Knock, Knock, Knock

There’s something creeping in the abandoned Vickers’ garden. When Warren and Kelly go to investigate on All Hallow’s Eve, what will they find?

The old Vickers house sat at the end of Quaintview Street, gaping windows with broken glass teeth gulping down laughter and light. It had been abandoned since forever, or at least thirty years, which was basically the same thing as far as Warren was concerned. That was nearly as old as his parents, which made it ancient. No-one in the schoolyard could agree on why it was deserted - murdered kids, terrifying ghosts, gas leaks and crazy axe murderers all did the rounds when the Vickers house came up at sleepovers and school camps. Everyone knew the Vickers house. No-one went near it, because if it wasn’t haunted to start with it surely had to be now. No non-haunted house looked like the old Vickers house.

But tonight there was a light in the Vickers’ garden.

Warren poked his head over the ragged hedge, swaying to and fro as Kelly struggled to keep him aloft. Rustling drew his attention, furtive movements in the tangled mess of the flowerbeds.

“Oi! You can’t be guising in here!”

A pale oval of a face turned to stare up at him, so bright it seemed to produce its own luminescence. Startled eyes, grey and colourless, met Warren’s. He offered a jagged, gap-toothed smile and beckoned the other kid over. “You won’t get nothing in this ol’ dump. Come with us!”

“Uh-oh.” Kelly’s quiet indication of error reached Warren’s ears at the same moment sudden rocking instability met his feet, and with a yelp they both tumbled to the ground. By the time the pair had extricated themselves from the pile and laid claim to such limbs, hats and sundry items as were theirs, the kid from the garden had managed to cross the fence. He must have been really good at sneaking around, Warren reckoned, since the hedge looked like an impassable mass of leaves and briars to him.

“Hey. I’m Warren. Nice ta meet’cha.”

The pale kid didn’t return Warren’s smile, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and glancing over his shoulder with fast, jerky movements, as though at any moment some cheesy storybook monster might leap out at him.

“What are you?” Kelly’s voice cut through the quiet serenade of cicadas like a quarter tonne of explosive going through tissue paper, and the new kid flinched.

In a barely-there whisper, he managed “I’m a ghost.” His head twitched, bird-like, to glance behind him, but the hedge remained intact and monster-free.

“You don’t look much— ow!”

Warren jabbed an elbow hard into Kelly’s ribs. “Awesome! I’m a pirate! Yaaarrr!”

To emphasise his piratical nature, Warren tugged his tricorn hat down low and waved his hooked hand. The hook half-detached from the fake cuff, and he had to drop his pillowcase and wooden sword to jam it back into place. Muffled by concentration - specifically his tongue protruding from his mouth as he peered at the misbehaving hook - he continued when Kelly was not forthcoming. “An’ Kelly’s a witch! A ghost is really cool, we can guise together!”

“I-I’d better not. My d-dad’ll be angry if I—“

“Aw, come on! You already got all the way out here! Come oooonnnn! It’ll be fun!” Without looking to see if his impassioned speech had worked, Warren took off down the street, heading towards the lights of the paper lanterns strung between houses. Neither Kelly nor the new kid made to follow him.

Kelly broke the silence with a small cough, rubbing one arm nervously. For a moment, the shadows made her eyes seem older than the eyes of a ten year old had any right to be. “If your dad’ll really go ballistic, you don’t have to come. But...”

She looked down the street, to where Warren was waiting in a pool of golden lantern light, waving frantically in their direction. “I can’t say it’ll be fine, but it will be fun. Just for tonight.”

The pale kid cast one final glance up at the looming Vickers house before nodding. “O-okay.”

“Well, come on then.” And just like that, her voice was bold and loud and sure once more, the fire in it setting light to her eyes and making them gleam.

So, a ghost, a pirate and a witch went guising on All Hallow’s Eve.

Knock, knock, knock, here we are,

We’re at your door, we’ve travelled far.

Hands behind their backs, Warren and Kelly sang and were met with warm smiles and candy, wrapped tight in brightly coloured paper. In the shadows just outside the light spilling from the open doorway, the new kid watched, a wonderstruck look spread across pale features.

Spirits and ghouls attend your home,

On this night when all things roam.

Even paler than before, if that was at all possible, the third kid joined in the song at the next house, jostled front and centre by his grinning peers. Afterwards, he stared down at the candy in his hands, thin fingers gripping it so hard a toffee slipped its wrappings and pinged off into the darkness.

Come hither then, bring gifts and treats,

For the ghosts do love their sweets.

After three houses, the new kid was spilling sweets everywhere. They slipped between his fingers as he struggled to hold candied nuts and toffees and hard-boiled candies and chewy lollies.

“Put it in your bag, come on!” Warren managed around a mouthful of sticky sugar, already half off the steps and away to the next glowing spot of light, the promise of more sweets.

Leave toffee for faeries, apples for trolls,

Nuts for the ravens, to spirits give candy-coals.

“I d-don’t have a bag...” whispered their new friend, cringing away. Warren stared, mouth and eyes open wide, then glanced down at his own pillowcase. Candy winked colourfully back at him from the depths.

“I guess you could have mi—“

“Here.” Kelly thrust her pillowcase into the new kid’s hands, deftly catching scattering candy as he fumbled the cloth bag open. Sweets poured in, in a shower of sugar and bright colour.

Treat all things well, do not fear,

For spirits well-fed guard those they hold dear.

“I can use my hat,” she said as Warren shot her an incredulous look, which only deepened as she whipped off her meticulously hand-sewn witch’s hat from atop her inky curls.

“But what about your ca—“ This time it was Warren’s turn to have his mouth snap shut, not through physical force but from the sheer emotion seething in Kelly’s glare. Beside them, the new boy hadn’t noticed anything amiss, his face alight as he stared at the contents of the pillowcase grasped in his small hands.

With one shaking hand, he reached down to pluck a sweet from the multitude and popped it into his mouth. A brilliant joy suffused his face, and Warren quite forgot any objections he might have been about to voice.

Good luck shall follow in the wake of night,

Sweet candy things bring summer light.

Two faces flushed rosy with sugar and fun, a third still pale but glowing with unmistakable enjoyment and a smile that seemed almost wider than the face it was on, flitted between houses, singing their song. Sweets fell like rain into pillowcases - and one witch’s hat - fuelling their excitement. Among the throngs of kids on the streets that night, none were as full of laughter as the trio of a pirate, a witch and a ghost.

Knock, knock, knock, and now we away,

Leaving smiles and good fortune to stay.

As eyes grew heavy with sleep, gritty round the edges and slow to open, the three children grinned at each other. Lips stained with sugar, pillowcases filled to bursting and sweets falling from bulging pockets, they all agreed that tonight had been a great night. Perhaps even the best night.

Tired feet took them back to Warren’s house, where his parents showered him in hugs and kisses. It was possible to map their features onto Warren, albeit piecemeal - the curve of a nose, the pale colour of the hair, kind eyes shining above soft cheekbones. Despite that they looked nothing like Kelly, they greeted her just as warmly, gathering her up in comfort and warmth, ushering both children into the house.

On the threshold, the kids paused to say farewell to their new friend, who stood alone on the step, clutching his pillowcase full of treats. Despite his isolation, and the shadows creeping in at the edges as lanterns and lights were doused along the street, his smile was as bright as ever. He raised a hand, going pale and translucent at the edges, and waved.

“Thanks! I did have fun!” And he turned and ran down the street, towards the old Vickers house that sat at the end of Quaintview Street and had been abandoned since forever.