Halloween Stories

“What do we have here?” I heard a voice ask. 

It didn’t really sound like a typical voice though, because it had sort of hollow tone to it and appeared to be coming from somewhere in the distance. 

“It’s the body of an unidentified male that was found in an alley downtown,” another voice replied.  “It appears as if he was mugged after coming out of a Halloween party at one of the bars and he presumably died during the commission of that crime.  He was pronounced dead at the scene and we were told to bring the body to the morgue.” 

“Ok, just wheel your gurney over here and place him on my table,” the first voice instructed.  “I’ll begin the autopsy shortly.” 

I felt myself being moved and I was placed on a cold, stainless steel table. 

‘Hey, hold on a minute!’ I tried to scream.  ‘I’m not dead and I’m not just a body.  There’s no need for an autopsy, because I’m alive.  What kind of medical professional declares me dead when I’m obviously still breathing?’ 

I knew that’s what I was thinking, but I didn’t hear any sounds coming out of my mouth and no one reacted as if they’d heard anything.  What the fuck is going on here?  Wait!  Just let me think this through. 

I’ve just got to mentally back up and figure out what's happening.  I’ll start the evening over in my mind and return to when I was putting on the Dracula costume in my dorm room.  I was getting ready to head downtown to attend the big Halloween bash at the local gay bar.  Their advertisement for tonight indicated they were going to wave the cover charge and give a free drink to anyone who showed up in costume, so I was definitely going to cash in on this promotion. 

When I got there, the place was fairly crowded already, and damn, there were some pretty elaborate get ups in the crowd.  I’d thought I had a pretty decent costume when I’d put it on, but now I was suddenly beginning to feel that I was underdressed.  Some of these people really went all out this year, but then again I guess some gays will use any excuse to be able to dress up, parade around and show off for their friends. 

I remember having a few drinks and dancing with a couple of other guys, but they were just out for a good time and hoping to score a quickie, with no strings attached.  I wasn’t up for that scene or playing the part of someone’s ‘slut de jour,’ so I moved on.  After a while I grew tired of the place and decided to return to campus.  I had just exited through the front door and was walking down the street when I was unexpectedly grabbed from behind and unceremoniously shoved into an alley. 

“Well, look what we’ve got here,” the guy in front of me began, while his partner held me from behind.  “It looks as though we’ve captured a fag in drag.” 

I guess he thought this because of the cape I was wearing.

“I’m not dressed up as a woman,” I corrected him.  “I’m a vampire in evening attire.” 

“You look like a fucking lesbo drag king to me,” he spat back. 

“Very funny.  Ok, you’ve had your fun for the evening, now let me go,” I suggested.  “No harm, no foul.  Especially on a night like tonight.” 

“Oh, but we’re not done with you yet,” the creep snapped back.  “My buddy and I hate fags and we’re tired of seeing them parading around town like they own the fucking place.  In fact, we don’t believe homos even deserve to live, so we’ve decided that tonight would be a good time to go fag hunting.  As far as we’re concerned, queers are in season and you’re the first faggot we’ve bagged tonight.” 

“Ha Ha Ha, very funny,” I replied, although I was actually scared shitless. 

I might have wanted him to think I was laughing this off and attempting to downplay what was happening, but I could tell these goons weren’t joking.  They were dead serious about this, which made me hope I wasn’t dead when this confrontation ended. 

“If you want money, I’ll give you everything I have,” I offered, while hoping this might be enough of a distraction to derail their plans. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get that too,” the guy snarled back, “because you certainly won’t be needing it.” 

I heard his buddy laugh behind me, as he forced my arms even more tightly together behind my back.  I winced in pain. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.  Did he hurt you?” the guy in front of me asked, in mocked concern.  “I’m afraid you’re going to think that pain is nothing, when compared to what you’re going to feel before we’re through with you.” 

I was totally panicked now.  What the fuck are they planning to do to me?  I was trying desperately to think of a way to get out of this predicament before they’re able to follow through on their threats. 

“Look, just let me go and I won’t say a thing,” I offered.  “You can take my money and anything else you want, but there’s no need to hurt me.  I don’t pose a threat to you and I promise not to say a word about this.” 

