When I was a little girl, we didn’t go Trick or Treating and Halloween wasn’t really that big a deal. We made lanterns, not out of a pumpkin, but carved from a mangel-wurzel. I can still remember how much our hands hurt afterwards.
One year, when I was about 10 I think, we went to a Halloween party that our neighbours were throwing. We played lots of fun games, including apple bobbing and trying to grab a bun, tied on a string, without the use of our hands.
Later, we gathered round to tell scary stories and when it got to Midnight (or so it seemed) we all went out for a walk. I don’t think I’d ever been allowed to stay up that late before and it was strange and exciting to be outside in the dark. The local church, where I sang in the choir, was just around the corner and that is where we headed.
With our heads full of spooky tales, we walked up the path to unlatch the gate, but it swung open before us. By now my heart was racing and then I noticed that there was a hand holding the gate. There was a large ring on its finger and a lacy cuff hanging out of the burgundy velvet sleeve.
That was enough for me and I didn’t let my eyes travel any further. I no longer remember who was standing beside me, but we grabbed hold of each other and ran screaming from the churchyard. I can’t tell you how happy I was, to be safely back in the warm bright house.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when I was getting my Mum’s sewing machine out of the bottom of her wardrobe, that I noticed a burgundy velvet sleeve hanging there. I nearly jumped out of my skin! Then I realised that while we had been out in the misty night, I couldn’t remember seeing my Dad anywhere.
He had gone ahead to hide behind the wall and give us a scare. In the end, all he needed to do, was pull back the gate and our over active imaginations had done the rest.
I hope you enjoyed my Halloween memory. For lots more stories, head on over to Sian’s place, where you’ll find a warm welcome.