Ep.160 – Ghost in the Graveyard - On Halloween Spirits Are on the Loose!

Ghost In the Graveyard

by Rob Fields

It was the final week of October in Strickfield. After the previous year’s Halloween, the people of Strickfield had voted into village law by a huge majority that trick-or-treating was extended to a full week, instead of just Halloween Eve and Halloween Night as in previous years. The news had reached surrounding villages and even the bigger megalopolises like Shore City and Erie City. People came from everywhere to take part in the legendary event because there was never any age discrimination. And with the annual tradition being a week, more people came than ever. 

It was on the final night – Halloween Night – when Bill Chapman, Brian Chunk, and Richie Horton were out making their rounds. Their pillowcases were stuffed with all the candy and other goodies they’d collected. 

“Man, I can’t believe we actually did the whole week,” Horton, who was dressed as a Cobra Kai fighter, said. “I know we said we’d do a few days, but . . .”

“I know,” Chapman agreed, who was dressed as an Army soldier to match his crew cut.

“Yeah, but look at all the candy we got,” Chunker reminded them. He was dressed as a zombie. “We got so much stuff we’ll probably be eating it until next Halloween.”

Chapman sneered, “I’d be surprised if even you can eat that much candy, Chunker.”

Chunker made good on his promise to lose weight upon surviving their horrible ordeal with Abigail Tomlin in what seemed only short months ago. He was still a little chunky, but his weight loss was quite noticeable between the summer and now. In spite of the weight loss, Chunker found he still had his same monstrous appetite and exercised more in order to keep from putting the weight back on.  

“Chunker will probably end up getting diabetes,” Horton stated. 

When Chapman and Horton both laughed, Chunker just looked at them. “Yeah, yeah . . .”

“Man, these pillow sacks are heavy,” Chapman said. “Maybe we should head back to the clubhouse again.”

“Good idea,” Horton agreed. 

The boys walked a couple of blocks to get to their clubhouse, which was the old tool shed in Chunker’s backyard. His dad built a new garage with some extra space for the tools and told Brian he and his friends could use the old shed for a their hangout. 

They walked in and emptied their pillowcases into the large chest where their haul for the week continued to grow. 

“Looks like if we make one last set of rounds, we can actually fill this bad boy up completely,” Chunker stated. 

Chapman looked at his watch. “We still got time. We started at six, and trick-or-treating doesn’t get done until midnight. And there’s no school tomorrow.”

Horton looked at both his friends. “We’re really going back out for more candy?”

“What, you don’t want to?” Chapman asked. 

Horton glanced over at the chest. “I’m just wondering if Chunker will start on the candy since it’s all here at his place.”

Chapman pointed right at Brian. “You don’t want to be eating all the candy in one night, buddy.”

Chunker gave a mischievous grin. “You never know, I just might get the munchies in the middle of the night.”

Chapman tightened his jaw. “I mean it, Chunker, don’t you even . . .”

Chunker picked up his pillowcase and walked slowly to the door. “Fine.” 

When Chunker stopped in the doorway, Horton and Chapman heard what sounded like a very loud trumpet playing. When it stopped, Chunker quickly went outside and slammed the door shut. He pressed himself up against the door and soon felt the others pushing to get out. 

Chunker started laughing as the others were pounding and pushing hard on the door. He could even hear Horton coughing. 

“Open the door, you uneducated piece of pork fat!” Chapman yelled. “Oh, my god!”

“Come on, Chunker!” Horton protested after gagging. “We’re gonna die in here!”

Finally, Chunker got caught off guard when Chapman backed up and ran against the door to both force it open and knock Chunker down. Horton ended up falling on top of both of his friends and sucking for fresh air. Chunker was really laughing it up now. 

After Chapman eased Horton off him, he got up and pointed down at Chunker. “You really are a sick pig, man! I can’t believe you tried to kill us like that.”

“Seriously, what did you eat earlier?” Horton demanded. Then he gagged and moved further away from the clubhouse. 

“Yeah, keep the door open,” Chapman told Horton. Then he said to Chunker, “That’s the last time we go to Denoyer’s Grill with you before trick-or-treating.” Then he coughed and stepped away from the clubhouse. “And lay off that sweet potato pie!”