“No, you definitely don’t pose a threat to us and you certainly aren’t going to tell anyone, because we’re going to make sure you’ll never talk again,” he sneered. 

At this point, my panic kicked into overdrive.  He wasn’t fooling around and these two guys obviously planned to hurt me – possibly even kill me.  I began to struggle and attempted to break free, but his buddy was decidedly much stronger than I was.  He also had my arms pinned behind me, so I couldn’t use them at all.  I was thinking about smashing my head back into his face, figuring that might cause him to release his grip, at least temporarily, when I suddenly felt something come crashing into my stomach.  It was so forceful that it knocked all of the wind out of my lungs. 

As I crumpled forward, I looked up to see if I could figure out what had just happened.  The guy in front of me was pulling his arm back again and I could see it held a metal pipe.  That must have been what he used to hit me in the gut, but now it looked as if he was getting ready to strike me again. 

Without warning, his partner suddenly released my arms and I dropped to my knees on the pavement in front of him.  My attacker then brought his arm forward again, but this time the pipe crashed into my skull.  There was a sickening dull thud as it made contact and my body tilted dramatically to one side.  He was using my head as a target, the same way he would if he were smashing pumpkins. 

I’m not sure what happened after that, but I think he hit me a few more times and then everything went black.  I don’t remember anything else from that point on, not until I woke up here – or did I wake up?  These guys evidently don’t see it that way. 

Wait!  What are they doing to me now?  Fuck!  They’re cutting my clothes off.  They’re stripping me naked and exposing me to their full inspection – and without even so much as a kiss or a hug.  I guess I might have been better off hooking up with one of the guys at the bar for a one-night stand. 

Shit, this table is freezing and the cold metal pressed against my flesh is making me shiver.  Surely they must be able to see that.  Right?  Why aren’t they picking up on any of these clues?  Can’t they tell I’m not dead?  Oh fuck!  The one guy seems to be picking up a scalpel as he begins speaking into a microphone. 

“This is Coroner Timothy Struble and I’m about to perform an autopsy on an unidentified male that was brought in here a short time ago.  It is now approximately 10:20 on October 31^st, Halloween night. 

“The subject is approximately twenty-one years of age,” he continued, “at least I suspect he must be that old since he was attacked after leaving a bar.  He is approximately five feet, ten inches tall, has a moderate build and weighs approximately 150 pounds.  He also has brown hair, brown-eyes and very little body hair.  From what I can tell, the victim appears to have been a fairly fit young man. 

“Moving on to his injuries,” he kept going, “the subject seems to have been the recipient of at least two blows from some kind of heavy, rounded implement, roughly an inch in diameter, to the occipital region of the left side of his cranium.  These appear to have been the fatal blows, but I won’t know for certain until I examine his brain.  The subject also shows signs of some pre-mortem bruising to the abdomen, possibly caused by blows received from the same or similar instrument.

“I’m about to make my first incision…” he stated, as he brought the scalpel into contact with my chest. 

‘Wait!  Don’t cut me.  I’m not dead!’ I screamed, but nothing came out.  Oh, fuck.  I can feel the blade sinking into my skin.

“What the hell!” the Coroner screamed.  “This person isn’t dead.  He’s bleeding!  Jack, get over here and help me apply pressure to the area around the incision I just made.  Andy, I want you to call for an ambulance.  We need to get him to a hospital, stat.” 

The Coroner was speaking to his assistants after he, thankfully, realized I wasn’t dead.  Up until that moment, he was actually going to slice me open!  Why the hell couldn’t they tell I was still alive? 

A short time later, but I’m not really certain how long it was, a couple of other people came into the room.  They hurried over and removed my body from the cold metal table and placed it on a gurney.  Then, they covered my naked torso with a sheet.  Now that some of my dignity had been restored, I was wheeled out of there and placed in an ambulance.  One EMT was hovering over me the entire time, while checking my vital signs and trying to figure out why he hadn’t detected anything earlier. 

“This is fucking screwy,” I heard him say to the driver.  “I know I checked this guy’s vitals when we were first called to the scene, but nothing registered.  He had no pulse, no BP and his pupils were fixed and dilated.  Now, I can detect his heartbeat, blood pressure and his pupils are responding normally again.  Why the hell didn’t I get anything from him before?” 

