Spooky. Really Spooky!
Before the moon had to have been arisen, nothing.
Nada. Zip. Zilch.
Then . . . there they were. Two cute little girls. Seemingly. Not "seemingly" like in there they were. Of course, they were there, silly. Where else could they be. If they were there; there they were. But, "seemingly", as in as if they were cute. Cute enough, though. Some would say, anyway.
Themselves, in such a light, as otherworldly a pair of creatures, and as different in their own two distinctly wonderful ways, as had ever been seen on any night in that lonely little town on the edge of the deep dark forest. Or, any other town, for that matter. Or, any forest. But, mostly and most certainly, on this night.
Never mind. Just to say, as far as differences are concerned, one liked Jimmies on her ice cream cone. The other, preferred plain. How different could they be! There were other points of departure, but that's not the story.
Proceed . . . At you own risk!
It had to be a night like this. Well! It was All Hallows Eve. You know that night in most of the land when kids would dress up in all kinds of make believe costumes. Ghouls. Goblins. Sharknadoes. Penguins. Witches. Refrigerator boxes. Sponges? Enough! Let's just say . . . all kinds of stuff. You name it! (Sponges?)
Kids! Ha! Adults too! Especially those raising children. The kind they call "parents". Those adults were also known to divest themselves of the usual roles they played, and joined in the fun. Fun? Or was it? Who would leave two such innocent and lovely little creatures such as these out all alone on such a night, in such a place, at such an hour? And, such and such.
Nevertheless, our two lovelies found themselves on that evening in what could only be called a ghost town. Nary any other soul in sight. Make that . . . not a soul. And, to make it worse, it was a Blood Moon night. Blood? Whose blood? Oh, the night was young. Things could happen. The question is . . . to whom? And . . . what?
On such a moon night when that spooky orb shone red, a town like this with so many red stone and brick edifices was no place to be found, let alone two children unfamiliar with the place, and a third one gone missing. Did we mention there was a third. More on that, later. But, soon.
When the clouds parted and that sinister red glow engulfed the precincts of this lonely, lost, lousy hamlet, the effect was to make most everything disappear. That's right. Like I already said, red bricks and stones under a red light — not just any red light, but the light of a Red Blood Moon — the whole place seemed to disappear. You might as well have found yourself on the Moon itself. Empty. Lonely.
Definitely . . . SPOOKY!
They had their mission. That little boy. Yah, that "third" one, like I alluded to previously in the aforementioned. Where the heck was that little brat? Well, brat is perhaps too strong a word. For some. Like his Aunty, or Grandmamma. He was sometimes a brat. But not always. But, enough of the time to earn that appellation.
Oh, yes! Listen to this. Once, when he was being particularly bratty, under cover of the dead of night, he built a snowman right in the middle of the living room. Everyone in the household awoke to surprise and fright at such a sight. Not to mention how the heat came on automatically just before everyone got out of bed, and the snowman was already starting to melt when everyone first laid eyes on it; and, naturally they weren't all too well pleased. Who would be? A little disappointment to our bratty little lad as well, since he festooned said snowman with every last piece of candy and cake decoration in the house, and by now with the melting all of it had slipped into a messy mess at the bottom of the snowman, and no one was there in time to see his "creation" in all its festoonery. He was not pleased. Neither was anyone else. A lose, lose situation, as they say.
Could it be that in fact our little so-called "brat" was just another misunderstood boychick. He did want to please, after all, decorating the snowman as he did with every last tiny bit of wonderfulness he could find in the pantry. Yes, misunderstood. But, there was no misunderstanding about the mess he left in the living room, and who had to tidy up said mess. Make that . . . everyone. You don't leave clearing up a melting snowman in the middle of your living room to just one person. A kid, no less. Everyone must pitch in. With the heat coming on and the snowman melting, you could have on your hands a real mess. If it got any hotter, you'd have a mess-er-shvitz. Not to be confused with a Messerschmitt. Like this such one.
(By the way, that's our boy there in the driver's seat. In case you see him before they do.)
Proceeding. See what I mean? Not only a brat. But, his antics would be sure to get you onto a tangent. Off track, as it were. And that was on one of his better days. Also, just one of zillions of other such and such. Each one worst than the other. That's right, "worst".
Motives aside. He was a brat. Stone . . . B-R-A-T!!!
But, where the heck was he anyway?
As if on such a night, in such a place, that's all the two of them had to do. Looking around who knows where for a kid who at the moment anyway due to some such prank he pulled just a little while ago not long before they weren't much in the mood for having him back at their side anyway. But, he was their brother. And, what do good sisters do when brother — even a bratty brother such as he — needs a hand? Of course, they lend it. Or, them. Since there were two of them, each with two hands. Even though they would probably prefer to apply said hands onto his backside. One-at-a-time.