After waiting several minutes, Chapman and Horton went back inside to get their pillowcases. From there, they headed back out and onto the streets of Strickfield for more trick-or-treating. They’d received several comments from houses taking part about how they’d been around many times throughout the week. Just the same, they still gave the treats. After all, Strickfield was the one village where there was no discrimination for trick-or-treating. 

It was around eleven o’clock when the boys reached Denoyer’s Grill. 

“Now remember, Chunker, we’re not going in for food,” Chapman reminded him. “You just said you needed a bathroom break.”

“I know, I know,” he replied and opened the door. 

The boys walked inside to a still-packed dining room. They knew October was the biggest month where Denoyer’s Grill got the most business. This year, business really picked up during the first full week of trick-or-treating. Now it was Halloween Night, and people were still packing Denoyer’s Grill. It was also known that Denoyer paid his people extra for working this time of the year. 

“Back again, huh, boys?” Denoyer asked pleasantly. 

“Just using the bathroom,” Chunker told him. 

“You know where it is.”

They walked to the men’s room and went in. When they were finished, Chapman looked at Horton. “Hey, where’s Chunker?”

Horton gave a grim look that said he knew. The two of them finished washing their hands and came outside to find Chunker sitting at the counter and eating a piece of Denoyer’s famous sweet potato pie. 

Horton pointed to the pie. “This is why you blew up the clubhouse earlier. What is this, your fifth piece today?”

“Sixth,” Chunker corrected him. “Come on, guys. You know I don’t feel right using the restroom here and not putting into the till.”

Chapman wanted to yell again, but he sighed and ordered some fries. Horton ordered a soft drink. After they finished, they left Denoyer’s Grill and headed back out. 

“We only got about forty minutes until midnight,” Horton said. “Do we just head back to the clubhouse, or do we ride it out and get more candy?”

“I think we got more than enough to fill the rest of the chest back at the clubhouse,” Chunker stated. “Still, forty minutes is forty minutes. Might as well end on a high note.”

Even Chapman wasn’t going to give Chunker a hard time. They’d started trick-or-treating right at six every night when trick-or-treat week started and went all the way until the end. They knew they couldn’t stop now. Just a little while longer and they’d have officially trick-or-treated for seven nights straight – from start to finish. 

The boys managed to make the rounds on four more blocks before it was almost midnight and the week-long trick-or-treat festivities would be over for the season. 

“We really did it, guys,” Horton said with pride. “We got more candy than we ever did before, and probably all our other years combined.”

“Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Chapman agreed. “I’m surprised Chunker here went the distance.”

“Yeah, yeah . . . When have I ever not?” Chunker demanded. 

“Well, he did keep up with us on that night last summer,” Horton recalled. 

Chapman pointed at him. “Don’t you even talk about that, toothpick. We said we’d never talk about Abigail Tomlin ever again.”

When he saw both Horton and Chunker giving him strange looks, he started to wonder himself. 

He got a confirmation when Chunker pointed at him. “You’re still dreaming about her, too. Ain’t you?”

Chapman didn’t want to admit it, but the look on his face said enough. 

Horton adjusted his circular glasses. “Face it, you guys, we’ve never been able to forget about that ghostly woman.”

It had been just shortly after the boys had finished sixth grade and their time at Strickfield Elementary. Now they were at Strickfield Junior High. As much as they had tried, they just couldn’t forget the horror they had experienced on the Cry Baby Bridge on Indian Hollow Road. It was just supposed to be an urban legend. 

Brian and his older brother, Kenny, made plans to scare Horton and Chapman by making it seem like the legend of the Cry Baby Bridge was real. Kenny had even gone so far as to mount a speaker at the bridge to amplify the sounds of a little baby crying. The joke had worked, and Horton and Chapman were both scared. Kenny revealed the speaker before he took it down and went home. 

But what the three boys were about to find out was that the legend of the Cry Baby Bridge was indeed true. They not only heard a baby crying – Arthur Tomlin, but his mother had appeared in her horrible ghostly form. The boys were soon running for their very lives when Abigail Tomlin chased them through very heavy winds conjured up by the haunting itself. 