The driver had no answer – at least nothing concrete.  He merely stated he’d never seen anything like that before, but he knew that sometimes shit like this happened.  He also told the EMT working on me that it wasn’t his fault, because he watched him take my vitals earlier.  He kept reassuring him that he’d done everything he was supposed to do and that he had done nothing wrong, but for some reason my vital signs hadn’t registered and merely managed to slip through the cracks. 

Slipped through the cracks?  Is that the best he can come up with?  The friggin’ Coroner was ready to dissect me and remove my organs, yet he tells this guy next to me that he did everything he could and I just slipped through the cracks.  When I get better, I’m going to look them both up and help them slip through the cracks, so they can see how they like it. 

Actually, I’d better stop thinking about what’s already happened and can’t be changed.  Instead, I’ve got to find a way to communicate with someone, so I can explain what took place and give him a description of my attacker.  I’ll never forget the face of the guy who beat me with the pipe, but I never got a look at his partner.  I can only hope that if I can somehow lead the cops to the guy who did all of the damage and hope that he might be willing to give up his partner in order to get a better deal. 

After the ambulance pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance, I was wheeled inside.  A doctor and a bunch of nurses rushed over to meet us and began checking me over.  I heard the EMT as he began to explain everything that had happened, from the time they were first called to the scene and he was unable to get my vitals, up to and including them taking me to the morgue.  He then went on to explain that a short time after they left me there, they were called back when the Coroner determined I wasn’t dead yet.  I heard one of the nurses gasp after he said this, while the doctor began to suture up the incision the Coroner had started to make on my chest. 

For some reason, I was aware of everything that was going on, but I was unable to speak or get anyone’s attention.  I kept hearing them discussing a bunch of different things, such as that I’m in a coma or they suspected I might have sustained brain damage during the attack, but how can that be?  I feel fine and am fully aware of everything that is going on.  The only problem is that I can’t respond to them physically. 

Damn!  Will I be like this from now on or will I regain control over my body again?  Will I retain consciousness only to be trapped in this shell of a body, without being able to interact with the rest of the world, or will my condition improve?  I certainly hope something changes so I don’t end up staying like this. 

Eventually, I was placed on a hospital bed.  I had machines monitoring my vital signs, with all kinds of tubes and wires connected to my body.  Some of these tubes were providing me with liquids and drugs, while others supplied me with nutrients.  I had a much larger tube attached to my mouth and it was connected to a machine that was helping me breath.  Plus, a bunch of wires were attached to my chest and head, which monitored my heart rate and brain activity.  I was beginning to feel more like a robotic life form than a living being. 

For days on end, I tried to find a way to be able to indicate to them that I was aware of everything that was going on around me, but it was all to no avail.  Something was preventing me from speaking and I had absolutely no control over my body.  Hell, I’m not even sure if I’m capable of opening and closing my eyes or if they just remained open all of the time, but whatever the case, I can see people scurrying in and out of the room. 

I’m glad to see that they must have been able to figure out who I am, because my parents showed up and have been staying at my bedside.  I could see the tears in my mother’s eyes, as she tried to straighten my hair with her fingers and kissed me gently on the forehead.  I could also read the horror and outrage on my father’s face when he saw the condition I was in and wondered how one human being could do this to another.  Maybe that was the point.  It’s possible the guy who did this isn’t really human – at least not as we understand the word. 

I was aware that they stayed there with me most of the day.  They would occasionally leave to use the toilet or go to grab a quick bite to eat, but they spent most of their time by my side.  Once visiting hours were over, they left to go back to wherever they were staying so they could get some sleep, but then they returned the next day.  

I also suspected my dad must have taken some time off from work so he’d be able to be here and I appreciated that he would go to so much trouble for me.  However, this doesn’t mean that I didn’t have problems with them being here.  I was deeply concerned about this fact, because every day they stayed here with me it seemed as if I was watching them age a year in the process.  Damn.  Why can’t I speak to them?  I don’t want my parents to worry about me and possibly get ill because they’re spending all their time here.  I don’t want to watch them grow old prematurely, just because they’re worried that I’m not going to recover.   

