The Friendly Man planted the last of the heads then studied the sky. The forecast called for a slight chance of rain, but the clouds were receding and it looked more and more like they would have a clear night. A smile spread across his face because Halloween was the most important evening of the year for the Friendly Man. He looked down the street where the children were playing in their yards, showing off their costumes before they began circulating through the neighborhood. The girl across the street was watching him intently. She stood at the end of her driveway with a plastic pumpkin container rocking on her heels. His smile broadened.
The Friendly Man’s house stood at the top of Main Street where it came to dead end. Most of the Victorian homes that lined the street had been remodeled, making it one of the most desirable real estate locations in the city. The Friendly Man’s home was one of the few that had not been remodeled since the day it was built. Down in its bowels the open flame gas furnace was coming to life and the noxious warmth began drifting to various rooms through the metal tentacles which branched from the iron hull. The window glass was occluded by age and the trim was cracked. He had been offered a lot of money to sell the house so that new, more industrious owners could replace the dark green paneling and ancient black shingles. But the Friendly Man would never sell. This was the street that attracted the children on Halloween.
Almost all of the homes had decorations. Some were half-hearted while others were more spirited. There were the usual witches on broomsticks and cats with their backs arched. Some displayed pumpkins which had been so elaborately carved they bordered on obsessive genius. But the Friendly Man’s house stood out among the scarecrows and pillow ghosts. Every child viewed the street as a gauntlet and at the end of the road you had to get by the Friendly Man.
He turned and studied his decorations. There was a row of heads planted on sharpened sticks along the walkway. The Friendly Man made them himself using his own special process of brining and plastination. Most bore expressions of profound terror or sadness. He could still call each one of the donors by name. Along the gutters hung various hands, legs and torsos—all of which had been subjected to the same technique. The Friendly Man had no patience with rubber prosthetics. He was a man that prided himself on the authenticity of his display.
Sometimes he would see the uneasiness on the faces of his neighbors as they pondered the verisimilitude of his ghastly display, but the plastination gave off just enough sheen in the colored spotlights to make the objects look like they could be artificial. Every so often someone would ask him in an indirect way if he ever thought about “toning it down”. This idea never occurred to the Friendly Man who always had an extra surprise waiting for the kids when they got to the door.
He went back inside the house and initiated the power to the display and his house came to life. Some of the heads he had preserved before his technique was perfected had that sleepy look heads get after they have been cut off. But soon he had learned how to pose the faces in ways that were more to his liking. He tried to remain true to the individual’s expressive inclinations in life. Recently he had discovered that working from photographs taken during their last moments worked best. The lighting this year was red because it activated the fear responses in the children. In addition, his yard echoed with the sound of buzzing bees. This was a deviation from last year when he used a recording of pigs being slaughtered. He hoped that the unconscious fear of angry insects would heighten the children’s cortisol production. It was important that they were in a peak state of agitation by the time they reached the door.
Once he was satisfied that everything met his meticulous standards, he went to check on the surprise. His name was Jack. He had come to visit the Friendly Man about buying new gutters for his house. That was when the Friendly Man had a moment of inspiration. He hollowed out a portion of the bushes that grew alongside his house and there he placed Jack on a wooden platform next to his front window. The kids would never see him until they were right at the door. His arms were tied behind his back and one of his legs had been amputated and tied-off with a crude tourniquet. The Friendly Man came around to the window next to Jack’s head and opened it.
“Hey Jack! You hanging in there?”
The man did not stir. The Friendly Man was worried he had used too much morphine.
“C’mon Jack, we only have a few minutes.” He reached out and patted Jack’s cheek. He moaned softly and the Friendly Man smiled. Jack would be fine. The five-thousand volt cattle prod would see to that. The Friendly Man placed the bowl of candy by the door and began to pace about his living room. He always got very excited right before the fun commenced. He rubbed his hands together and smiled like an expectant father. Soon there were distant sounds of laughter in the street.
He peered outside his window and waited. The first people to approach were a young couple who had just moved onto the street. The child was very young. The young ones always came out early. This one was a little boy. His parents were trying to drag him up the walkway.
