Deception by Judy Colella (classic novels to read txt) 📕

DECEPTION

Halloween costumes can be really scary in the dark. They’re supposed to be, right? I mean, who goes trick-or-treating under a spotlight? So yeah, that’s expected. But in the light, the costume looks exactly like what it is – a costume. You know, completely not convincing anymore because you can see the stitching, or the plastic shines, or the rubber mask looks really, really fake even if it’s gross.

Some stragglers came to our door at least an hour after all the younger kids had gone home, and I wasn’t happy about it. My parents were out for the evening, and I was trying to watch a movie, hello? Losers. I practically threw the remaining candy at them and slammed the door. They’d looked much too big and probably way too old to be out snagging candy like that anyway.

Then the doorbell rang again. Super angry now, I flipped on the bright front porch light next to the smaller one by the door that mom had fitted with an orange bulb. I wanted to see exactly who this jerk was, ringing our bell at…a quick glance at my watch told me it was ten thirty! This was just wrong! So I switched on the bright light and flung the door open.

Remember what I said about the light? A few seconds was all it took for the horrible truth to register: no seams, no obvious stitching, no plastic or rubber. Just scary, bloody-gross, huge, full of crazy-sharp teeth and talons, and torn, hairy flesh. Nope. Not a costume. Maybe in the dark it could pass for one, but the opposite was staring at me through gigantic, blood-shot amber eyes. For an insane moment, I considered telling the thing sorry, but I was out of candy.

The insane moment passed in what had to be the world’s longest heartbeat, and the words became a silent scream. I shut the door so fast it whooshed, locked it, and headed as swiftly as I could for the back door. Not easy when you’re practically paralyzed with fear, barely able to breathe, all coherent thought having left the building without you.

The doorbell went off again. This time my scream was very, very audible. What was that thing?! I was crying what felt like cold tears, my hands trembling as I tried to unlock the back door. Stupid me. It was already unlocked, and all I’d managed to do is lock it instead. So of course I stood there like an idiot, tugging uselessly on the doorknob instead of unlocking it again. Ah, panic.

My cell phone went off in my pocket and I nearly had a heart attack. Never thought Miley Cyrus would be the cause of my near-death. But then reason popped in for a quick chat and suggested I answer it – you know, ask whoever it was to call the police or something? I think I said “help,” but somehow I doubt it sounded like English.

“What? Jenna, what are you doing? You sound really weird.”

My friend Corbin – yes! “There…help…call 911!” I choked out. Somewhere in my brain it registered that he sounded a little weird, too, but I didn't have time to think about that.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Obviously not, you nitwit, I wanted to say in my best sarcastic voice. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. “No! Help! Mo-mons – call 911! Something is trying to break into my house and I can’t get out!” There. That was better. Sort of.

Corbin was quiet for a second or two. I assumed he was trying to figure out what to say, because honestly, I’m sure I sounded like a lunatic just then and the poor guy probably had no clue how to deal with that. We’d known each other since Middle School (we’re in the 10th grade now), so you’d think he would have realized I wasn’t messing around. Still, it was Halloween, meaning I could easily have been playing a huge joke on him.

“I’m not playing!” A loud sob escaped, and that seemed to do it.

“Okay, I’m coming over.”

“No! You could get hurt or killed!” The doorbell sounded again and I screamed.

“Jenna! Listen! Tell me what’s going on…please!”

So I did, wasting no time in speculation about why he sounded like he was lisping. I described the thing at the door as best I could while squishing myself into the corner made by one of the cabinets and the wall near the door. Once more Corbin got quiet, only this time it didn’t sound like he was trying to find a way to tell me I was nuts.

“You know,” he said slowly, “if that thing really wanted to hurt you, it would have kicked the door in and and you’d be an entrée by now.”

“That isn’t funny!” I squeaked. And then I thought about what he’d said, which somehow made me calm down a tiny bit. “So…so what do you think it wants?”

“You said it looked bloody and torn. Maybe it just wants help.”

“You think so?”

“Possibly. Either way, though, it will only get ticked off if you keep ignoring it, don’t you think?”

I got to my feet, still shaking. “You’d better be right, Corbin. If I get ripped apart or something, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I understand completely.”

“Are you coming over?”

A pause, then he said, “On my way,” and hung up.

Back at the front door, I took several deep breaths, put out a quivering hand, turned the knob, and wincing, pulled the door open.

It was still there, still gory, still obviously not some whacko in a costume. The light made that awfully clear. I gulped and stared into its extremely freaky eyes. “C-can I, uh, can I help you?”

A large tear seeped from the corner of one of those eyes, which might have been kinda heart-wrenching if it hadn’t looked like blood with milk in it. The thing gnashed its teeth and nodded – I surmised it couldn’t talk for some reason – and put out a. . .paw? Hmm. Not exactly, but not really a hand, either. I stepped back and waved it inside.

“You’re hurt?” Hey, for all I knew it looked like this normally.

“Hurrr….Hunnnnngggrrrrr…….”

It could talk after all? Okay, I thought. That should make it easier. But what had it said – or been trying to say? Hurt? Hungry? I really hoped it didn’t survive on candy. And I also really hoped Corbin’s mind had been functioning properly when he’d advised me to help it. The creature was shuffling toward the kitchen, so I went after it, grabbing a crystal flower vase its bulk nearly knocked over as it passed the credenza in the dining room. “I don’t know what you eat – ”

“Hunnngggrrrrreeeeeee!!!”

I followed it into the kitchen where it opened the fridge, making grunting noises, reached in and grabbed the four-layer chocolate cake my mother had made to bring to church tomorrow. It was something she owed them – whatever. Corbin loved chocolate, I remembered absently. Good thing he didn’t know about, er, wait a second. Where the heck was Corbin? And how did this thing know what a fridge was, anyway?

“You can’t take that,” I told it as nicely as I could.

“Must have!”

Wow. That was clear – and sounded an awful lot like my absent friend… “It really isn’t good for you and why do you sound different all of a sudden? What’s going on here?”

The creature put the cake on the counter and ducked its head, looking embarrassed. No kidding. And that’s when it started to change. First it got shorter, then the hairiness went away, and finally the gross bits morphed into –

“Corbin?! Oh…my…God!” I nearly wet myself. Then I realized he was practically naked and nearly barfed.

“I, um, I didn’t, uh, my family is, well – ”

I closed my eyes and grabbed the edge of the counter for support. “What are you?” I whispered as an irrelevant voice in my head pointed out that he wasn't lisping anymore.

“Shape-shifter. We all are. My family, that is. I’m sworn to tell no one, but it was Halloween, and I was here yesterday when your mother was talking about making her awesome cake and, uh, I…” He trailed off, too embarrassed, I think, to continue.

“You’re – you’re a – a jerk! You know that? You scared me half to death, you moron! Why? Just – why?” No wonder he’d been so calm on the phone! Oooh!

Corbin shrugged.

“Not good enough, Cor! You better come up with something to say, and I mean now!”

He reached back, swiped a finger through the thick, fudgy frosting, popped it into his mouth, and with chocolate-coated teeth he grinned and said, “Trick or treat?”

I nodded, more aggravated than I’d ever been in my life, and decided not to tell him what else my mom had put into that cake….

The End


~ Judy Colella

Text: Judith A. Colella
Publication Date: 10-12-2011

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