‘Mom, Dad, I’m all right.  Please, don’t be so sad.  I know everything’s going to be fine,’ I kept trying to reassure them.  I even attempted to use telepathy to communicate with them, but I obviously wasn’t getting through. 

Time was passing by very slowly and the days seemed to drag on forever.  Although I had no idea about the actual passage of time while I was in this condition, I got an indication about how much time had elapsed when my mother wished me a Happy Thanksgiving.  Holy shit!  Has it been almost a month since this happened?  I thought time was dragging, so I had no idea that I’d been like this for so long.  Come on.  I need to speak to my parents, so I can let them know I’m ok and they don’t have to worry.  Please, God.  Let me at least be able to tell them that much. 

I had also noticed that my father would be gone for a while and then suddenly show up again, so I imagine he’d had to return to his job and just came back here on the weekend.  My mother stayed with me though and was there most of the time, so Dad must have been bringing things back for her so she could continue to stay with me. 

As the days continued to pass, I noticed that someone had strung Christmas lights up around the window in my room and they’d also placed a small stand against the far wall and decorated a tiny Christmas tree on it.  Damn, is it almost Christmas now too? 

I knew I couldn’t let my Mom and Dad go through this holiday not knowing if I’d ever get better or recover from my injuries.  I knew I just had to will myself to find a way to get well, because I didn’t want my parents to continue wondering if they’d lost their only child. 

I spent much of my time attempting to utter a sound, any sound, or force my muscles to contract in a way that would make even the slightest movement in one of my limbs, but nothing worked.  I was convinced that I had to discover a way to offer my parents some encouragement, even if it was to just say one word to them, knowing it would make them feel better. 

That evening, I inadvertently discovered a partial answer about my current predicament.  It isn’t that I lack the ability to do these things, but something else seems to have taken control of my body and that’s what is keeping me like this.  I only became aware of this situation when another force tried to rectify the problem for me. 

Ok, I suspect you’re probably confused about what I’ve said, so please allow me the opportunity to clarify this situation for you.  It all started to become clear to me later that night, after everyone had left and I was alone in my room, with the lights turned off.  I had been lying in bed for a while, thinking about my current situation, when I began to notice a shadowy form moving about.  I had no idea what it was, or even if it was something other than my mind playing a trick on me, so I tried to figure out if anything was really there. 

After watching it for a while, it began to materialize into something more substantial and a form I could recognize.  It was now the semi-translucent shape of a man in a long white coat – well actually everything about him was totally white, except it was clearly not a solid object.  Anyway, this thing came over beside my bed and I quickly became aware that it was doing something, although I had no idea what.  I wasn’t able to turn my head so I could discern exactly what it was up to, but after a few moments I felt the IV needle dislodge from my arm. 

Without warning, another shadowy figure leapt out of my body and began to wrestle with the first apparition.  For a long time those two entities fought with one another, and although I’m not certain how I knew this, I realized they were fighting for control of my physical body.  The thing that had suddenly extricated itself from my body was obviously trying to prevent me from moving or speaking, so I wondered if this other form was attempting to allow me to regain the control that I now lacked. 

Had that second entity been preventing me from being able to communicate or move this entire time?  Had it masked my vital signs and that’s why the EMT didn’t get any readings?  Was it trying to get the Coroner to slice me up and kill me?  Why?  What had I done to deserve this? 

I had no idea what was going on or why these two shadowy figures had seemed to be battling over me.  What was really going on here and how was I involved?  Is this happening merely because I’m gay or did my body just happened to become available at the right time, after I’d been beaten and knocked unconscious? 

As I returned my attention back to what the two entities were currently doing, I noticed the apparition in the white coat was struggling to keep the other one from regaining control over me again.  That’s when I realized I might now be able to let my parents know I was all right, if I could find a way to do it while this standoff was continuing. 

It’s too bad no one was in the room with me now, but I became determined that I would try to speak to my mother when she returned.  I would call out to her and try to reassure her that I was going to be fine, since she’d been here worrying about me during this entire time.  I also felt that if she heard me say something it would give her hope that everything is going to be fine. 

