Trick-or-Treating False Key

Chapter 2

Admiration battled unease as we followed the wraparound porch to the back of the house. Maybe this would turn out okay. We'd get some candy and have an excellent story to tell.

"Okay. And then we go to the party." I'd attempted a devil-may-care attitude, but her words nagged at me as we picked our way around the house. "What do you mean, trapped?"

"Crimes against her kind. Using her powers for evil."

The property appeared small from the front, but in fact, stretched way back into the distance. Between us and the far end, a vast expanse of underbrush flowed around dozens more weathered, pearlescent sculptures glinting dully in the moon wash. Beyond these, a long, low shed crouched under live oak trees. Light streamed from an open door.

"So she is a witch!"

"She's an artist. You know, misunderstood." She stepped off the back porch and waded through ferns, avoiding the crowns-of-thorn on her way to the shed. As we neared, I heard silvery singing over a rhythmic tap-tap like metal on stone--tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap. A cat pushed past me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I'd never hated cats before, but I kicked out at it. It hissed.

Bella whirled around, her pretty face pale against her pink lipstick. "Tyler, no! Don't touch the cats!"

From afar her came an elderly voice. "Bella, is that you?" A lady stood outside the shed--white-haired and squinting behind owlish glasses. She held a mallet and a sharp tool, reminding me of blunt force and stabbing. Clearly, I play too much GTA.

"What are you doing here so late?" she called out. "Who's your friend?"

"Hi, Granny. It's Halloween. Did you forget?"

I whispered, "She's your grandmother?"

The woman smiled. "Everyone calls me that. Pleased to meet you, Tyler. Come on in."

Granny retreated into the shed and I followed her and a couple of the creepy cats inside. Granny gestured at open bags of candy on a stool near the door. "Take plenty, I don't get many trick-or-treaters."

Bella said, "Well, maybe you would, if you'd answer the door." I helped myself to gummy spiders.

"Too much work to do." Granny set to work again, resuming that rhythmic tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap. Her tools moved in millimeter increments between each pair of taps, chipping along a charcoal line drawn on the vaguely human-shaped hunk of stone which rested on the ground before her.

I plopped into a lawn chair near the door to watch, working my way through the bag of candy. The gummies were the best I'd ever had--soft and fruity. I couldn't stop eating them.

Bella peered into the eyes of a seated sculpture. "Is that the pizza guy?" she asked.

Granny nodded. "Jeffrey. The cats got overambitious. He'll need a fair amount of work."

"So, Clara is finished?"

"Completely roughed out. Should be ready for Christmas."

I felt a drowsy and content, watching Bella and the old lady moving around the shop, discussing the artwork in varying stages of readiness, and which tools would be used next.

Granny returned to her chiseling, and the tapping sound filled the shop like a gentle rain. My eyes felt heavy, each blink longer than the previous one.

When I opened my eyes, Bella stood at the sculpture called Clara, running her hands over it. Its arms extended over head as if reaching. The entire figure leaned forward, as if taking a step toward me. Bella murmured something--another language? I saw tears welling in the statue's haunted eyes and running in pearly streams down her face. The statue met my gaze, and I swear she was begging forgiveness. I blinked, Clara blinked, and the eyes went blank again.