A group of authors writing interesting posts weekly and interacting with readers.
A short fiction story by Erika M Szabo
“Grandma is here!” Sara, a cute eight-year-old girl in fairy costume shouted when she heard a car pulling into the driveway.
“Grandma you came!” Sara hugged her grandmother as soon as she stepped through the door.
“I wouldn’t miss trick or treat with you for the whole world.”
Sara pulled back and examined the old lady’s outfit. “Grandma, you always dress as a witch every Halloween. Why don’t you put on a different costume?”
“Because I’m a witch,” her grandma replied with a wink and shot a mischievous smile at her daughter who stood by the stove.
“Sara, go put on your sparkly shoes while I talk to your grandma,” Mandy shooed her little fairy out of the kitchen and turned to her mother. “Mom, there are three this year. The first one is a savage man who lives at 21 Mayberry Street. He’s been beating his wife and children in his drunken rages for years and the poor woman is afraid to leave him because he threatened to kill her and the children if she ever leaves him.”
“Got it,” the old lady nodded with a serious expression on her wrinkled face.
Mandy continued, “The next one is the shifty lawyer at 13 Viola Street. She twists and turns the law and uses dirty tricks to defend her clients. A rich child molester is free because of her. They both deserve punishment. My heart goes out to that little girl. She’s Sarah’s age and…” Mandy shivered. “I can’t even… He must be stopped, mom! He lives at 52 Madison Street in the big mansion.”
“Indeed, they do deserve what's coming to them,” her mother exclaimed and put on a bright smile as she heard Sara running down the stairs. Are you ready, pumpkin?”
“Let’s go, Grandma,” Sarah grabbed the old lady’s hand and pulled her toward the front door. “We don’t want to miss the best candy!”
The next day as the woman opened the front door at 21 Mayberry street, she wondered where her no-good husband could be. She covered her bruised face and winced in pain. He didn’t come home last night. She thought feeling worried. Probably he drank too much and sleeping it off somewhere. I hope he’ll be sober by the time he gets home; he doesn’t get too angry with me when he’s sober.
She picked up the newspaper and as she straightened up, she spotted a large, rotting pumpkin on the bottom step. “How did this get here? It's rotten already,” she mumbled. She picked up the heavy pumpkin and carried it to the compost box in the back.
A tiny, angry voice came from the pumpkin, “Put me down, you stupid woman! It’s me, don’t you see? I’m gonna kill you, I will!”
But the woman didn’t hear the voice and as the pumpkin hit the pile of rotting vegetables in the box, it exploded into hundreds of little pieces.
The cruel man still absent two days later, she filed a missing person’s report. But she and her children didn’t miss him, at all. Deep down she hoped he would never be found.
The lawyer who lived at 13 Viola Street had a court case the next day. She had everything prepared to confuse the jurors, but the first words came out her mouth was, “My client is guilty as hell.”
She stood there feeling horrified as everyone in the courtroom cheered. From that moment on, the woman couldn’t tell a lie. She lost all her clients, and nobody would hire her again. She couldn't hold any job because she kept insulting everyone, so she lived the rest of her life alone, miserable, and bitter.
The pervert at 52 Madison Street had an awful Halloween night. He kept hearing the cries of the children he assaulted, in his mind. The words that the anguished mother of his last victim shouted at him when the "not guilty" verdict was announced, cut into his brain like a sharp knife, over and over. You deserve to rot in hell for what you did! You deserve to rot in hell for what you did!
The cries relentlessly echoed in his mind, day, and night. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and couldn’t find a minute of peace. Days later he drove his Mercedes into a large tree at high speed. Did he finally find peace in death? Who knows? Just like in prison, maybe even the hardest criminals in hell hate child molesters.
A few days later Mandy’s mom stopped for a short visit. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Mom, everything is as it should be,” Mandy said, smiling.
“You know, I’m getting too old, it’s time for you to continue the family’s Hollows Eve Magic tradition," the old lady announced handing her gnarly wand to her daughter. “Next year you go trick or treating, and I’ll stay home to hand out candy.”
Watch out for evil people meeting the fate they deserve, just a few days after next Halloween.
Maybe the vigilante witch lives in your neighborhood. Or, Maybe Miss Karma is righting wrongs. We never know...
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