Mr. Haddock's Halloween Emporium

Awakened by an odd creak from the wooden plank floor my eyes flew open in the dark room. My body stiffened in fear, and my full bladder threatened to betray me. Someone, something unwelcome, was here. Scanning the other eleven beds with the panicked movement of my eyes I observed nothing. Refocusing, a shadow darker than the predawn night floated from one orphan bed to another. It leaned down for a moment and moved to the next. Leather soles tapped softly as the monster came closer. I shut my eyes to feign sleep and prayed I wouldn't be chosen to sate the creature's appetite. Odors of rotted cabbage filled my nostrils as the monster leaned over me. A cold wet tongue licked my jaw and slithered up my cheek. The taster lingered at my temple and gurgled,

"Mmmm, Moravian."

A pencil scratched on dry paper and sent chills up my spine like a fingernail on a chalkboard. A trapped scream bounced around my chest as my bladder betrayed me and hot urine warmed my crotch. The shadow monster shuffled to the next bed. Minutes later, it was gone.

Sixteen hours earlier two buses had offloaded thirty-six boys in front of the Shady Grove Boys Home outside of New Smyrna, Georgia. All of us were new transfers from foster homes and orphanages as far as three states away. Our ages ranged from eight to seventeen, and a hierarchy was established within minutes of our arrival. Black and blue bruises on my arm branded me near the bottom of the new pecking order. Huey, in the bed beside mine, had a few less. Henry to my right had none.

Two months earlier my twelve-year-old world was safe and secure in my parents' house on Tego Bay. Judge Torrance had placed me at the Shady Grove Boys Home a hundred miles from my home. My fried-chicken-smelling warden with Child Services had fingered the hexagon amulet hanging from her neck and whispered,

"The sins of the father are visited upon the children."

I didn't know what she meant but was told that by the time my parents served their time in Federal prison, I would be emancipated. Naïve to their fraud I was ill-prepared to be thrust into the orphan’s world of the unwanted.

Able to take a deep breath as dawn broke outside the window, sour teen sweat, dirty socks, with a lace of pine sol blended into the dusty air and I coughed. Heavy rhythmic breathing came from Henry's bed to my right, as the sheet rose and fell with an increased pace, ending with a shuttered gasp. I shucked my underwear off and pulled on dry ones I kept under my pillow. A flapping trombone of air blasted from across the room and someone snickered and said,

"Good one, Randy."

"Someone just blew their brains out their ass," said another and laughed.

I didn't laugh. Attention was unwanted. My bruised arms had learned the lesson.

"I smell bacon," a bass voice asked.

Blankets were tossed aside and eleven boys jumped up and made their beds. Huey, from the bed to my left said,

"Get up, Charley. I heard there will be sausages, bacon, and pancakes for breakfast."

"You're lying," I said, "Where did you hear that?"

"Billy, the pimply assistant in the kitchen told me. The New Smyrna town folk will feed us for a month to welcome us. They have a thing for orphans. After breakfast, lunch will be half pound cheeseburgers and French fries. Tonight we eat steak. He said they’re a bit weird."

"What's weird about that?" I said.

"They will stare while we eat. It sounds weird to me but I don't care. I'm tired of cereal and bologna," he said.

The thought of hot pancakes, slathered with butter, and dripping with syrup abated my monster-ginned fear. A veiled comradery consumed the atmosphere and I followed the others to the dining hall with my new friend Huey.

For the first time in two months, things were looking up.

***

Huey wasn't lying. Loaded platters covered the dining hall tables decorated in orange and black. Steaming pancakes, bottles of warmed maple syrup, slabs of softened butter, and trays of bacon and sausage awaited us. Men and women from New Smyrna lined the outer walls. Their jolly faces beamed at us like they were drugged up Santa's on Christmas morning.

Mr. Jordan, the director of Shady Grove was all smiles when he said,

"Good morning boys. The fine folk of New Smyrna are pleased to serve you in their tradition of Halloween. Eat up! After breakfast, we will walk into town for Halloween masks gifted by Mr. Haddock's Emporium. Let's show our appreciation for them," and clapped his hands.

