Something Wicked
By Emily Turner
Emily Turner is an undergraduate student at Ball State University, majoring in English studies and minoring in creative as well as professional writing. From a young age, Emily has used reading and writing to express herself, and through her writing, she hopes to deliver her personal truth to her readers.
Cool, crisp autumn air rolled over an unsuspecting neighborhood filled with unsuspecting children and parents and unsuspecting cats and dogs. The moon, full and round, shone over the identical two-story houses; streetlights illuminated the sidewalks. On the sidewalks were children parading around as princesses, ninjas, pirates, witches and werewolves of the sort, giggling and toting giant pillowcases behind them with small grubby hands. Exhausted parents slugged behind them; the grind of the workday wore them to their cores. The air shuffled about—the sickening smell of sugar lingered about the bursts and howls of wind. Darkness shrouded the neighborhood, creating shadows, places to lurk and loom.
Something felt off about this Halloween. Maybe it was the lack of trick-or-treaters or the abnormal presence of black cats slinking about. Maybe it was how the jack-o-lanterns wore ugly grins. Maybe it was the way the wind sputtered instead of swayed or how the streetlamps flickered one too many times. The stars blinked too fast. The moon hung too low.
*
Sammy swung a tattered cap over his broad shoulders after shoving a pair of plastic fangs into his mouth full of crooked, off-white teeth. Through the mirror he thought he looked silly, too old. He could be working or studying or even going to his neighbor, Sally’s, Halloween party where he would be welcomed with booze, blunts, and the slight chance at a budding romance with the hostess. He sighed. Tonight, Sammy would be trick-or-treating.
Shuffling out of the bathroom, he headed to the living room where his mother sat reading as she waited for him.
“Oh, darling you look great,” she beamed, her wrinkles stretching across her face. She set down her copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes.
Sammy grunted in response.
“Samuel. You’re doing this for charity, to give to the sick children. You’re going to frighten away the candy with your foul attitude.”
“If I recall, Mother, you signed me up for this.”
“It’s for a good cause, Sammy. Plus, you can put volunteering on your résumé,” she replied.
“Okay, Mom. I’m leaving.” He headed to the front door.
“Don’t forget this, my little vampire.” She handed him a large pail shaped like a jack-o-lantern before sending him off with a ruffling of his shaggy, dark brown hair.
*
A chill worked its way down Sammy’s spine as he sludged through the neighborhood, grumbling along the way. He glanced at his pail. In it lay a small handful of candy, a half-eaten apple, and some pencils. Many doors had been slammed in his face by judgmental adults who told him that he was too old to be trick-or-treating. He yelled through the last shut door how it was for charity, for the sick children, as his mother had told him. The neighbors closed their blinds in response.
On his way to the next house, Sammy tripped over his lanky legs and went tumbling forward towards the cold, unforgiving cement. As if to protect what little candy he had secured, Sammy tucked the pail into his chest and held his other hand out to brace himself. With a thud and a screech, he crashed into the sidewalk.
“Dammit,” he muttered, picking himself up and surveying the damage. The candy seemed unscathed, but he lost some skin to the cement. His fingertips and palms were covered in light scratches, but his thumb took most of the injury. A crimson burn stretched from the side of his thumb all the way to his wrist, stinging like pins and needles.
Spewing a string of curses under his breath, Sammy headed to the next house down to ask for a bandage. His injured hand prevented him from noticing the wind coming to a halt. Or the ominous way that the moon stared down at him. He didn’t notice the sudden lack of tiny, trick-or-treating tots. He only noticed the burn from his scraped-up hand that permeated his very soul.
As if God had flipped off some all-encompassing switch, the neighborhood was plunged into absolute darkness. The warm, faint glow emitting from each house disappeared as did the streetlamps and the very stars in the sky. The moon ceased to exist. Sammy yelped as all the light in the world was sucked into a void. Silence followed the darkness, and it was as if he, too, was pulled into oblivion. Even his thoughts were numbed, and an overwhelming sense of dread swallowed him. He knew only fear in this new world.
*
And as soon as it had disappeared, the neighborhood blinked back into existence. Sammy glanced around. Nothing had changed.
“What the—,” he began to question.
“Sammy! Sammy!” An alarmed voice pierced the silence. He whipped around to find Sally tearing towards him in a skimpy witch costume. Fear burned in her cornflower blue eyes, and as she approached him, her black heel broke, causing her to tumble into Sammy’s arms. The force of her fall sent them both to the sidewalk, one on top of the other. Scarlet flushed over Sammy’s cheeks as Sally quickly pushed herself off his chest. After brushing herself off, Sally huffed and chucked her ruined heels to the side. She offered Sammy her hand and helped hoist him up.