When she arrived that morning, I immediately tried to utter a sound, but nothing happened.  I didn’t understand why I still couldn’t communicate with her, since I didn’t think that thing had control over my body any longer, but I was still very frustrated that nothing was happening.  I didn’t give up though and kept trying, until finally I heard what I thought was a sound coming from my throat. 

“Mm…” was all that I got out while trying to say ‘Mom.’ 

Immediately, my mother turned toward me and a glimmer of hope began to radiate across her face. 

“Colby, was that you?” she asked.  “Did you say something?” 

‘Yes, I did,’ I wanted to scream, but nothing more came out. 

This must have given my mother the encouragement she was looking for to indicate that I was coming around, because she raced out of the room and went directly to the nurses’ station.  A short time later she returned, dragging one of the nurses along with her. 

“He made a sound,” my mother stated, as they entered.  “I think he’s coming to.”

The nurse quickly walked over to my bed and began checking me over.  That’s when she discovered the IV was no longer connected to my arm. 

“Since I see he’s dislodged his IV and it’s seemed to have helped, rather than setting his recovery back, I’ll speak with the doctor and see if we can change some of his meds,” she told my mother.  “It’s possible the medication has been making him groggy and preventing him from being able to speak.” 

Before long, a doctor entered the room with the nurse.  He stopped and spoke briefly with my mother first, but then gave me another cursory examination.  After that, he checked my chart and wrote down some new directions for my care.  The doctor and nurse left shortly after that, but within minutes the nurse came back and was busy changing my IV and hooking me up to it.  I hope she’s correct and this allows me to start regaining some control over my body. 

Over the next hour, I kept trying to say something more to my mother, but I wasn’t having any success.  I didn’t give up though and kept trying until it happened again. 

“Mah…” I managed this time. 

My mother squeezed my hand and smiled. 

“I’m here, son,” she assured me.  “You’re going to be fine.  I just know it.  You’re going to come out of this and give your father and me the Christmas miracle we’ve been praying for.” 

I had no idea how close we were to the actually holiday, but I think that expression would have been appropriate for nearly anything that happened during the month of December.  I don’t really care what day it is though.  All I want to do is to start living my life again and be able to assure my parents that I’m back. 

After several more tries, I got the entire word ‘Mom’ to come out.  She and the nurse both looked thrilled and I felt as if I’d just made a major accomplishment.  Can you believe that?  A college senior impressed by the fact that he’d just said the word ‘Mom.”

By the following day, I was able to get out an entire sentence, although it was choppy and my speech was halting.  Even though I was able to speak now, I chose not to tell anyone about what I’d seen with the shadowy figures and all.  First of all, they probably wouldn’t have believed me and would think I’d just been hallucinating, but then again even I wasn’t certain if it had been more than just an illusion. 

Now that I was getting back to normal, my mother informed me that Christmas Day is the day after tomorrow and hearing me speak and knowing I’m going to recover is the best Christmas present she could have ever received.  I had trouble believing it had been nearly two months since I’d been attacked, but I’m happy my parents aren’t going to have to spend this Christmas wondering if I’m going to live or die.  Now, they know that everything is going to be just fine. 

When my father returned, he was thrilled to see I was alert and able to speak again, no matter how primitive it sounded.  He felt it was a good sign and indicates that I’m going to recover completely. 

It was an unusual Christmas to say the least, but I don’t think any of us have ever enjoyed the day more.  Nor have we ever appreciated a gift as much as the present we’d received this year – my life had been given back to me.  It was a truly joyous day. 

The following afternoon, a detective showed up, so he could ask me a few questions.  It was apparent that someone from the hospital had called the station and told them I had regained consciousness and started speaking again.  The detective started out by saying he understood it had been a long time since the incident had occurred, and I quickly interrupted him.  I felt I had to correct what he’d just said and insisted that he stop referring to it as ‘the incident’ and call it what it truly was, ‘the day I’d been beaten to within an inch of my life.’  He agreed that phrase might be more appropriate and then went on to ask if I could remember anything about that day. 

I began by telling him that I could remember every detail from that night, up until I blacked out, and then I went on to describe exactly what happened after I left the bar.  I gave him a detailed description of the guy who had beaten me, and then he asked if I thought I might be able to pick out a mug shot of him, if I was shown some pictures.  I assured him I most definitely could and emphasized my point by telling him that I’ll never be able to erase that face from my memory.  I was only sorry that I hadn’t seen the other man. 

