montreal, and Janey deciding that Eric’s Halloween party was the perfect time to break up with me.
After she delivered the gut punch, I nodded and walked out the door of the house into the night, mingling with the swarm of trick-or-treaters. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I held them back.
Eric ran after me. “You okay, Bobby?”
I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. “Yeah.” Turning away, I stomped down the street, oblivious to my surroundings.
He called after me. “You need a ride? I can get someone to drive you home.”
Not bothering to turn around, I waved my hand in the air and kept walking.
Walking gave me time to sort out the emotional stew bubbling in my head. Sadness battled anger. Humiliation rose to the surface and dominated my thoughts. How could she do that in front of my friends? Had I been that bad of a boyfriend?
After wandering through the unfamiliar neighbourhood, I stopped in front of a house.
Still dressed in my hillbilly costume from the party, I paused and stared at the stream of costumed kids and parents flowing by. What the hell, I might as well knock on a few doors and load up on some treats. A sugar rush might cheer me up.
The house had a solitary pumpkin in the window lit by a flickering candle, and the carved devil’s face looked like a villain from a bad horror flick. Why is nobody stopping at this house? Looks friendly enough. If they didn’t want to give out candy, they wouldn’t have put a pumpkin in the window.
I moseyed up to the front door in my best hillbilly strut.
The lady who answered the door wore a flowered peasant dress, gold slippers, and a welcoming smile. She tied her black hair in a red dotted kerchief, and around her neck hung a pentagram on a gold chain.
Flickering candles illuminated the interior of the house. She got full points for atmosphere.
“Trick or treat.”
Her smile reminded me of a cat toying with a fresh mouse. “You look a little old for Samhain, but I’ll take what I’m sent. Come in.”
As she spoke, her hands wove a complex pattern and mumbled some words I could not hear.
As soon as I entered the room, I felt drowsy, like I’d been up all night cramming for a math test.
Since I was a little kid, my parents drummed into me not to go into strangers’ houses. With all the confidence of my seventeen years, I stepped into the marble foyer.
I paused, trying to clear my head, but the fog remained, and I swayed on my feet.
Three female faces stared up at me from the marble floor. One looked left, one right, and the middle one stared at me. I could swear the middle one winked, but I couldn’t concentrate.
I blinked, and the face remained immobile.
In a low, sultry voice, she asked, “What do you really want?”
Oh, oh, I’d just seen The Graduate with Janey, and I knew where this might be going.
“Ah, no thanks.”
She laughed. “Are you sure, Bobby? Don’t worry, I’m nothing like Mrs. Robinson.”
How did she know my name? She must be one of Mom’s bridge club friends.
“I’m sure Mrs. ….”
“Lenore, call me Lenore.”
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to think of a way to leave without offending one of my mom’s friends or ending up doing something I shouldn’t.
Lenore gestured to the hallway behind her. “Come, so I can do my good deed for the year.”
She grabbed my hand and towed me along the hall into a back room.
I followed her down the hall into a bedroom lit by candles held in brass candlesticks. The walls were pure white, the carpet a deep scarlet, and the rosy pink ceiling reminded me of the dawn. At the far end of the room was an oak table. Resting on the table was a statue of a bare-breasted woman in a long, flowing dress that reached down to her ankles. The statue’s arms held a half-moon crown over its head. At the foot of the statue was a silver chalice filled with a red liquid. Two sticks of incense burned in a small brass holder in front of the chalice. The room had the aroma of new hay and wet earth after a rainstorm.
Lenore dragged me to the altar. “Drink from the cup.”
Should I?
She chanted in a language resembling crows cawing.
Still in a fog, I raised the chalice to my lips and sipped the sweet liquid.
As she sang, she danced and touched my head with a small brush made from twigs.
The song ended, and she said my name three times. “Bobby Malone, Bobby Malone, Bobby Malone.”
My mind went blank.
By the time I could think again, she had hustled me out the front door and shoved me onto the walkway.
When I hit the sidewalk, no trick-or-treaters were plying their trade.
How long was I in there?
I jogged home, and as my head cleared, the pain from the breakup left my shoulders. Did that really happen?
At school the next day, Eric and my other friends gave me the once-over and made sure I was okay. I smiled and explained that I was not angry at Janey.
After graduation, I didn’t wait to be drafted and signed up for a hitch in the Air Force. On my first furlough, I looked up Lenore to see if it was all in my head.
While driving to Lenore’s house, I wasn’t sure what I intended. I parked the car and scouted the street on foot until I found the house. A faded For Sale sign leaned drunkenly in the middle of a weed-choked front lawn that had not been cut in eons. I approached the neighbor on the right, who was busy planting flowers in her garden.
“Excuse me, how long has that house been for sale?”
The woman put down her trowel. “Nine or ten years, I guess. The old lady who owned it died in the house, and it was a couple of months before they found her.”
“The old lady who lived there, her name wouldn’t be Lenore?”
She thought for a minute. “I believe it was. Why? Are you interested in buying it? I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Why?”
“They say it’s haunted.”
“Haunted?”
She looked up and down the street to see if anyone was listening. “Late at night, I’ve seen strange lights inside the house, and sometimes I’ve heard crows.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the advice.”
The neighbor returned to her gardening, and I walked toward the abandoned house.
On the weed-covered walk, I spread my hands and whispered, “Thanks, Lenore.”
Faint, ghostly laughter filled the air.
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