“Noooo!” he screamed.
“Come on. I am sure it’s all right. Don’t you want some candy?”
“Nooo! I’m not going! I’m not going! I’m afraid!”
The Friendly Man giggled and wrung his hands together in delight at the child’s distress. The sound of the little boy’s wails were like sweet angelic harps to his ears. Finally the parents relented and they went to the next house.
“Maybe next year,” the Friendly Man muttered under his breath. It was always a good omen when the little ones wouldn’t even attempt an approach.
The next parents who came to the house were pushing a stroller. The Friendly Man frowned. He did not particularly like the ones that were this young. They did not understand fear. They were just innate blobs of protoplasm. The genius of his surprise would be lost on them. Before they could ring the doorbell he intervened by opening the door and greeting them with a smile.
“Happy Halloween!”
The parents seemed young and energetic. The Friendly Man could not tell if it was a boy or a girl in the stroller, though it was dressed as race car driver. It stared uncomprehendingly when he offered it the candy.
“What would you like Cole?” asked the woman. The child looked up at the Friendly Man who waited impatiently. “How about some M&Ms?” the woman prompted. The Friendly Man navigated the candy bowl so that the M&Ms were directly beneath the child’s hand and to his relief the fingers closed reflexively. As he retracted the bowl the child maintained his grip while the father took a picture.
“This place is a trip,” he said. “I am pretty sure I have never seen anything quite like it. It’s totally Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Those bones look totally real.”
“Thank you,” said the Friendly Man.
“Where did you buy this stuff? It’s really high quality.”
The Friendly Man beamed. “Actually, I have a little shop downstairs. I make everything by hand.”
“No kidding,” said the woman. “Every time we meet one of our neighbors, we are always amazed at how many talented people live on this street. We had no idea that we were neighbors with a special effects artist.”
As they departed the Friendly Man noticed it was finally getting dark. No sooner had he closed the door than he heard voices approaching from the other direction. These were older kids running in a pack. The Friendly Man held his breath in anticipation. This was his target audience.
There were seven of them. He listened to their voices through the door. “Holy crap! Look at this place. This is freaking awesome,” said one.
“This place always rocks,” said another. “And he gives out full-sized candy bars.”
They got to the door and paused.
“You knock.”
“I don’t want to. You do it.”
Then a girl’s voice piped-up. “What is wrong with you guys? Nothing is going to happen. Besides the sign says ring the doorbell. You want me to do it?”
“No, I’ll do it.”
One of the children pressed the doorbell, activating the floodlight in the bushes along with the cattle prod. Jack began thrashing and screaming. The sight of a bloody, partially dismembered man jerking spasmodically sent the children running. The Friendly Man flung the door open and yelled “Happy Halloween,” to his astonished congregation. Half of them had actually darted back into the street. The Friendly Man felt an indescribable joy swelling inside of his body.
The girl who had spoken held her hand to her chest to calm her heart. “Oh my God. I think I nearly died.”
“I told you this place was freaking awesome,” said another as they lined up to take their candy. “Look at that guy’s leg. You can totally see the bone. That looks so real.”
“Hey, I think that’s a real guy. He is trying to speak. Is that a real guy?”
The Friendly Man winked. “Remember, death is always standing right behind you.”
This is what he said every year.
As the children dispersed the Friendly Man closed the door and dashed over to the window. “Jack,” he whispered. “That was great.”
The man was now conscious, though confused. “What’s happening? Why are you doing this?”
“Why? Because it’s Halloween. Oh wait . . . Here come some more.”
This time it was a group of four.
“This is weird,” said one.
“Can you hear the buzzing?”
“Yeah . . . And I heard something else. I think there is someone in the bushes.”
“Just ring the doorbell.”
Again the floodlight activated and 5000 volts surged through Jack who jerked and screamed. Again the children panicked and one fell off the porch. The Friendly Man beamed at the chaos through the peephole, then opened the door.
“Happy Halloween!”
“Man, that was over the top!”
