The Wandering Spirit

A very well-known figure in the sleepy town of Stonebrook was the spirit of the Wandering child. Several people had stories pertaining to this soul from teachers to taxi drivers. Nearly every story was the same. Someone would see a child about nine or ten years old standing in the distance. Their clothes were tattered, a trash bag in their hand. Their face was obscured by shoulder-length hair. After a short encounter, the child would disappear.

Cyrus always found the story of this child so sad. His parents owned a foster care shelter for kids and he had seen many of them arrive in similar conditions. Nothing was known about this spirit except that they always kept a distance from any witnesses to tell what was shadowed by their unkempt hair. No one seemed sure about the child’s gender, either. They were completely and unequivocally unknown.

That is, until Halloween night. Cyrus decided to forgo trick-or-treating and decided to stay at the foster care center instead while his parents took the younger kids of the foster care out to collect some candy. With a large bowl of treats waiting on a stool by the door, Cyrus sat in the living room to watch some horror movie specials instead. It was starting to get late, and the wind began to pick up outside. Trick-or-treaters became more sparse. Towards the end of the night, there was a ring on the doorbell.

Having done this all night, Cyrus didn’t think much of it until he opened the door. There was nobody there. Cyrus peeked out the door to look around. “Probably some pranksters,” He decided before closing the door.

Before he could make it to the couch, the doorbell rang again. Cyrus hurried back quicker this time, but as he opened the door, there was still no one in sight. Cyrus inspected the doorbell button. It wasn’t stuck. This time, Cyrus closed the door and waited with his hand on the handle.

‘Ding-Dong,’ and his arm swung the door open. The chime of the last note of the bell still reverberated, yet there was no one and nothing on the porch. Cyrus took a few steps out and called to the wind, “You better stop playing! If I’m offering treats then you’re not supposed to trick this house, that’s the rules!”

He walked back in and moved to turn the porch light off when there, standing in the hallway between the door and the living room, was a young child. Their head hung low and Cyrus couldn’t make out the face. They stood there, trash bag open and in the little hands of the kid with outstretched arms. Cyrus went so still that he forgot to breathe.

“Trick... Or… Treat.”

Cyrus was forced to take a breath. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Trick… Or Treat.”

The voice was raspy. Gasping. As though the lungs weren’t used in years. It almost sounded like the howling of the wind. Cyrus’ legs shook. “Are you the Wandering child?”

No response.

Cyrus noticed now that the child was wearing boys clothing from a much older period than modern. He could have been from the 1800s, though Cyrus didn’t know for sure. Cyrus took out three pieces of candy and, carefully, inched closer to the boy.

There was no movement from the Wandering child. Not even breathing. He just kept his trash bag out. Waiting.

Cyrus got close enough now to see the boy’s face. His eyes were unfocused and glossed over. His mouth hung slightly agape. His face was ashy and clammy. From his forehead came a thick, long streak of dried blood that coated the right side of his face. Cyrus willed himself not to cry out or gasp. He dropped the candy into the bag.

The three pieces thudded on the floor before him and rolled away, but Cyrus pretended like he didn’t notice. “Th-there you go… H-ha-happy Halloween.” Cyrus stuttered.

The boy’s eyes lit up for a second and focused on Cyrus. It sent a chill up his spine. Then the boy smiled, and he disappeared.

Many people doubted Cyrus’ claims. After all, no one else had seen the Wandering Spirit’s face. But Cyrus kept the three candies in a little jar as a reminder that what he saw was real. Despite the terror he felt, he took a little bit of comfort in knowing that, in the end, the child smiled. Perhaps it would be a Halloween that neither of them would ever forget.