Doorbell

The doorbell screamed at me louder than the "Trick-or-Treaters" did. I sat up in my bed and ran my hands through my hair. I felt like screaming. I felt like explaining to the kids who rang by doorbell that when my lights are off it means I'm not going to give them anything. Instead, I stood from my bed and decided I needed another drink. After I got to my kitchen and poured the drink I looked out the window and saw the scarecrow, zombie and clown standing on my porch still. They smiled. They thought nothing of it that I was trying to sleep. Trying to pretend Halloween didn't exist meaning that the grown-man dressed as the devil never broke into his home as a child and never killed his parents when they opened the door to give him some candy. I quickly shut the curtain I was peeking from and stomped back to my bedroom, turning of thee lights as I went. Halfway down the hallway leading back to my bedroom the doorbell rang again. Not even thinking I spun around and threw my full glass as hard as I could. It hit the wall and shattered, muffling the voice of someone standing in the hallway.
"Trick or treat."
I didn't care what or who said it, I ran at them and tackled them. Once on top of them I punched and punched until I could feel crunching under my fist. I finally pulled away and saw what I was punching. The boys zombie makeup looked much more realistic than it had out on the porch now that he was bleeding, and his eyes were swelled to the point that I don't think he could see. I stood and looked down at the hardly breathing body. Tears fell onto it. How had he even gotten in? It didn't matter, it didn't even matter if he had broken in now that I had done this. I didn't want to look at it. I began walking quickly back into my room. I told myself that didn't happen. It was memories of that one Halloween and beer working together to make this hallucination. I would go to bed, wake up in the morning and-
and then something was behind me. Walking, now running, towards me. I turned again to see the skeleton boy running at me.
"You've become what you fear! You're the man in the devil mask! You killed your parents!" he screamed. How did he know that? It didn't matter, he saw me kill his friend, this was real, he had seen what I did and now it needed to happen to him to. The kid reached me and pounced his skeleton mask partially crooked on his face. I took a nearby lamp, pulled it from the wall and swung like a bat at the skeleton. By unplugging the lamp I eliminated the last source of light in the hallway, making it so that the kid appeared to be nothing but a skeleton. This was no kid. This was a skeleton, just as that killer had been the devil. My swing was powerful enough to send him flying into a wall, but he had a good grip on my collar and I went flying with him. My head hit the wall and the kid was punching me with tiny fists. I took the lamp I still held and swung again. This time something broke. I hoped it was not my lamp, I hoped it was the kid. I hoped it was his skeleton bones snapping. Before I could know what the snap was the clown kid had his scarf pulled tight around my neck. I fell back but the clown kept pulling. I tried to hit him with the lamp but couldn't. As the home became darker, I remembered...

My parents passed out candy every year. They loved the smile on kids faces when the candy was dropped into their awaiting pillowcases. They loved those smiles more than me. And I knew it too. It was obvious. I despised them for it, for ignoring me while they gave to other parents children. Why did they not give me candy? Why did they not love my smile? So finally, my first year out of their home, I bought the devil mask. I knew they would despise it, being devout Christians. I would go to their home, wearing the mask and they would hate me. They wouldn't want a smile or to give me candy. Best of all they would ever know it was me, they'd think they hated some kid more than me.
I went to their door and opened my pillow sack.
"Trick or Treat," I called to my old mom who I hadn't seen in years. She did smile. She held out a handful of candy and told me to hold my pillowcase under it. I obeyed.
"Here you are," she said dropping the handful in. She didn't scowl. She didn't say anything about the devil was not a good costume. She just smiled and gave candy to me. She loved the devil more than me. So, reaching for my Swiss army knife I decided I would give her someone to hate for as long as she lived. Pushing her out of the doorway I removed the knife and...

I looked where three dead, costumed kids sat in my hallway. How'd they get there? Was I truly the devil I feared I had become?
No, I thought, the devil doesn't need a mask. And with that I removed it and prepared to hide the bodies.