The Erratic Halloween

Told from Lucifer's point of view, the written and first-hand accounts are uncovered.

Lucifer really loved Halloween, all the candy and trick-or-treating, but all of this stopped in fork-night

Will Lucifer succeed in discovering the perpetuous anomalies? Who, or what is behind the vanishing of the neighbors?


1. Chapter 1

I'm always excited for Halloween, and it is my favorite holiday. People dress up, and trick-or-treat, and it is just overall a great time of they year. I guess I'm a nerd. Well, I'm fourteen years old, I guess I'm more than nerdy. People might consider me cringe-worthy.

No one appreciates horror as I do, I exemplify the standards for the genre of horror, and currently dabble in the area of writing such an expertise; no one appreciates my ideas though. Halloween was seven days away, and I could barely keep my socks on my feet, and my feet on the ground.

Some rather disturbing news had come up in the past few hours though, I found it rather concerning. Our neighbors, the Sheffield's, had all strangely disappeared. How it occurred to everyone was very disturbing, extensively. A friend knocked on the door, as he was coming to hangout with Jared Sheffield. They were friends. He knocked, and texted him, shouting, as the lights were on, and the TV could be heard if focused enough.

Jared's friend eventually had the nerve to attempt to enter the house without permission. The door was unlocked when he tried, and the house was rather gloomy. He said it sent chills up his spine as he glanced around, seeing the usually ludicrous household so silent, he could hear a pen drop-- except, what he heard wasn't a pen. It was the Sheffield's newest addition to the family. Kelly Sheffield was whining in the distance. 

Jared's friend, otherwise known as Tim, made his way through the living room, the kitchen, and in the second living room there she was, stretched out on the floor crying. Tim put the baby in his arms, checked the entire house for someone, and the backyard. He simply said, "I found it strange that they would just leave their baby, so I called the cops."

For myself, I had researched everything I could on this anomaly. The cops, showed up, and there were no witnesses to the families disappearance, nor captivity. What I did manage to find was quite interesting.

Families seem to disappear at camping trips, and vacations, but never in their own home. Some cases even describe, fresh milk, isolated wallets, cooked food, and signs of life very recent. They never were found though.

I looked in my mirror, glancing at my dark black hair, and dark black eyes, how goth I was, but I wasn't goth culturally speaking.

I turned from the mirror very swiftly, always making sure to never gander at myself in it for too long, otherwise I might sight some anomalies that could haunt me in my nightmares. Hopefully not...hopefully. It has happened before.

There are five rules I stick by with my heart, and they are not to be broken. Rule number one, don't look out of a window after the sun has gone down. Rule number two, if any conspicuous sounds are distantly made, do not investigate, hide. Rule number three, breathe twice a minute if hiding. Rule number four, if paranormal coincident's become more frequent, talk to about three or four friends in a group setting. Rule number five, if all comes to worst, close my eyes, and pray.

These are the thriller rules I live by, and they are effective. I am not the occasional dumb movie actor, who gets themselves killed by asking for help when they can clearly run away, and I don't plan on making a fool of myself now. I am smart and intelligent.

"Lucifer, supper is ready!" Mom called.

My mom had dark brown hair, and brown eyes, her light pale skin embellished her darker features, and obscured her lighter ones. She was your average hunky-dunky mom otherwise. I learned not to call her chunky at a very young age. Not a place, or time I'd like to experience again.

I walked into the dining room where my mother and father waited for me, my little sister, Veronica, played with her spaghetti. Dad was as bold as ever, exhausted from work he sighed and groaned about his terrible misfortunes; doesn't hurt to mention that their marriage hasn't been all that stable lately.

Dad was a really tan man, with hairy arms and a mustache that could break your will to live in seconds. His hair was beginning to gray, and his ginormous fingers stretched out to his fork.

"Come on son. Sit at the table with us, so we can pray for the Sheffield's family, and their safety." He said.

"I'm coming." I said.

I scooted myself in under the table, directly across from my four year old sister.She didn't understand the concept of prayer yet, and dad spoke over her, while mom shushed her occasionally while we bowed our heads.

Not often did we pray like this, and it was rather strange coming from a family that scarcely attended church. It must be dad's fear for the Sheffield's. My dad and Mr. Sheffield were best friends in high school, somehow they lived beside each other. They had a really intimate friendship.

We ate in silence, while Veronica squealed and wheeled her fork around in the air. She certainly did improve the mood, and it was almost relieving.

Dad broke the troubling silence, "Lucifer, do you know anything about why the Sheffield's disappeared?" He said.

"No, why do you ask?" I said, confused by his tone.

"Well, it's just-- you know you're really into Halloween still, and...if this is some kind of prank, you need to tell me, or you could get into a lot of trou--" 

"No! I haven't, I would never do such a thing to the Sheffield's dad, and you know it!" I said, furious he would suspect me.

"You don't talk to me like that. I don't think you've grown out the belt yet, I'd watch your mouth. I was just concerned." He said.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again, sir." I ate in silence for the rest of supper, while mom and dad discussed the latest gossip, and the election.

My mother took my plate, "You can go now Lucifer." She kissed me on the forehead, rounding her way to the kitchen. Her kitchen apron was really old. It made me think, in modern day times, what kind of family was this? Most kids cuddled near their phones, or the TV and ate, but we still dined at the table.

The house grew quite, and everyone went to bed, as I lay awake, staring down, out of my window, gazing at the Sheffield's  house. It was so mundane and eerie, as the lights had been turned off, and police tape confined its land claims.

People were anxiously scared of clowns, ghosts, and murderers; I was afraid of the paranormal, the unknown, and the eerie plans the killer made, not the killer himself, but his devious actions, that make him mysterious and unknown to the outside world. An assassin in the night, a crazed freak with a bloody frenzy, and the people who get dopamine releases from the sheer brutality of a knife sliding into someone's silky flesh.

A figure shredded across the gloomy window of the Sheffield's. It sent chills up my spine, as a light shined, then a pounding sound of gunfire exploded from the light. The neighborhood immediately became a transfixed glowing statue. As the lights continued to come on, the closest neighbors to the Sheffield's rushed out of their houses. Including dad, as he ran out under the police tape, and burst through the door. Minutes later, he came out of the door carrying a lifeless body in his hands, others gathered around in horror.

It was Mr. Sheffield. He had shot himself, and dad was mourning in silence. The other neighbors conversed about the situation, and some even cried. I was tempted to go down, but I knew this would be a bad time for dad to deal with me.

I was going to investigate that house, and what really was going on, there was more behind this, and it had blackmail all over it. If not blackmail, maybe possession? The possibilities are endless, but first, I need to gather my trusty spy crew that was disbanded five years ago. Maybe they'll want to get it back together, I hope so. I didn't exactly have any friends outside of the ones that played detective with me. I just know, this is a journey that needs more than a set of eyes to dismantle.

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