The one who had fallen off the porch came back up the steps. “I think I just crapped myself.”
“Remember, death is always standing right behind you.”
As the children ran to the next house one of them was visibly limping. The Friendly Man sighed contentedly. He closed the door and returned to the window.
“Look, Jack. It’s better if you don’t make any noise until they ring the doorbell.”
“What? What happened to me? Where is my leg?”
“It’s hanging from the gutter over there. Now listen, they can hear you moaning when they come up the walk. I mean it still works, but it’s better if they don’t know which direction it’s going to come from. Understand? Okay, here’s another group.”
As the Friendly Man ran back to the door Jack was saying “What? That’s my leg hanging over there?”
The kids rang the doorbell and the Friendly Man danced to the sounds of their mayhem. It was beautiful. This time there was a parent nearby.
“Wow,” said the man with the filtered flashlight. “That was intense. You really aren’t pulling any punches here.” It was clear he was even more rattled than the kids.
“I think Halloween is a special night. It gives them something to remember.”
“Well I know I am not going to forget it,” said the man.
“Help me,” said Jack who was again shrouded in darkness. “Call my wife. Call the police. I need a doctor.”
“Is that guy okay?”
“That’s my nephew. I paid him fifty bucks not to break character. You know he’s got a scholarship to study acting in college next year. Pretty good, isn’t he?”
“Sure had me fooled,” said the man. “Well goodnight and enjoy scaring the socks off of the whole neighborhood.” He turned to the bushes. “Good luck with the acting there, Buddy. I am putting you in for an academy award tonight.”
The Friendly Man waved. “Remember, death is always standing right behind you.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it. I think I married her.” The man laughed awkwardly then continued up the street to catch-up with the kids.
The Friendly Man checked the candy dish to make sure there was plenty then returned to the window.
“You’re doing great, Jack!”
“Please stop shocking me. I’ll do anything if you stop shocking me.”
“I’m not shocking you. You’re hooked to the doorbell. The kids are shocking you.”
“You have to stop this. You have to stop doing this to me. Can’t you just try to be reasonable?”
The Friendly Man stared hard at Jack for moment. “Jack . . . Do I seem like a reasonable man to you?”
Before Jack could answer the Friendly Man rushed back to the peephole. It was the little girl from across the street. She was by herself and dressed in an angel outfit with wings. She was a little young to be out by herself, but he had noticed she was becoming increasingly insistent about approaching his house alone. The Friendly Man cackled as she cautiously made her way to the door, a steely eyed veteran of his tricks. He watched her look to one side when Jack began his entreaties.
“Dammit Jack,” whispered the Friendly Man to himself. “If you screw this up you are really going to pay.”
After she pressed the doorbell, he watched her visibly flinch as Jack began his electrical histrionics, but it was nothing close to the panic he had induced in the other children.
He opened the door. “Now that is what I am talking about. You are one tough cookie my little friend. I am going to have to start upping my game.”
She smiled with pride as she selected her candy. “I was scared for just a second,” she admitted.
“But you held your ground, and that’s what counts. Just remember, death is always standing right behind you.”
She nodded and then impishly pressed the doorbell again and watched with delight as Jack writhed, spit flying from clenched teeth and his gruesome stump convulsing. It was not wise to let Jack take two jolts like that. It wasn’t like he was going to last the whole night, but the Friendly Man couldn’t help but indulge the little girl. He watched as she dashed into the night and breathed the cool autumn air, enjoying the smell of decaying leaves. There was a great sense of release in his body—a feeling of well-being he rarely experienced. Listening to the street he sensed a lull in the action. He went inside and got a bottle of water and returned to the window.
“Here’s a drink of water Jack. You’re starting to lose your voice. We can’t have you getting dehydrated now can we?”
The man gulped the proffered water greedily. His eyes were bloodshot and it was clear that he was only partially conscious of his surroundings. The Friendly Man frowned and retrieved his flashlight, shining it into Jack’s eyes. “You are about to go into shock again. But, don’t worry. The electricity should wake you up. I am not certain how much longer your central nervous system will last, but you are holding up pretty well. You must workout. Do you jog or something?”