“Are you okay?” they asked in tandem, causing the other to laugh despite the strange circumstances.
“Did you see what happened?” she asked after their laughs and giggles subsided.
“What was there to see? Everything went dark. Why aren’t you at your party? Is everything okay?” he probed, curious about her random appearance. The streets remained eerily empty.
“Well yeah…the party was pretty lame, so I snuck out to cop some candy.” Her eyes lingered at his jack-o-lantern pail. “And it looks like you did too.”
“It’s for charity,” he replied with a tinge of defiance in his voice.
“Er, okay. But like you said, everything went dark, and I never felt so lost and cold in my entire life.” And he could tell. Sally’s eyes always had a luster that shined and glimmered even on the stormiest days. Now they seemed dull and gray.
She continued, “I went back to my house and all the doors were locked. I thought I was being tricked, so I went to my neighbor’s house, but no one was there. I’ve been knocking on doors until I saw you. You’re the first person I’ve seen since it went dark, Sammy.” Sally held his injured hand now, gripping it as if it was the last hand she would ever hold.
Her grip on Sammy’s hand made him wince. She looked down and dropped his hand as if it scalded her.
“What happened to your hand?”
“Um, I tripped right before it went dark,” he explained with his head down in embarrassment.
Sally clicked her tongue and grabbed her own cloak. With some struggle, she tore off a large strip of fabric and began crudely wrapping Sammy’s hand.
“That should help for now.”
“Thanks, Sally.” A gust of wind danced between the two. “Let’s see if we can find help,” he offered.
“This is the freakiest Halloween ever.”
*
Sammy and Sally pounded on every door in their neighborhood to see if anyone was home. But as Sally experienced, all the doors were locked. They stopped underneath a faint, flickering street lamp after the last house. The world felt still and detached.
“This can’t be real. Everyone disappeared,” Sammy observed.
“Yeah, this is definitely some spooky shit. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“You’re not surprised?” His mouth hung slightly open in shock.
“Well, yes and no. It’s freaky that it’s happening to us, but it’s just like the movies. Scary shit happens on Halloween.” She paused. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Ghosts aren’t real.” Sammy shook his head in disbelief. Disbelief in ghosts or the supernatural, disbelief that his whole neighborhood disappeared after it was encased in darkness, disbelief that Sally was in this hell-hole with him while dressed in a cute, yet revealing costume…Disbelief was an understatement.
Despite the unexplained happenings, Sammy felt at ease with Sally. He found himself laughing at her weird humor, smiling at her spookily cute charms, wanting to cup her cheeks and kiss—
“Hey, isn’t there a police station behind the McCormick’s house?” Sally snapped Sammy out of his foolish daydream. An emergency was at hand, yet all he could think about was kissing Sally. He needed to stay focused, determined.
“The McCormick’s? Yeah. It’s through the woods, but we probably shouldn’t.”
“Why not? They could help, if they’re there.”
“After everything that’s happened tonight, do you really think it’s smart to go through the woods? People get lost there too often. We need to take the main road.”
“It will take us half an hour or more if we do that. We need to get there now! Why are you being so stubborn?” Annoyance flickered across Sally’s face.
“You’re the one being stubborn,” Sammy spat back, crossing his arms.
“You’re right. So I’m going to go the quicker way with or without you.”
“Fine! I hope you don’t get murdered by some Halloween monster while I take the safer way.” Their words ricocheted off each other, echoing into the night. With a huff and a grumble, they each swiveled and stomped off in opposite directions.
*
Sally looked at the forest, and the forest stared back at her. Though she knew she needed to find the police, the ominous black hole that was the forest intimidated her. On its perimeter were towering, gangly trees. During the day, the leaves were that of a fire consumed with burnt oranges, mustard yellows, and deep burgundies. The autumn air coiled around the branches, plucking leaves and swirling them about, creating a whirlwind of color. At night, however, they were just varying shades of darkness. The tree limbs tangled together into oblivion and beyond the first row of trees, there was nothingness.
Leaving the neighborhood behind, Sally took in a gulp of chilled air and pushed her way through a thicket and a bramble to enter the awaiting, menacing forest. She disappeared into the darkness; the trees swallowed her whole.
