The Halloween Project 2024 - Story 8: Mr. Tricks - Part Four

Last story of 2024. We check in on a recurring character from 2020, 2022 and 2023. (Mr. Tricks Part One), (Mr. Tricks Part Two), (Mr. Tricks Part Three)

“Wick? Hey, Wick?” Chloe called from the bedroom, “Are you really going to go to the party dressed as a werewolf? I mean, really? Look at me. Come here, look at me.”

Brunswick walked from the small apartment living room to the bedroom. He was covered with faux fur gloves and a mask and stopped to take out his fake fangs. He stood in the doorway and took a glance at Chloe, now poured into a Wonder Woman costume, bustier and all.

Without hesitation he said, “Holy Golden Lasso girl, you look…,” then he paused for emphasis and a couple of brownie points, “You look…incredible!”

And to Brunswick, she definitely did. Chloe was just this side of pretty, and comely in a way that made her the envy of lots of her college senior classmates. She had confidence and intelligence. She was smart enough to know the difference between real and fake. Bullshit and truth. She contained a quirky side that Brunswick loved. Chloe embraced calculus, statistics, astrology, Bengal cats, tarot cards, computer coding, a belief in all sorts of myths and legends and Halloween. She cried at Hallmark movies that Brunswick laughed at, and held sway in any debate or discussion on any topic ranging from politics, to energy, to the monetary component of space exploration.

And she looked tremendous in a Wonder Woman costume. But her past was more than broken, just like Brunswick’s.

His mother left the family, simply disappeared one day, when Brunswick was a child, loading the car with cardboard boxes of clothes and driving west. His father poured himself an early grave, the cemetery plot better filled with rye whiskey than dirt. Chloe’s mother died when Chloe was only five. A heart attack claimed her. Her father was distant, not able to handle a young daughter, a career gone awry and the loss of his wife.

And two wounded souls, bright and fractured, both inside and out, found each other.

And so did Mr. Tricks.

The party had been raging for hours. It was well after midnight and a good deal of drinking, laughter and close up dancing was in progress. The house and backyard were filled with revelers. A trio of cheerleaders who were all men were chatting up Vampirella, a bus driver and a cop, all women. A couple mummies kept getting their wraps either unwound or soaked with beer. Mario was doing monkey chugs hanging from a swing set. Chloe and Brun, as his friends called him, found themselves alone in the backyard, seated in two lawn chairs. Holding hands, Chloe looked across and said…

Wick interrupted before she could speak, ”I love you, Chloe.”

They had been dating since freshman year. Brunswick, now 21, Chloe, 20. Two months ago in September they moved in together in a cheap apartment two blocks from campus. This upcoming summer after graduation they had planned a two month trip to Europe. They sometimes joked that maybe they’d find somewhere to get married. On the banks of the Seine, on a mountaintop in Switzerland, in a terraced village in Cinque Terre. They just fit perfectly and she was all he wanted. And maybe a job. He studied film which all but guaranteed little work, as a social worker Chloe might have a much better chance. They didn’t care where they landed as long as they were together.

A costumed figure moved slowly, measured steps, across the lawn in their direction. From across the yard it looked like a character in an Australian outback film. Large floppy hat covering one side of its face, long drover coat to the grass top. Some special effect made the coat seem like it was undulating.

”Wow, get a load of that guy,” Chloe said.

When Brun turned he instinctively squeezed Chloe’s hand very tightly, too tightly.

”Ouch, Wick!” she blurted.

”Come on, we’ve got to go. Come on, quick, now!” His voice had ramped from love to alarm. He jumped to his feet, pulling Chloe but she protested.

”No, no! It’s too much fun. I want another beer and I have to go see Amanda’s costume,” she answered.

The figure steadily approached and it was too late. As it loomed directly in front of them Brun lost his legs and flopped back into the chair.

”Brunswick,” it hissed, more the sound of a cheese grater against a vocal chord than a voice. Then it said again, “Brunswick.”

“Mr. Tricks,” Brun whispered. He was struck with the most overwhelming terror he had ever experienced. Worse, by far, then when he was 16 or 20, the last times he had seen it. The piercing, bloodshot single eye. The face, weathered and chapped, too long drained of blood and energy. And then the face changed; a snarling dog, a mist, a pig’s nose, a small flame, a playing card, a lizard. The sleeves and chest beneath the coat writhed. The hands hung, long and stark. Chloe sat, mouth agape, not as much afraid as entranced.

”Hold my hand, Brunswick,” and just as in the past Brun did exactly as he was told. “Do you remember, Brunswick? Your Halloween trick or treat friend’s leg sticking out of the pond?Your pledge mates at the base of the lighthouse? Do you remember?” its voice snarled almost imperceptibly.

”Yes,” Brunswick managed without breath.

”Then come with me. Now. It is time. I’ve waited for you, and it’s time. Brunswick. Come.”

Somehow, despite his broken past or because of it, Brun found a beam, not of courage, but of defiance. Defiance against his long-gone mother, his lost father, and the people that Tricks had taken.

”No,” Brun said.

”Oh, Brunswick,” the thing hissed, “but you will. Eventually, you will come with me. You have no choice.” And Brun pulled his hand back.

Mr. Tricks looked down at Brun for a long time then turned his gaze to Chloe. Slowly, with a measured gesture, it raised his hand to her. The noise around them, still loud and raucous, music blaring, laughter and shouting died away. Brun could not move. He tried to push himself from the chair, move his legs and nothing worked.

Chloe had never spoken, never blinked, only stared at the figure before her. She raised her beautiful face, then raised her hand. Their fingers clenched. The eye of Tricks widened, bloodshot squirming within its orb. Chloe slowly rose. Brun tried to scream and nothing came.

They turned, hand in hand, and took a step away.

Mr. Tricks turned and looked back at Brun.

”You will come one day, Brunswick. Or you will continue…to lose.”

Then it turned once again, the crowd somehow parting and Chloe disappeared into the night.

Into the darkness.

Into Brunswick’s past.