The boys barely made it as the morning sun came up and sent Abigail Tomlin back to whatever netherworld she may have come from. From that moment on, the boys made it a point to never go anywhere near that bridge on Indian Hollow Road ever again. Brian really wanted to tell Kenny that the legend of the Cry Baby Bridge was real, but he reconsidered when he realized Kenny might actually go out there and check out the legend for himself. After all, their father was the one who told the brothers the story of the Cry Baby Bridge. Naturally, Brian wanted to see if the legend was true. Many times over, he’d wished he hadn’t. 

The boys had never been the same after that. They kept having awful nightmares about Abigail Tomlin and the horrible ordeal that had cost her both her life and that of her baby son. Both of them died on that very bridge as a result of her tyrannical husband and the gunfight she had lost to him many years ago. 

The boys felt deep down that Abigail Tomlin wasn’t finished with them – not by a long shot. 

“I really didn’t want to say it,” Horton finally confessed. “She’s coming back for us. I think she’s just waiting for the right time.”

“How’s she going to come back for us?” Chapman demanded. “None of us have ever gone back to Indian Hollow Road. Right?”

Chunker shook his head. “I haven’t! No way!”

“Me neither,” Horton confessed. 

“I haven’t either,” Chapman also confessed. Then he reached out and swung his fist at nothing. “Why are we still dreaming about her, then? It’s like she’s still haunting us. I don’t want to say anything to Mom and Dad. I don’t know what they’d say.”

“My mom would likely take me to her shrink,” Horton piped up. “She already thinks I’m crazy enough, especially since I’m hanging around with you two.”

Both of them sighed; they knew Horton’s mother never really liked either of them. Still, she never forbade her son from being friends with them. Chapman and Chunker didn’t want to give Horton’s mom a reason to finally reconsider that. The three of them had been friends since first grade at Strickfield Elementary and had been through a lot together. While they were different in so many ways, they made their friendship last going into junior high. They knew they didn’t want their group to end. 

“Abigail Tomlin’s gonna keep driving us crazy,” Chunker stated. “I’m surprised we ain’t already nuts.”

“Or maybe we are and just don’t know it yet,” Horton interjected. 

“Shut up!” Chapman snapped, pushing Horton a little. Then he groaned. “Let’s go back to the clubhouse and talk about this some more. I don’t want to talk about this out here.”

“Good idea,” Chunker agreed. 

The boys turned down a nearby street, which took them past the gated community where it was all Mirrens. It always seemed to be the one area of Strickfield that stood out around October and December. The Mirrens never opened their gated community for Halloween for trick-or-treating, and they certainly never decorated for Christmas. The boys were quick to notice how deathly still it seemed on the inside. They kept walking until they were clear of the gated community. 

The boys continued to walk in silence. They would only have about three blocks before they’d reach Chunker’s house and their clubhouse. They’d just finished walking the first block and crossed into the second. They were about a quarter-mile into the block when they started to pass Village Cemetery. It was then when they heard some sounds in the distance. 

“You guys hear that?” Chunker asked quietly. 

“Sounds like . . . little kids playing?” Chapman replied, scratching his burred head. 

“It’s after midnight,” Horton noted. Then he checked his smartwatch. “It’s almost twelve-thirty.”

“Yeah, but we’re in junior high,” Chapman stressed. “The cops aren’t going to say anything to us. Besides, we’re not too far from Chunker’s house.”

“We might as well keep moving,” Chunker suggested. 

Then they heard the sounds of the little kids laughing in the cemetery again. The boys wanted to turn away and keep going, but deep down . . . 

“We should head inside and check on those kids,” Chapman said. 

“Yeah, but . . .” Horton stammered. When he saw the slight glare on Chapman’s face, he sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. It is too late for those kids to be out here.”

“And in a graveyard,” Chunker added. 

The boys went to the cemetery entrance and found the iron gates were locked tight. When they heard the children laughing again, they realized they had only one way inside. They tossed their pillowcases of candy over the wall and scaled it to get inside. After dropping to the grass below, they picked up their candy and stashed it until they could come back for it and leave.

“Over there,” Chunker said, pointing in the direction of the laughter. 

The boys walked cautiously through the seemingly endless rows of tombstones. Village Cemetery wasn’t nearly as big as Strickfield Cemetery, but it might as well have been with the atmosphere. There was a light fog among the tombstones. Even though it was officially November 1^st now, Halloween Night itself continued into the late hours in many places. Strickfield was no exception. 

