The foul beasts gathered before me in an alleyway, eager to share their night’s scores with each other, as we agreed. It was nearly midnight. This annual tradition, young children in costume roaming the foggy early evening in small groups, was usually easy work. If you knew the right neighborhoods, sometimes there would be only one adult providing supervision. Like I said, easy work.
I have grown weary of the present charade, but the past few years have been such a drain otherwise, already so far from routine. It had come to this, then. Pretend to be one of them again and blend in with a new group. This ridiculous costume was itchy, but my time here was almost over. I had found the right part of the Internet, and sent a notice looking for kindred beings, willing to share around in these trying times. Only three monstrosities answered, none the wiser about who exactly was the original poster, but that would do for now. I decided to let them go first.
A seven foot tall shaggy beast stepped forward. The snout was regal enough, but the pointy ears and basic upright-standing dog theme was a pedestrian effort, at best. I tried to look impressed. He removed a burlap sack from his left shoulder by slamming it to the asphalt in the center of our assembled group. A soft whimper escaped the sack, and it shifted once before ceasing to move again. “This year, I wanted to aid the Lycans,” he began. “As a shapeshifter personally, I chose this form to help keep their numbers from dwindling further.” He snarled and licked his lips. “I found a few family groups in the hills. It was a simple task to turn a few parents here and there. They will do the rest for me. And, as for these two.” He kicked the weakly moaning sack. “I found lunch sitting together on a moonlit swing set on my way back here. Such delicious serendipity.”
“That is all you offer us?” The mass of eyeballs to the wolfman’s left rippled in laughter. “The Legion scoffs.” The wolfman retreated and sat down on his back haunches, apparently well chagrined. Have I met a worthy opponent at last? I let the curiosity continue speaking, for now, but I found myself initially more concerned with how sound was being produced than anything else. This was clearly not telepathy.
“We offer the following.” A thin tentacle erupted from one side of the bulbous sphere, took a moment to contemplate itself, and pierced its own side. The tentacle emerged again, wrapped around a glowing golden cube. The cube’s interior sparkled with a swarm of dancing points of light. “There was a bridge over a river in town, and a torrential rainstorm. Our harvest was better than we expected.”
I found myself slavering and tugging on my left ear. Hopefully my brand new piercings weren’t getting infected. I did my best to regain composure, re-focusing on the gold star on top of the wooden stick in my right hand. “How many is that, exactly?” I tried to wipe my mouth nonchalantly with my left sleeve.
“Thirty one souls. A fitting number, matching their silly timekeeping for this day.” The eyes danced at their own joke briefly, and slowly blinked out of sync. “Why is this little one speaking out of turn?” The other two shrugged. “No matter. I am finished with my tale. What do you say, sir?” The tentacle placed the glowing cube next to the burlap sack, and the mass oozed backward.
The pale man in a dark suit stepped forward next. He was the last. The low turnout for this affair had seemed like a potential bust at first, but everything was looking more and more fruitful by the minute. The pale man cleared his throat. “I have dark tidings.” He paused. I slowly grew impatient, shifted my weight from my left to right foot, and started drawing circles in the mud with my left slipper. Either whatever dramatic effect this idiot was expecting had arrived, or finally even he was bored. He continued, “I regret I have nothing to offer tonight.”
The wolfman howled and the disgusting spherical pile boiled. I sensed an opportunity and giggled. “Why are you here, then?”
“For the holiday spirit and camaraderie?” The pale man shrugged again. “It’s tough all over right now, I know, but I am the physical embodiment of Taxes. Do you know what large a shadow my brother has cast lately? I am simply outmastered, I am afraid.”
“Pathetic,” I said. All eyes turned to me.
The wolfman sniffed in my direction. “Who are you again?”
Staring in my direction, the eyes said, “I thought she was the younger sister of one of you. Someone new tagging along this year?”
The pale man shook his head. “I assumed this thing to be a shapeshifter, too. The human child face. Blond pigtails? Purple tutu? All too much, really.”
The wolfman dropped onto all four legs and snarled. “That is not one of us.”
“I’m a ballerina.” I crossed my legs and bowed. “I guess? I don’t know. Mom wanted this costume this year. I’ve never even had a single dancing lesson.”
The eldritch horror rolled in my direction. “Reveal yourself! What are you?”
It was my turn to shrug. “Wow, you are gross.” I pointed in its general direction. The creature lurched to a slowly squishy halt. Eyeballs popped. A silver mist rose, which I eagerly inhaled. I twirled my wand and shouted, “Abra cadabra!”
The wolfman jumped back, tail between his legs. The pale man looked completely horrified, clutching his own throat, and said, “What?”
I grinned. “I’m just a human girl, eleven years old, but I have found a few good books.” Both tried to run, but it was over so fast. Boring.
The sack on the ground squirmed next to the glowing cube, sensing that the situation had shifted. Dang. Tomorrow was a Monday, wasn’t it? I’ll be too full at this point to really get the most out of in-person school for at least a week.
My first “self” writing prompt on Reddit, this is also the first of a series of holiday-themed stories, on the project list to finish. Reposted from the first host of many of these older stories: https://www.reddit.com/r/TheRickAndJenShow/