Jack nodded while his mind drifted in and out of focus. “Bicycle.”
“Biking! I knew it had to be something like that. You know it is a good thing you took such good care of yourself. All of these people who just exercise and eat organic vegetables disgust me. It’s like they want to live forever or something. At least this way all that hard work you put into caring for your body hasn’t been a total waste of time. Did you see that one kid fall off the porch? He will never forget that. You are really making an impression.”
“Can you please turn off the current?”
“Jack, the idea is to scare the kids, not put them to sleep. You have to create a climate of sustained agitation in their minds, then shock their systems with massive jolt of fear. Mortal terror is an essential part of childhood development.”
“But I can . . . I can pretend.”
“No can do, Jack. Look, these kids are already spreading the word. We have set a high bar here tonight. Some things cannot be done in half measures. Here comes another group. Get ready.”
The doorbell chimed and the gruesome cycle repeated itself. This time one of the kids fled the house without getting his candy. The Friendly Man clapped his hands in victory then returned to the window.
“Now what were we talking about?”
“In the name of God, I beg you to stop. You have got to stop.”
“Religion? Don’t even get me started on that one. Those Christians are the worst. I’ve got two of them on stakes out front there. I guess they came peddling their Bibles to the wrong house. They flounce around telling everyone who will listen that God loves them and they are going to live forever in magic-land. I mean what kind of an idiot would believe that? And the worst part is they pour all of that crap into the heads of their kids. These poor children have few defenses against that sort of nonsense. You see, that’s where I come in.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’ll tell you what’s insane, Jack. Pyramids.”
“Pyramids?”
“Yeah. Why did the Egyptians build the pyramids? Because they were afraid of death. Think about thousands of people dragging those giant granite slabs up the side of those ridiculous artificial mountains. And for what? It’s just one big condo for your mummified boss. You can’t take it with you. What an enormous waste of resources. One look at my yard and you see there is no ambiguity here—no delusion. This is the end of the line. You cross the threshold of my front door and you are not getting out alive.”
The Friendly Man paused and listened to the sound of laughter on the street. Jack moaned and tensed in painful anticipation.
“Okay. They are on the other side of the street. False alarm. Anyway, all these kids nowadays are told they are special and that their opinions matter. Let me tell you what. You don’t matter. Nothing that you say or do or think matters. When you die, that’s it. The universe slams shut behind you and it’s like you were never here. All you leave behind is a stinking corpse on a meat hook. That’s all we are.”
The doorbell caught them both by surprise. There were more shrieks of terror from the yard. The Friendly Man went out and greeted his guests in his usual manner. As the children left they began chanting the Friendly Man’s reminder in unison.
“Death is always standing right behind you! Death is always standing right behind you.”
He returned to the window. “What’s burning over here? Oh . . . I wouldn’t think 5000 volts would do that. You still got a few more in you?”
“Please, stop doing this to me.” For Jack, the pain was more than just physical. There was something humiliating about having his torment take place right out in public with no one lifting a finger to stop it. It reached a level of sickness that he thought unattainable.
“That’s the other problem with today. Everyone just thinks about themselves. Have you ever thought about what it’s like for guys like me? You know, guys who do this sort of thing.” The Friendly Man gestured to the array of body parts hanging around the house. “Look, nobody is throwing me a parade on my special day. You know how often I get to come out of the closet? One night a year. I get to be myself in public for one night a year. The rest of my life is spent in that damn cellar. You talk about injustice.”
“Am I going die?” whispered Jack, tears forming in his eyes.
“Well, of course. Oh . . . you mean tonight? Well, yeah . . . that too. Frankly I don’t know how much more you can take. I am actually surprised you are still with me. Hey look, I know it sucks that this is your last night on Earth and you have to spend it listening to me go on and on. But I am simply telling you this so you understand your death is serving a higher purpose.”