“I can’t believe I’m walking around in a graveyard on Halloween Night,” Horton groaned.

“Yeah, yeah . . .” Chunker muttered. “Stick close.”

The boys kept walking cautiously through the cemetery until they came upon the scene of the laughter. It looked as though a group of children were in their Halloween costumes. They were laughing as it seemed they were playing a game. 

“Well, it don’t look like they’re in any danger,” Chunker observed. 

“Okay, guess we can go home, then,” Horton uttered quickly. 

As Horton turned away, Chapman snatched his wrist. “C’mon, dude. Really? Don’t forget, safety in numbers here.”

When Horton calmed down, Chapman let go of him. The boys watched the children still playing their game. They weren’t sure what the game was, but it looked like some form of Hide and Seek. 

Before the boys were going to talk about what to do next . . . 

“Ghost in the Graveyard! Ghost in the Graveyard!”

The boys shrieked with fright before they turned around to see a little girl dressed as Little Red Riding Hood pointing at Chunker in his zombie makeup. 

“Ghost in the Graveyard! Ghost in the Graveyard!” she called out again. 

It wasn’t long before a little boy came up next to the girl. His costume looked quite awkward. He appeared to be all wet. His makeup was really good because he seemed to look like he had some stages of decomposition on his face and arms. 

“That’s not the ghost, Annabeth,” the boy told her. “The ghost is still around in here somewhere. You know who the ghost is.”

Annabeth turned to the boy, still pointing at Chunker. “But he looks like a ghost, too, Arthur.”

Arthur was looking the boys over. “It’s not him,” he told Annabeth again.

“What are you guys doing here in the cemetery?” Chapman asked. “It’s after midnight. Aren’t you afraid the cops will come in here?”

Arthur laughed. “The police never come in here on Halloween. They got way too much to do tonight to be looking in here.”

“But what are you doing in here?” Horton asked. 

“Aw, we’re just playing our favorite game for Halloween Night, Ghost in the Graveyard,” Arthur answered. “Wanna play?”

The boys looked among themselves with uncertainty. 

“Aw, come on!” Arthur beckoned. “It’s Halloween Night! We got the whole graveyard all to ourselves. There ain’t gonna be any cops looking in here. Trust me on this!”

“O-o-o-okay,” Horton stammered. “We can play a few rounds, right? No school tomorrow and all.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chapman agreed. 

Chunker seemed just as unsure as his friends, but he still gave an affirming nod. Arthur motioned for the boys to follow him and Annabeth. He called for the other children, who were quick to gather around. 

“Okay, people, these guys are playing Ghost in the Graveyard with us,” he told them. “The ghost is still out there.” Then he explained the rules to the boys as he pointed to the nearby mausoleum. “That’s our home base. We already picked somebody to be the ghost. The ghost is out there in this cemetery somewhere. Now, we’ll chant the hours again so the ghost knows we got new players in the game. I’ll call out once we finish the chant. Once I do, we all go out looking for the ghost. If anybody spots the ghost, you yell Ghost in the Graveyard and run back to home base – the mausoleum. Now, if the ghost catches you at any point and you’re not at home base, then you become the next ghost. Got it?”

The boys nodded. Then Arthur led the chant by chanting the hours. When they reached midnight, Arthur called out, “Midnight, midnight, we hope we don’t see a ghost tonight!”

Everybody cautiously walked away from the mausoleum and started looking around. The boys pulled out their smartphones and turned on their camera flashes. They found they weren’t much help after a little bit. They also noticed they weren’t getting any reception. 

“I don’t like this,” Horton whispered. “Something’s really wrong here. I can feel it.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way,” Chunker agreed. 

“It’ll be okay, guys,” Chapman said. “We’ll just play a few rounds and then get these kids home.”

“You don’t sound so sure yourself,” Horton said. 

Chapman didn’t have to say it, but Horton and Chunker could both see it on his face that he was just as concerned as them. 

Just then . . . 

“Aw, come on, Chunker! Really?” Horton groaned as he coughed and waved his hand in front of his face. 

Chapman was also waving his hand in front of his own face. “Man, Chunker! You gotta stop eating so much of Denoyer’s sweet potato pie.”

“I’m sorry, guys,” Chunker said quietly. “It’s kind of scary in here.”

“It’s no different than during the day,” Chapman countered, trying to sound more confident than he felt. 

