Portrait of Words: Tricky Treaty

Time again for Portrait of Words. I found this edition to be a real doozy; once again I didn't even start writing until ten minutes before posting because just nothing was clicking with these photos at all. But, something always comes off the keyboard in the end, and every time it's been a surprise to me.

Details about Portrait of Words follow my story. If you haven't done one of these yet, do try it! I know the photos are sometimes daunting at first glance, but then it's a lot of fun once you start. I'm addicted. Thanks Dr. John and Thom!

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As soon as it was dark, Alistair's mother handed him his trick-or-treat bag and straightened his cape. "Don't stay out too late, dear, and don't get your hopes up too much. So many people have left town this year I don't know if you'll get any---"

Alistair was already running out the door.


Most of the houses on their street were dark, but Alistair knocked on them anyhow.

Mrs. Murphy answered her door but didn't have any candy; she thought he'd come to rake the leaves. He looked around at her lawn, which was hidden in the darkness, and everyone knew old Mrs. Murphy couldn't see much anyway. So he said he was finished, and she gave him a fiver.

Well, that would buy him some candy tomorrow. But Mum was right; most of the houses in the village were empty now.

So Alistair decided to try the Baron, who lived in the castle at the top of the hill. He went through the stone arch gate, and climbed all the way up the steep driveway...and the Baron didn't answer the door either.

Knowing the Baron was getting old and a little deaf, Alistair tried the door. It opened! There wasn't any candy in the hall, but there was a big urn filled with umbrellas and walking sticks. Well, that was even better than candy, Alistair thought. A walking stick would look quite excellent with his costume, so he brought it along, back down the hill.

He stopped at the round Gatekeeper's lodge, and knocked on his door, though the lights were off there too. Nobody answered, but a bicycle was leaning against the railing there. Well a bicycle was much better than candy! He hooked his bag on the handlebars and rode off.

As he turned back into the street, he saw there was a light on at the church, and heard people singing inside. A party maybe?

He walked in and sat at the end of the last row, not wanting to bother anyone, but wondering if the party would have candy and cokes. Should he ask? Just then, the lady sitting next to him handed him a basket filled with coins.

Wow. That was a whole lot better than candy!

Alistair got back on his bike and rode away, but was so excited he went the wrong way, through the graveyard.


Going this way would take him back home in just a few blocks... but if he went the other way, there was the whole other side of town to try for trick-or-treating. Alistair parked the bike on a big flat stone and wondered if it was worth going to the rest of the village, when so many houses were empty this year. After all, he had some good stuff already, like this cool walking stick...

He thought about it, and thought some more, and while he thought he tapped the stick on the stone.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Suddenly there was a creaking sound just under his feet. He stood up off the bike, listening.

The sound grew and rasped, like the grinding of heavy stone ... then, barely visible in the moonlight, a great bowl of Halloween candy began to appear from under the slab.

Alistair stared. The bowl kept emerging, filled with Twix and gum and Crunchies and oh my Gaw, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups!, but as it slowly moved away from the stone, a thin, bone-white, long-nailed hand was clutching one side.

Alistair screamed, dropped everything, and ran screaming all the way home.

"Idiot," said an old woman's voice, muffled beneath the stone. "As if I don't I tell you every year, buying all that candy is a waste of our time."

An old man sighed somewhere down there as the bowl slowly withdrew, and the grinding noise began again.

*

"Well dear, how did it go?" Mother asked.

Alistair tore off his costume and stood staring at her, speechless. A few minutes ago he'd had a new bike, a cool walking stick, and more money than he usually got at Christmas.

Now, nothing.

"And where's your bag, Alistair?"

Just an hour ago, he'd been putting on his costume, all excited about the coming night... a night that was now over for another year. And he hadn't a single Mars bar to show for it.

"Mum---" He kept thinking about that creepy skeleton hand...

"Honey?"

"IT WAS THE BESTEST EVER HALLOWEEN, EVER!"

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From the Portrait of Words website::

"Welcome to our bi-monthly writing challenge known as a "Portrait of Words".

In a nut shell here's how it works. Every other week we will give you a set of categories along with photographs to use as inspiration for your story. Look at each of the pictures and interpret them, then create a story based on what you see and feel. It's really that simple."

And it's fun! Stop in there today to read more stories inspired by these photos, and if you'd like to play along, visit tomorrow to find photos for the next challenge.