You haven’t experienced Halloween until you’ve visited a Victorian-era, restored home with period furniture and decor, with scary music and sounds in the background, that people have actually died in. Especially when the woodwork in the main hallway looks exactly like a spooky, bloodshot eye.
This is the third year I’ve handed out candy at the Dayton House on Halloween night.
Some kids just bop right up the steps and don’t flinch when a creepy Bride of Death (me) floats out of the door and offers candy. Other kids pause on the sidewalk up to the house, and a few of them even hustle by the house as quickly as they possibly can without looking chicken. Some groups don’t even stop, but have long discussions on the sidewalk leading up to the house.
In previous years, when it wasn’t quite so cold, I stood outside, very still, leaning up against one of the pillars of the house, and then I’d move suddenly when the kids got close enough. I heard quite a few "WOAH!" and "Oh my GOD!" from the sidewalk when they saw me moving.
Of course I wouldn’t do that to little kids. Occasionally they get wigged out by my… creepy black wig, black lipstick and torn-up veil, so I’ve taken the veil and wig off before to reassure them.
This year there weren’t quite as many kids out as there have been in the past. I started out limiting each kid to one piece of candy, but eventually moved to three pieces and by doing that, got rid of most of the candy (generously donated for that purpose by Wal-Mart, and it was the good candy, too, not those horrible orange and black peanut butter things).
It was a lot of fun, even if the eye in the woodwork stared at me whenever I went indoors to refill the candy platter.
Maybe it just wanted some candy.