Everything was almost ready.
She could hear the others talking and laughing as they walked up the street to her door. They’re here. Celeste looked at her wet hands. There was no time to wash so she rubbed her face and her tattered clothing with her palms, and raked her fingertips through frizzy blonde hair.
She counted to five and opened the door, and laughed when she heard the cacophony of screams and shrieks.
“Happy Halloween!”
“Trick or Treat!”
The Grim Reaper, otherwise known as her neighbor Freddie, was the first to enter. He gasped as he looked around the room at all of its gory décor.
“You outdid yourself this year! And, wow, couldn’t figure out why you wanted that old mannequin from the dumpster. But, man, it’s freaky.”
The others agreed that they were frightened witless though they laughed and walked to the tables shrouded in misty white vapor trails from the dry ice, and helped themselves to the food and drinks.
At the end of the evening, vampires, witches, French maids, gargoyles and all the other costumed people from Weeping Willow Lane raised their glasses and toasted Celeste on being the scariest person in the neighborhood on this night of all nights.
* * * * * *
Celeste didn’t feel like cleaning up after everyone left, though she did have them take the mannequin and set it by the curb for the garbage collection tomorrow. She went to her bedroom and locked the door behind her.
He was there.
He was lying on plastic sheeting under her window.
All trussed up.
Celeste would never forgive him for telling her that morning that he wanted nothing more to do with her or their relationship – that she was a freak.
What I am, she thought, is a do it yourself type of woman.
She drew the blinds. She picked up the hacksaw.
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