“Don’t you watch scary movies?” Horton demanded. “You know what you said ain’t right. It’s always different in a cemetery at night.”

Chapman groaned. “But we’re not in a scary movie, nerd.” 

“You’re right, we’re in a very scary graveyard – on Halloween night!” Horton said quickly. “It was nighttime when we saw a ghost over the summer.”

“Yeah, we know ghosts are real, Chapman,” Chunker reminded him.

Chapman looked like he wanted to yell at both of them, but he kept his thought to himself. Instead: “Any of you guys see the ghost yet?”

Horton shook his head. “No.”

“Nope!” Chunker replied. “Could be anywhere.”

And then Arthur joined up with them. “It’s okay, guys. There’s nothing to worry about. Once we find the ghost, we run back to home base.”

“You sure there’s somebody being the ghost out here?” Chunker asked him. “We’ve been looking around, and we haven’t seen anybody else.”

“Except you,” Horton added. 

“Trust me, there is a ghost,” Arthur promised. “Probably stalking us right now. Unless the ghost is where the others are.”

“Um, no,” Horton disagreed. “You said if anybody saw the ghost, they’re supposed to chant Ghost in the Graveyard.”

“Yeah, we haven’t heard anybody chant that yet,” Chunker stressed. 

Village Cemetery was lit decently thanks to the streetlights around the paths. The boys didn’t want to say it, but they seemed to think that Arthur’s makeup looked more and more realistic in terms of the decomposition. And he still looked soaking wet. If he was supposed to be a zombie himself, then whoever did his makeup was really good. 

“Let’s check over there at that mausoleum,” Arthur suggested. 

At first, Horton hesitated. Then Chapman reminded him, “Safety in numbers.”

“Okay,” Horton groaned. 

The four boys cautiously walked to the mausoleum Arthur was guiding them to. “I’m pretty sure the ghost is hiding in there. That’s where she was last time.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be better to hide somewhere else?” Chapman asked. 

Arthur didn’t say anything, but they continued until they reached the entrance of the mausoleum. 

“Mom? You in there?” Arthur called out. 

Horton looked from Chunker to Chapman. “Mom?”

Now both Chunker and Chapman had the same worried looks at Horton. 

Suddenly, the door to the mausoleum flew wide open. To the horror of the three friends, a ghastly glowing woman who wore a blood-stained, damp wedding gown now stood in the doorway. Her flesh was quite decayed, and her red eyes glowed as bright as those at railroad crossing gates. The apparition screamed with delight as she looked upon the three familiar faces. 

“My babies! You have finally come home to your mother!” Abigail Tomlin said in her dead and disembodied voice. Then she held her arms out to grab them. 

“ABIGAIL TOMLIN!!” the three friends screamed together. Then they turned and ran for all they were worth. 

The ghost of Abigail Tomlin screamed herself to pierce the stillness of the night as she began chasing them. 

“We’re not at the bridge,” Chunker moaned. “How is this even happening?”

“Ohmanohmanohmanohmanohmanohmanohman!” Horton squealed. 

“We gotta get outta here!” Chapman yelled. 

“There will never be any escape for you, my babies,” Abigail Tomlin called out to them. “Not this time . . . and never again.”

To the surprise of Chapman and Horton, Chunker was actually running fast enough to leave them behind. Horton shrieked and both he and Chapman ran faster to keep up with him. 

As the boys came upon the other children, they were yelling for them to run and waving their arms at them frantically. 

“Ghost in the Graveyard – for real!” Horton screamed. 

“Get outta here! Go home!” Chapman added. 

“We’re all gonna die if she catches us – for real!” Chunker yelled. 

When the other children saw Abigail Tomlin, they all screamed and scattered. 

“You can run all you want,” Arthur called to the three friends. “There’s no escape. Mom will have you all. You escaped her once, but there’s no escape this time.”

Then Horton made a startling realization. “He said his name was Arthur! That’s the name of Abigail Tomlin’s little baby boy, like in the legend of the Cry Baby Bridge.”

“You mean Arthur’s a ghost, too?” Chunker cried in disbelief. 

“Makes sense,” Chapman gasped. “He calls her Mom. They both died together at that bridge years ago.”