Once inside, she wrapped her tattered witch’s cape closer to her body, and a swish of wind pierced through her. The wind howled and hissed, making Sally believe that she wasn’t alone. She was pushed and shoved by the wind until she didn’t know where she had come from or where she should go. While the sturdy trunks remained motionless, the thousands of branches groaned and creaked under the weight of the unyielding wind. After some time of aimless wandering, Sally came upon a clearing, and she collapsed among the pine needles and fall wildflowers. The wind was relentless and racked her body every which way. To brace herself, she reached forward and grasped around the forest floor.
“Ow. What the—?” Sally looked down at her hand only to discover all her fingertips had been sliced. Blood dripped onto the culprit of her injury: a slivered beer bottle.
“This is why you shouldn’t litter!” Sally exclaimed in frustration. Wetness glinted from her eyes. All at once, the wind ceased, and the twisted forest was doused with a strange tint of vermillion red.
*
Sammy had just reached the edge of the neighborhood, muttering the entire way. How could Sally think that he’s being stubborn when all he wanted was for them to be safe? The forest knew no bounds. The forest held secrets. The forest took people in its warped branches. Why should they enter it when this was happening to them? How could she know if it was safe? With all these thoughts somersaulting through his head, Sammy exited the abandoned neighborhood.
Except he couldn’t. Guilt rippled through his body at thought of leaving Sally alone in the forest, which halted him from stepping outside of the neighborhood. The road just beyond him was dead, and Sammy suspected that he wouldn’t be able to locate help even if he tried. He gazed down at his injured hand that pulsed and stung—blood stained Sally’s make-shift gauze.
“Okay.” Sammy declared, determined to fine Sally. But as he turned around, he winced and recoiled at the harsh, scarlet light that now emerged from the forest, causing it to look like the trees were flames. His heart started to thrust against his chest and sweat began to speckle his forehead.
“Sally!” Sammy bellowed, and he flung his pail to the side. He bolted into the antagonizing, carmine light, sensing that something was terribly wrong.
*
Sammy wasn’t sure what direction to go, only knowing that he needed to find Sally hidden within the mahogany forest. After charging around for a while, he came to a searing halt. With his hands on his knees, his breath forced its way out of his throat in hacking, rust-like coughs.
As his panting died down, Sammy whipped his head around and examined his surroundings. The forest was consumed with a deep shade of red, as red as the blood that ran cold through his veins. What little light that filtered from the moon from beyond the tree’s peaks was burgundy itself. The bark, leaves, dirt, pebbles and rocks, sticks, bird nests, grass, flowers, pinecones, every inch of the forest was drenched in red. The wind itself glinted scarlet. Sammy was sure that if he found a brook, it would be a river of rubies, shimmering throughout the forest. The scenery whirled before him in a fiery red glimpse.
“Sally!” he called out, reaching forward to grasp a crimson tree trunk. “This can’t be real,” he continued.
“Sammy! Sammy!” a voice cried behind him. Forgetting the dyed world for just a moment, Sally rushed towards him and cupped his worried face in her bloodied hands. Her eyes flashed a blistering red. “Sammy are you okay?” she asked breathlessly.
“I should be asking you that,” he answered, taking her hands in his own. “What happened?” Even their voices sounded like burgundy.
“That doesn’t matter right now. We need to get out of here.”
“I don’t think we can! I didn’t find anybody outside the neighborhood. The forest turned red, so I came after you.”
“I accidentally cut myself on some dumb beer bottle looking for the police station, and then the forest went red,” Sally explained.
“You were right,” they each admitted together. The sangria hue that engulfed the forest hid each of their blushing faces. Sammy brushed away a piece of Sally’s once blonde, now cherry, colored hair, and she nestled into his warm, welcoming chest. They felt calm in each other’s arms amidst the crimson wood.
“Why did the forest turn red after I hurt myself?” Sally pulled herself from Sammy and examined her strawberry red fingers.
“That happened to me too sorta. The darkness happened after I scraped my hands.”
“And now everything is red like our…”
“Blood,” Sammy finished.
“You don’t think that all this happened because—"
“Hey! That’s my mom’s book!” Sammy interrupted Sally as soon as he caught a glimpse of a book hidden among the merlot forest floor. The wind that was once silenced whipped up around the book causing the pages to flutter like a butterfly caught in a brick red tornado. Soon the wind died down, and the pages settled. One line stood out amongst the reset as it glowed an angelic white, which bleached out the maroon shade that overpowered the rest of the forest.
“What book?” Sally questioned.
“My mom was reading this before I left.” The two faltered towards the book, and Sally snatched it up. The forest fell still in a hazy redness.