As the night wore on the children came and went until Jack’s body was at an end. Each time the terrible pain coursed through his system he could hear their cries of horror mixed with delight. It was so strange that people could take pleasure from this terrible spectacle. But even through this haze of suffering, he began to perceive that there was a sick logic to it. It was as if this brutal ritual was teaching a valuable lesson—that the mastery of something as inevitable as death could only be achieved through its acceptance. But even as this thought took shape in his mind, he rejected it. He thought about all of the things he wanted to do with his life and he knew one thing. He was going to live.
As the crowds turned into a trickle, the Friendly Man shut off the lights. The candy bowl was almost empty. Jack pulled at the ropes, but was too weak to free his hands. He knew that there was no way to reason with his captor who was clearly insane. Little bits of half remembered prayers tumbled from his lips. As he searched his mind for a plan he felt a small hand on his shoulder.
“Be really quiet.” It was a girl’s voice. “I’m gonna cut these ropes, but you’ve got to be really quiet. He can hear good. Okay?”
Jack nodded, a glimmer of hope piercing this endless nightmare. He did not know who his savior was, but all he could do was whisper, “Thank you.”
He felt the knife cutting through the nylon cord and after several seconds his hands were free. When he could move them, he reached around and pulled the cattle prod from his flesh. He winced at the pain because the electrodes had fused to his skin.
He heard a distant voice say “You have to crawl. Don’t go to the front or he will see you. There is a way out around back. Come with me.”
Following the voice he rolled to his side and began pulling himself through the bushes, dragging his ruined stump across the ground. “I’m going to live. I’m going to live. I’m going to live,” he said over and over again.
“Just follow me,” said the voice. Jack’s field of vision was blurry, but he could see enough to realize that whoever was saving him had wings. Then it came to him. He was being rescued by an angel. God had heard his prayers and sent an angel to rescue him, just like he had read about in all of the books and seen in all of the movies. Silently he gave thanks to his protector and picked up his pace, keeping sight of the luminescent wings under the feeble glow of the street lights. All Jack knew was that he had to follow his angel.
Meanwhile the Friendly Man was straightening his house. It was important to bring in the decorations first thing. He couldn’t have anyone stealing one for a souvenir. When he went out on the front porch and peered into the hollowed spot next to the bushes he noticed that Jack was gone.
“Now where did you go?” he asked. He dashed to the street and looked in both directions. “Nope. This is not good,” he said to himself. He knew this year’s plan was risky. If he did not find his decoration, it would mean no more Halloweens for him. That would mean villagers with torches and pitchforks. Then he heard a few dull thuds coming from the back of his house. Trying to look casual he jogged around to his backyard where he found the little girl from across the street standing over Jack. She was holding an aluminum softball bat. The man at her feet was inert.
“I see,” said the Friendly Man. “I guess the prank was on me this year.”
“Yeah,” said the little girl. “You had a funny look on your face.”
The Friendly Man laughed. “I guess I did. You had me going there. Let’s take a look at your handiwork. You didn’t hit him in the head did you?”
The girl twisted on one foot, the bat dangling from her hand. “Maybe.”
The Friendly Man was too relieved to be angry. “Yeah, you bashed him pretty good. He definitely has a fractured skull. You must think you’re Babe Ruth.”
“Who’s Babe Ruth?”
“Never mind. I think I can repair most of this. There is nothing like a good challenge.”
“You’re going to put him in your yard?”
“Well of course. You can’t go wasting things like this. Actually, he wasn’t a bad guy. I think maybe he was right about the gutters come to think of it. It wouldn’t do for him to go through all of that suffering for nothing.” Then he looked at the little girl. “You promise me something?”
“What?”
“You wash that bat when you get home.”
The little girl nodded her head and started to cross the yard. The Friendly Man took the body under each armpit and began to drag it around the side of the house. When he looked up, he saw the little girl was watching him again. She was smiling as a breeze came through the trees and a cluster of dead leaves dropped at her feet. There was something in her eye. It was more than just the gleam of a budding predator. It was a measured stare—almost a challenge.
“Remember,” she said. “Death is always standing right behind you.”
A chill went up his spine. The glitter from the wings of her costume shown in the moonlight.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I guess you’re right.”