Page 48 of Things Get Dark

Fright Night

By Crystal North

Fright Night

The moon hangs low,and the wind howls through the desolate streets of Hallows Creek, bringing with it a sense of foreboding upon the small town. Shadows dance in the pale moonlight, and the air grows heavy with an otherworldly chill that sends shivers down my spine.

For as long as anyone can remember, Fright Night has been a time of strange happenings and unnatural occurrences in Hallows Creek. Everyone knows it’s a night when the veil between the living and the dead seems to grow thin, when the past and the present merge into a nightmarish tapestry of the unknown, but the town of Hallows Creek has always offered something…more this night.

Children whisper tales of ghouls and spectres that roam the darkened streets, and the elderly warn of curses and hexes unleashed during the witching hour. Superstition and fear hold the town in its icy grip, and many dare not venture out once the sun dips below the horizon.

But for me, a curious young woman with a fascination for the macabre, Fright Night is not a time to cower in fear. It isan opportunity to unlock the secrets hidden within the town, to unravel the mysteries that have plagued me for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was a young girl, I would lie in bed, heart thundering as I listened to the screams and cries that filled the air all night long. They didn’t sound particularly terrifying…more enthralling. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to explore the town’s one-night-only mysteries, but we moved away long before I ever got the chance.

Now I’m back, and no one knows me. I love that I’m now a stranger in this tight-knit community.

With my lantern in hand and determination in my heart, I set out to confront the enigmas that shroud Fright Night in a dark, eerie embrace. Streetlamps flicker overhead, creating looming shadows of the houses. Branches from trees which line the walkways seem to twist and reach towards me. The stillness is eerie, and although my footsteps echo in the silence, I keep them slow as I venture into the heart of the town. Could it be something or someone is watching me from the shadows? The night is alive with the unknown, and Hallows Creek’s secrets are poised to reveal themselves on this most unsettling of evenings.

The cobblestone streets of town are preternaturally quiet as I continue my journey. To myself as a child, the stories of deserted streets after dark were just that – stories. Ones told by parents who didn’t wish to take their kids trick-or-treating, perhaps. But even as I hit my early teens, there were never any Halloween parties, just quiet celebrations at home and early nights for all.

I always wondered why. Did it have anything to do with the screams we heard after dark when we were supposed to be tucked up in our beds? And if the streets were dark and deserted, where were the screams coming from?

An owl hoots, cut short, cracking the silence only for a second as if even nature is afraid. It’s probably nesting in the woods. I shudder. The woods

We left Hallows Creek just after the Fright Night when I was twelve, soon to be thirteen, and too curious for my own good. When I was sent to bed, I lay under the covers as normal, heart pounding as always, waiting for the sounds of the night’s satanic revelry to begin. Only this time, I wasn’t tucked up in my nightclothes, but fully dressed and intent on sneaking out. I was tired of waiting. Eighteen seemed so far away, too long to wait to get answers to my many burning questions. Every year, in the weeks leading up to Fright Night, it was all anyone at school could talk about. For the weeks following, the school hallways were rife with gossip, speculation, and ridiculously over the top brags.

Eventually, once my parents headed to bed and the house quieted and the screams began, I crept out of bed and tiptoed to the window, carefully sliding it open so it wouldn’t creak. The cool night air hit my face, and I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. I grabbed a jacket and slipped out, climbed down the trellis, and landed softly on the grass below.

The nearby woods were dark and foreboding, but I pushed forward, hell bent on finding out what all the fuss and secrecy was about. The sounds of laughter and music came from the distance, and my curiosity only grew stronger with each step.

As I got closer, the flicker of firelight illuminated the trees and the figures dancing around it. I hid behind a trunk, watching as upperclassmen from school let loose, drinking and dancing without a care in the world.

But then, I saw something I wasn’t expecting.

A group of hooded figures emerged from the darkness, carrying a large wooden box. It was shaped like a roughly-engineered coffin, but my brain didn’t process that until much, much later. They set it down in the centre of the clearing, and as they opened it, my heart raced.

Inside the box was a girl. Dressed in a white nightgown, bound and gagged.

My curiosity turned into fear.

But I couldn’t move. I was frozen in shock and disbelief. The upperclassmen gathered around the box, cheering and jeering and chanting in some low foreign language. Suddenly, the girl let out a blood-curdling scream that pierced through the night, despite her gag.

I wanted to run, to hide, to do anything to get away from this horrifying sight. But I couldn’t move, my feet were rooted to the ground. As the chanting grew louder, the hooded figures circled the box, their dance-like movements becoming more and more erratic.

One of the figures turned and locked eyes with me. Terror flooded my body, but I couldn’t look away. The figure stalked towards me, and I knew I had to run. It was the menacing glint in the figure’s eyes that did it; that finally allowed my feet to come unstuck and for my legs to carry me away as fast as I could pump them.

I didn’t stop running until I was safely tucked up in my bed, with the window locked and my muddy shoes hidden away in the back of my wardrobe.

The next day, I told my mum about what I had seen, but she laughed and said I must have had a nightmare. According to her, she and dad had checked on me, and I was asleep in my bed all night long. We both knew she was lying, butIdidn’t know why.

We moved out of town less than a week later.

I didn’t recognise the girl in the box that night, but in the five days following right up until our departure, I searched for someone who looked like her in the corridors at school. I never saw her again, but there wasn’t any talk of a missing girl either.

Which is why I came back. As soon as I turned eighteen and left for university, the only thing on my mind was returning to Hallows Creek for answers.

Now, each footstep echoes through the deserted town, creating a haunting rhythm that seems to resonate with the ghosts of the past. The occasional flicker of a lantern in a distant window serves as a lonely beacon in the darkness.

I reach the town square, where an ancient gnarled tree looms in the centre. The Tree of Whispers, standing for centuries, bearing witness to the darkest secrets of Hallows Creek. On Fright Night, they say the tree comes to life, its branches rustling with the murmurs of the departed.