Her Last Halloween
Dusk fell over the small town, and porch lights flared. She reached for the large, orange plastic bowl and set it on the kitchen counter. Above the refrigerator, she had stored a month's worth of fun-size candies. Now she reached up high to retrieve the bags of treats and spill them into the vacant bowl. With two hands she hefted the collection of sweets and carried it to the front door. The children would begin arriving soon, and she wanted to be prepared.
On the front porch, she sat down in the old wicker rocker that her own grandmother had used on Halloween nights so long ago. Was it true? She was a grandmother this Halloween? True, perhaps, but hard to believe. She brushed thick, free-floating hair back along the side of her head. Her withered fingers weaved gray strands in among jet-black cords of thick hair. She had her mother's hair. It was one of her gifts.
She could smell the smoke of the pumpkin candles being lit down the street. Two or three houses down the block a young mother wheeled her toddler down the sidewalk, as father lit smiling clown-faced jack-o-lanterns. The traditions were alive and well on this moonlit night. A cat jumped onto the porch rail and cried a plaintive wail. The moan stirred her out of wandering thoughts and back to the task at hand. She reached beside the rocker to a small box of matches and stood to light her own pumpkins.
Out on the lawn, dew had already started to condense and cling to blades of grass mottled with the brown of Fall. Several hollowed pumpkins littered her yard. Each carved visage more complex than the last it seemed. Kneeling, she removed the cap and struck a match. The flame erupted and sulfur bit at the tender passages of her nose. A shiver went through her. She lit the virgin wick and replaced the lid.
She hobbled back to her perch on the stoop and waited. Although she knew this would be her last Halloween, she was determined to leave her mark.
THE END