The first clue they had was the Jack-O-Lantern. Each of them had one. Each one of them, cuter than the next. The Jack-O-Lanterns, that is. One was not in its right place, but in the street. His. Its face was angled off to their left so it was logical for them to go off in that direction to look for their compadre. Besides, what other clue did they have? Six of one, half dozen of the other. They could have just as well flipped a coin. But off to the left they would go. And, besides, it was downhill, so it made the going easier. So as not to keep you in suspense, yes, it was in fact the right decision. To go on off to the leftward-wise.
Not too far along their way they came upon a crossroads. Who doesn't? Right? They looked in every direction. Not much luck since everything was pretty much a dark featurelessness. They called out. "Dear Brother!" "Dear Brother!" "Dear Brother!" I don't know why they used those words. He hadn't heard them talk like that to him before, the little brat! But the sound of their voices was indeed recognizable. And off in the distance they could hear something. What? Giggling! What? Like I said, giggling. That little twerp deliberately gave them the slip. Another prankity prankerson prankster prank! That BOY!
It could all be chalked up to a night of good fun and games. Except for one thing. The street leading off from that crossroads where they stood calling after him led off into the woods. Even darker were those woods than the town where they started off in, in the first place. You could say things were looking dark. Because, silly, it was dark. Geeze. Do I have to spell everything out?
Are you afraid of the dark? Or, just afraid. In general. Fear . . . that old thing. Give it up. Or, as the song goes. You know. "Let it . . . Go."
Bravely they ventured forth. Down the street in the direction of his faint little voice way off in the distance. In the woods, it would turn out. But they didn't know that. They would, soon enough, though. For all the darkness that enveloped them it's a wonder they even knew they were in a forest when they were actually in the forest. Except for bumping into a tree or two or three as they tentatively made their way on their rescue mission. Rescue? That's what they thought.
Little did they know he was wearing his LEGO® night vision goggles; and, in fact, he could see them just fine. So every time they zigged, he zagged. Little bugger! Hide and seek, is it?
But, and after a long time of this, just for an instant the moonlight lit up the scene and they saw him. Right there! No doubt about it. They saw him darting hither and thither, in his sneaky little game to elude their notice. They were on to him. And now, the game was afoot. Not 12 inches, which is about as far as you could see in that dark night in the forest. Which would in fact make a great name for such a game . . . "A Foot!" For when you could only see a foot. But, this was different. Which brings up the question . . . why isn't your nose 12 inches long? Well, silly, then it would be a . . . foot. Get it?
Once they knew he was just playing with them, they decided to turn the tables. It's a figure of speech. Like speaking of Jayne Mansfield's. A figure to speak of, for sure. Not a table in sight, except for that cut off tree trunk. It made a nice table. So they placed his Jack-O-Lantern on that handy spot and left it there. Skedaddled right out of the woods. How, you ask, if it was so dark, did they know how to get out of there? Much less, skedaddle out. Well, like good Girl Scouts, which they were, they carried string and let it out as they went forward into the glade wheretofore to which to form a guide to follow whence and wherefore it was time to get the heck out of there. Heck! Hell! . . . is more like it. And, which, they did.
So there he was. All . . . alone.
Just then a big old monster came along and gobbled him up. Monsters tend to be sudden and unceremonious.
Their story doesn't end there. No siree. It was that little brat's brattiness what saved him. You see, it made him rather, ahem, indigestible. As soon as that monster gobbled him up, that monster's big old ugly tummy threw him up and out. The kid was naturally quite shocked and surprised. And, smelling to high heaven. But, not in a good way. Serves him right, though.
Anyhow, somehow (as bratty as he was, he was also lucky) he got hold of the string his two sisters left, and followed it out said woods. They all met up and were all set to live happily ever after, but just then a wicked witch appeared and snatched them up and drove them away in a van which was decorated to look like a broom. Very convincing, in fact. If you saw it on the road you'd think it was in fact a broom. She was ugly too.
As they cowered in the back of that cold dark van, the witch drove on at a maddening pace. When she stopped and opened the van door, what did they see? They were home again. Surprise! Remember how I said the parents liked to dress up too? It was dear Mommy. They were so relieved. They ran into the house. And, straight to bed.
They even ran past that ghoulish creature sitting in dad's chair in the living room. "Hey, pops!" They called out, as they ran past to their rooms.
Pops! Really? Dear Daddy was in fact at that very moment in the kitchen making some hot chocolate at the time. Not in his chair. Capeesh? Get the picture? If not, this is something like it.
BOOO!!!!
The End
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