“‘By the pricking of thy thumb something wicked this way comes,’” The words flitted from her tongue, and her face hallowed as the realization dawned on her. “Sammy, it’s our blood.”
“What?”
“Our blood. By the pricking of our thumbs. We can reverse this!” Sally dropped to her hands and knees and began to search around the ruby red ground. She held up a jagged rock. “Do you think this is sharp enough?”
“Sharp enough? You can’t just—,” Sammy responded. But he was too late: Sally gnashed the rock against her injured thumb. She winced as a fresh stream of blood slid down from her cut. The trail gleamed down her palm, mixing among her red-tinted skin.
“You need to recut your thumb too.” She handed him the rock. “Please don’t be stubborn.”
“You’re the stubborn one, Sally!” Sammy paused. A small, timid smile worked its way onto his face. “But I trust you.” He untied the gauze from his hand before slicing his already scabbing wound.
In a flash, the world became black again. Silence followed. Nothing and everything existed all at once.
*
Sammy opened his eyes to find that he and Sally were sitting by the edge of the forest. It was no longer dyed in crimson—everything seemed at peace. He gazed back at the neighborhood, and his heart was filled with relief when he saw trick-or-treaters making their rounds with their parents following. A sting of pain reminded Sammy of his hands; he inspected the cuts. They were still there, but the lights in the house, the trick-or-treaters, and the non-red forest told Sammy that somehow everything was okay. He stood up and helped Sally stand.
“We need get your fingers checked out.”
“You need to get some candy for your charity thing.”
“You’re more important.”
“I’m never going out on Halloween again.”
“Same.”
And Sammy led Sally back to his house, away from the slinking black cats, noisy trick-or-treaters, the grimacing jack-o-lanterns, the stars that blinked too fast, and the moon that hung too low. Away from the Halloween mischief that was swallowed by darkness and that burned a fiery red.
Interview With The Author
First, how did you hear about Quirk submissions and what was your reaction to being accepted?
I’m an undergrad student at Ball State University, and my intro to fiction writing professor, Sean Lovelace, forwarded me an email from Quirk, stating that their deadline had been extended and to tell people who might be interested in submitting. I wouldn’t have known if he had not sent it to me, so thanks Professor Lovelace! I was astounded when I got the acceptance email. This is my second publication this semester, but I was certainly not expecting to be published twice within 2-3 months. I was surprised, ecstatic, and honored that Quirk wanted my writing.
What inspired the creation of “Something Wicked”?
I was in middle school when I first read “Something Wicked This Way Comes” by Ray Bradbury, and I loved it to pieces. But for those of you who haven’t read this book, the title is from Shakespeare: “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” “Something Wicked” was the final for my intro to fiction class, but we had to start in October in order to have enough time to write and revise it. So I was inspired by the season surrounding me. Fall is my favorite season, and I’ve always loved Halloween.
How did you start writing?
I remember starting to especially love reading and writing in middle school—I always enjoyed my English classes the most. I remember writing about my older sister as a princess in 6th grade, and in 8th grade I won first place for creative writing in a school-wide contest. Looking back on it, I’m kind of surprised that it took me until my senior year of high school to decide to become an English major, but even then, I solely wanted to become an editor. Now I’m realizing that I want to be a writer and an editor.
Why do you write?
It’s hard to pinpoint, but I think I was drawn to writing because I was always awkward (still am) and bad with words. With writing, I can express myself creatively and premeditate what I want to say and how I want to say it. I also write to share my personal truths and how I view the world around me: I read and write to empathize and understand the human condition. At first, I thought I was a creative nonfiction writer all the way, but I have a horrible memory and it’s hard to think of anything in my life as worth writing about. With fiction I can write about anything, and I can make things up. More and more I think I’m a fiction writer (not that you can’t do both).
If asked to define your work in three words, what would those words be?
This is a hard one…brooding, honest, and whimsical??
Is there anything you would like those who view your piece to know?
I would like to thank Quirk for publishing “Something Wicked” and everyone who reads it! If I could tell people just one thing, it would be to follow your dreams. Life is too short to be at a job you can’t stand versus having your dream job. Anything is possible and know that happiness is the most important.
Editorial Comments
Something Wicked is mainly based on supernatural elements and includes fantastic imagery that our team of editors acknowledged. It is one of the hallmarks that contributed to our decision to accept this work as a part of the publication. The piece captured our interests as well as our minds as it transported us into an atmosphere of fantastical horrors.