“You may run as much as you like, my children,” Abigail Tomlin called to them. “You are within the boundaries of this burial ground. You will never escape me again. Especially not before the sun rises.”

The boys knew the sun wouldn’t be up for several hours yet; it was just after one o’clock. 

“We can’t keep running much longer,” Chunker groaned. 

“Let’s get back to the wall and climb over,” Chapman yelled. 

The boys quickly reached the wall. With all the strength and determination that came with being scared for their lives, the boys quickly scaled the wall and dropped to the outside. Abigail Tomlin floated high enough to where they could see her. However, she could not float over the wall itself. 

The boys knew they were safe. But Abigail Tomlin gave them a weird look before she slowly lowered herself back into the cemetery. 

“Let’s get out of here!” Chunker said, after catching his breath. 

Horton was inclined to agree. However . . . “We can’t, guys. We can’t just leave those kids in there. Abigail Tomlin’ll claim them. You know she will. You guys want to go home, then go! But I won’t be able to sleep at night knowing I didn’t at least try to save them.”

True, the boys had escaped Abigail Tomlin once more. However, they knew Horton was right, and he certainly did not want to go back in there himself. 

“I’m with you, Horton,” Chapman said. “Way to put a guilt trip on us, but . . . sigh . . . you’re right. You know we’re not gonna make it out again, right? Tomlin’s gonna get us this time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Horton replied. “You know I’m really scared. But I’m going back in.”

Chunker put a hand on Horton’s shoulder and laughed a little. “We still gotta get all our candy we left in there. I’m not letting Abigail Tomlin have all that candy. No way!”

The others laughed a little at Chunker’s humor, even though the candy was the farthest thing from their minds. 

“Thanks for being my best friends, guys,” Horton said. 

Chunker pointed sharply at him. “No, you don’t! We’re getting back outta here, and you better believe that.” Though he didn’t sound as confident as would have liked. 

“I got a plan to get the children out,” Horton told them. 

The other two listened carefully as Horton explained his plan. 

“It’s suicide, but let’s do it!” Chapman said. 

“Yeah!” Chunker cheered. 

The boys took a deep breath before they scaled the wall again and dropped back into the cemetery. They ran in the direction of the children’s screaming. It wasn’t long before they saw the ghost of Abigail Tomlin floating near the kids. She had them backed against the mausoleum that was declared home base. Of course, she had no intention of honoring that part of Ghost in the Graveyard. 

“Hey, Abigail! Over here!” Chunker called out. 

“Leave them alone!” Chapman added. “It’s us you want, remember?”

Horton put his thumbs to his ears. “Nah! Nah! Nah! Nah! Nah! Nah!”

Abigail Tomlin immediately turned to them. “It’s time to come home, my children. You’ve been in the Mortal Realm long enough.”

As soon as she began floating towards them, Chunker called to the children, “GET OUTTA HERE! NOW!”

The boys saw the children move from the home base mausoleum and run to the wall. Arthur Tomlin couldn’t stop them as they helped each other to get up and over. The boys stood their ground as Abigail Tomlin continued closing the gap between herself and the boys. As they agreed, they would stand their ground until every last child had escaped. It was when the last one had scaled the wall that Abigail Tomlin had finally reached them. 

The boys never screamed as she touched all three of them to bring them into the Realm of the Dead. Now, Abigail Tomlin had finally claimed the three of them as her own. 

“You are finally home at last, my long-lost children. Now my son, Arthur, will not be so lonely.”

***

The families and friends of the boys and the children of those they saved searched Village Cemetery again and again. The only thing they turned up were the three pillowcases of candy. As far as Brian Chunk, Richie Horton, and Bill Chapman went, their bodies were never found. In fact, they were never found within the entire village of Strickfield. After several weeks of searching and an investigation, the boys were finally given up for lost. 

In fact, the three boys were never, ever seen again. 

However, if you’re foolhardily brave enough and you happen to drive into Strickfield, go to the bridge on Indian Hollow Road – the Cry Baby Bridge – at night. Just remain there for a while. When you feel the winds starting to blow, you might – just might – hear the cries of Brian Chunk, Richie Horton, and Bill Chapman calling out for help from beyond the Mortal Realm as we know it. 

And . . . you might even see the ghost of Abigail Tomlin who continues to haunt this region of Strickfield. 

Especially on Halloween Night!