We all perfunctorily clapped our hands and shouted, "Thank you," and attacked the breakfast platters like rescued castaways from a deserted island.

Our benefactors leered, smiled, laughed, and patted each other's backs in self-congratulation. Like Huey, I didn't care. This was going to be a good day.

"What mask are you going to pick?" Huey said as he crammed a sausage link in his mouth, "I'm going to be a pirate."

"We get to pick?" I said. "I want to be a zombie," I said.

"That fits," said Huey, "You already stink like the walking dead."

I laughed for the first time in months and crammed a forkful of syrup-laden pancakes into my mouth.

***

With our bellies full we paraded into town single file. The people of New Smyrna stopped on the sidewalk and clapped as we passed. Women in apron-covered dresses waved from their front porches welcoming us. Mr. Haddock's Halloween Emporium lay in the center of town and Mr. Jordan called us to a halt.

"Boys, Mayor Jackson, wants to speak a word to you so pay attention," Mr. Jordan said.

"Welcome to New Smyrna. We are so happy you are here to celebrate a tradition that we have held for two hundred and ninety-nine years prior, this being the three-hundredth. A bit of history. Our German family's came from Massachusetts three hundred years ago to escape persecution of the English. Many didn't survive the journey and left many children without families so the Shady Grove Orphanage was established. Once a year we celebrate Halloween through acts of service for our freedom from tyranny. We invite you to Trick or Treat with us on All Hallows Eve. Choose your masks wisely from Mr. Haddock's fine selections. One of you will be chosen to be our Grand Marshal and attend the Halloween Feast at Haddocks Manor."

We stepped into the Emporium, and I flinched in fright at the realistic masks that adorned the walls.

Slashed bloody faces with jagged rips down their cheeks, crushed skulls with brain matter dripping over their ears, and soulless eyes frozen in contorted horror stared at me. Others with ghoulish lips displayed horrid gasps and wanted to speak the orphan's mantra, "Me. Me! Pick me."

Mr. Haddock, tall with thinning hair, stood behind a glass counter and peered down at me through rimless spectacles that rested on his long arched nose.

"Choose wisely son, you are what you wear," he said.

"Where are the traditional Halloween masks, like superheroes or zombies?" I asked.

"As an authentic Emporium of Halloween, we only celebrate true horror. Anything else, like imaginary superheroes or animated characters, are a sacrilege. Fear amplifies joy and horror amplifies happiness. People have driven hundreds of miles to experience the authenticity of my shop."

A red-faced monster with burned and shredded skin, dripping glazed plasma, charged toward me screaming,

"Arghhhhhh! It burns. I'm melting. Help me."

Huey whipped the mask off laughing,

"I scared ya, didn't I," he said, "You find any Zombies yet?"

"Not yet. Does this place give you the creeps?" I said.

"Nah, this place is the bomb," he said, "Hurry up, I think we only have fifteen minutes to choose."

I moved to the back of the store. A blue-gray mask with blackened flesh hanging off of its cheeks stared at me beside a boy with his head ripped open. Maggots hung out of the open skull like bits of white rice.

"Five minutes left boys or we will decide for you," Mr. Haddock announced.

The lurid boy's mask lured me. That could be me, I thought to myself. Wearing it in front of a mirror I shifted and the maggots wiggled like they were alive. The mask smelled like a rancid pickle.

I said, "This is me. I am the walking dead."

***

I think the entire population of New Smyrna surrounded us in front of Mr. Haddock's Halloween Emporium for the drawing. I hardly paid attention as I never won anything.

Mr. Haddock drew a slip from the jar and handed it to the Mayor.

"Who chose the maggot headed boy?" asked the Mayor.

In shock, I raised my hand. Huey punched my shoulder with the palm of his hand.

"You won Charley!" he said. The crowd cheered and the older orphan boys jeered.

"Come up here young man," the Mayor said and shook my hand as I stepped onto the porch.

"What's your name son?"

"Charlie Rose," I said.

"Congratulations Charlie," and he hung a sash over my shoulder. "As the grand marshal your first duty is to announce lunch and lead us to the town park."

