Trick or Treat

October 31, 2021

The dogs barked at the door.

Dusk was gathering early, now the clocks had changed. Out here, in the middle of fields, I didn’t get trick-or-treaters. The two youngsters living up the drove didn’t bother dressing up for our few terraced houses.

I shouted at the dogs to stop barking and sought treats to offer. There wasn’t even a biscuit in the house.

When I lived in the suburbs, I’d always bought in supplies of sweets for Halloween to reduce the risk of having eggs thrown at the door. It didn’t always work, but I drew the line at encouraging extortion by handing out coins.

I remembered I’d emptied the last of my small change into the Poppy collection box at the newsagent.

The barking didn’t put off our callers who rang the doorbell again. Too late, now, to pretend I wasn’t here.

I shut the dogs in the living room and opened the door on two shadowy figures, reminding me I had yet to replace the porch light bulb. Before my eyes materialised a copy of the Watchtower.

‘Are you concerned about Armageddon?’