The following day he returned with a book filled with photos.  I had only gone through about twenty pages when I spotted the face of my attacker.  After I pointed him out, the detective began to nod his head slightly.  I think his reaction meant he’d obviously had a run-in with this guy before.  

When the cops picked the man up later, another guy was with him, so they brought him along to see if he might also know something about what had happened on Halloween.  After grilling both men for several hours, the second man finally admitted that he had helped his friend attack me.  He also insisted that he had been led to believe that they were only going to rob me, not beat the living hell out of me, so he eventually agreed to turn State’s evidence.  He was willing to testify against the actual attacker for a reduced sentence and the promise of being placed in protective custody while he was in prison. 

It took me a long time to recover from what had happened as a result of the attack, so it was another year and a half before I was able to return to college and start my senior year over.  I was a few weeks into my first semester back, when one night I decided that I needed to go to the library to study.  I selected a table to sit at and hurriedly moved the books and other things that people had left there.  Once there was enough space for me to spread out my things, I cracked open the books and got busy. 

I had been working for quite a while when I heard what sounded to be a book hitting the table.  Startled, I looked up to see what was going on.  I was surprised that there was no one around, since I figured someone must have dropped something on the table, but I did notice that one of the books on the table was now open.  I know this had not been the case when I’d cleared enough space to work, because all the books had been closed then, so I decided to take a quick peek at it to see what the book was about. 

As I moved closer, I spotted a picture on one of the pages.  The face staring back at me seemed familiar, although the man appeared to be very gruff, but I studied it for a moment, to see if I could figure out why I thought I recognized him.  That’s when I suddenly realized I was staring into the face of the apparition that had been in control of my body after I’d been beaten. 

I suddenly forgot all about what I’d been working on and began reading about this person.  It turns out he was one of those fire and brimstone preachers from the middle of the twentieth century who had been hell bent on condemning gays and vilifying the lifestyle. 

After I understood the man’s background, I realized that he had probably been trying to destroy me because I was gay.  What I didn’t know was if he had any sort of prior connection to the two guys who’d attacked me in the first place.  Were they possibly his relatives and this attack had been a set up from the start?  Had his spirit in some way controlled or influenced their actions?  Was I the actual target or only a convenient subject he used in his attempt to snuff out homosexuals?  Was this guy’s hatred of gays so strong that his spirit had hung around after his death so he could try to eliminate all gays, one at a time?  Wow!  Could a person’s hatred be so strong that it could live on after his death? 

I tried not to think about this again, because it was very troubling, but that changed shortly after I returned home for the summer.  I’d only been back for a little over a week when my grandmother suddenly took ill, so I went with my parents to be with her at the hospital.  That night, after visiting hours had ended, we all ended up going back to my grandparents’ house with my grandfather, because we were going to spend the night there.  We had been chatting with him for a while when I realized I needed to use the toilet.  I had just gotten up to make my way to the bathroom when I spotted a picture on the wall. 

“Grandpa, who is this man?” I asked, while pointing at the picture. 

“That’s your grandmother’s father,” he answered.  “He was the only physician in this town for quite a while, but that was many years ago.  He was a pretty important man back then.” 

I’m sure he was, because that’s the form in the white coat that I saw in the hospital room that night – the one that fought the other spirit that was trying to control my body and might have even been trying to hasten my death.  I’m not sure if he’d ever had any contact with that preacher while they were both alive, but I’ll never forget the contact he had with him after death.  That’s because I now realize that my own great-grandfather had been the one who saved me.

 Since this event is now behind me and I’ve been able to gain a little knowledge about the forces behind what had taken place, I know I’ll never look at Halloween the same way again.  I’m still not convinced if this happened like it did merely because it was Halloween, but I now have a totally different perspective concerning supernatural occurrences. I no longer laugh at people who talk about the spirit world or believe in ghosts, but there’s also one other major change that’s occurred.  After the events of that day, I’m extremely leery about going anyplace alone, because who knows what evil may be lurking around the next corner.

 

THE END