"Let's eat," I yelled and led the way to the city park where cheeseburgers and fries awaited.

Minutes later, I sat on the grass and munched a burger beside Huey.

A plump woman wearing a flowery dress the size of a tent, pancake makeup, and a crooked wig stooped beside me, sniffed my hair, and pinched my cheek. Her breath reeked of soured wine.

"You're so sweet, Charley. I’m Mrs. Haddock. Congratulations on being our Grand Marshal," she said and walked away smiling.

The latest bite of hamburger swelled in my mouth and the previous one lurched in my stomach.

"Huey, I wish you were coming with me. Something about New Smyrna is creeping me out," as I spat the food to the ground.

***

The month flew by with no new bruises. We were served like kings by the citizens of New Smyrna as they promised. Rich, spice-laden pork, beef, and chicken were fed to us morning, noon, and night. On October thirty-first I was the honored guest at the Haddock's Halloween feast.

The grand affair was a dozen town leaders guzzling champagne like it was New Year's Eve. I sat at the foot of the long table wearing my mutilated boys mask with Mr. Haddock at the head wearing a black coat and tails. The conversation was in German and I couldn't understand. It was difficult to eat through the mask but they insisted I wear it. I was too nervous to be hungry anyway so I sipped the punch they had served me through a straw.

The punch made me woozy and two Mr. Haddocks appeared at the end of the table asking me in tandem,

"How are you Charley? Feeling okay?"

Words slurred from my mouth, "I… do'n…know. I feel funny."

The faces of the guests between us blurred and contorted like animated characters in a kaleidoscope. Mrs. Haddock's once pleasant face, now intent, appeared close to mine with red eyes blazing like hot coals.

Her rosy red lips parted and an icy black tongue licked my cheek.

"You are correct Chef Schmidt, he's definitely of Moravian descent, Mr. Haddock's favorite. A bit spicy for my tastes but I think he's ready for the spit. The spices we've been feeding the orphans have marinated quite well," she said, "Chef Schmidt, he's all yours. Please have our midnight meal ready when we return from the harvest at the orphanage."

The scent of rotted cabbage filled my nostrils as a man in a white Chef's smock tied my arms to the chair.

Mr. Haddock stood and raised his glass to his guests.

"Each of you have been assigned, by their choice of mask, an orphan from the boy's home as we chose Charley. We know how sensitive some of you are to look upon an innocent face when their life is taken. Remember, I know its All Hallow's Eve so have your fun, but take care their faces are removed while they are still alive. We've had record mask sales this year and must resupply the Emporium," he said, "Bring the body's to the meat freezer in town for all to enjoy our three hundredth grand holiday."

***

One year later.

The shadows of my eyes flew open in a dark room awakened by a creak of the wood plank floor. Surrounded by masks of tortured orphans in Mr. Haddock's Halloween Emporium, I stared across the room. Huey's once innocent face leered back with his mouth aghast. His mask of scorched skin, crisp black slashes crusted red, was speechless. Formaldehyde, like sour pickle juice, lingered in my rubbery thoughts. I had faint memories of the vat I had been drowned in after Chef Schmidt had bashed my skull in with a hammer and peeled my face off like a sushi chef. I remembered unbearable pain.

Two young boys stepped into the aisle between Huey and me. One wore a T-shirt that read Shady Grove Boy's Home. A scream rose from my rubbery lips, "Run boys. Run!" but to no avail because I could not utter a sound.

"Georgy, check this mask out. It has maggots feeding in its skull," the boy said, "I think I can hear it saying, 'Me. Me! Pick me'."

Mr. Haddock, tall with thinning hair, appeared beside him and peered down at me through rimless spectacles that rested on his long arched nose.

"Choose wisely for Halloween," he said, "You are what you wear."

***

Special Offer for All Vocal Members

Get 10% off today on your life-like Halloween Mask. Must be presented in person. Available while supplies last. No mail orders. No returns.

______________________________

Mr. Haddocks Halloween Emporium

666 Main Street

New Smyrna, Georgia, 98767

______________________________