Story and Art by: Mary Zoeller
The large orange jack-o-lantern sat on the top porch step of the small but very well-kept house. Garden flowers in a calliope of colors sat happily in the early morning sunshine, a slight breeze making their blooms nod. The house was a cottage style pale blue with darker blue trim. The windows were clean and sparkling. The porch held white wicker furniture with more flowers and ferns artfully strewn about. Even the brass mailbox was shining. A welcoming house by all measures. But that jack-o-lantern on the top porch step, I could have sworn, was leering at me.
At least that was my first reaction as I walked up the manicured steppingstones to the front door of this little home in my college town. I was a student at the local college and had a bunch of little jobs to make ends meet. This particular job was delivering news fliers for our city council. I’d wondered why they were doing this the old school way but didn’t really care if it meant I got to earn a little money for a stroll through some lovely neighborhoods.
You know how sometimes when you catch just a glimpse of something it can just startle you? I figured that’s what had happened with the pumpkin. It was earlyish in Fall for a carved pumpkin, but then, lots of people’s fave holiday was Halloween.
So, laughing at myself, up the steps of the yar house I went. I even stopped to admire the carving craftsmanship that had gone into the pumpkin. Another example of people’s amazing random skills.
I crossed the porch smelling the fragrance of some combination of mown grass and flowers. Just as I was turning from leaving the flier in the mailbox the front door gave a creak and started to open. I gave a jump and then, embarrassed, faced the door. There stood the loveliest older woman I had ever seen. She started to grin and then laugh. “You really need to cut back on the morning coffee kiddo,” she chided and then laughed a little more. “No doubt,” I said and did a little laugh of my own. She put her hand out to shake and introduced herself. “Trudy Layton, scariest homeowner ever.”, she said. Shaking her hand I said, “Lacey Blake, overly caffeinated student, as charged,’ and I laughed too. In the short time it took to explain what I was doing on her porch I noticed the heavenly scent of baking coming from her front door. Fresh bread, white chocolate almond scones, raisin oatmeal cookies: wasn’t sure which it was but it was clear a champion baker was at work this brisk September morning.
After smiling goodbyes, I was walking down the steps when Trudy asked, “You wouldn’t do me the favor of tasting my latest bake would you?” I turned and she smiled again and said, “I’m trying out a new recipe for scones I want to make for St Michael’s bake sale, and I really need another opinion. I think they’re good but I’m hardly impartial. Won’t take but a moment if you would,” she said hopefully.
I have never been one to turn down offered food especially baked goods that smelled that wonderful so, of course, I said yes.
Trudy’s house was amazing. Yes, it was modest in size, but everything inside was perfect. Not in the sense of having been staged or trendy or made ‘up-to-date’ the way so many houses appear. But supremely, thoughtfully designed for comfort, convenience and joy. I had never felt more welcomed into a space in my life. Original paintings, warm lighting, furniture that said, “Grab a book off the shelf and settle in here for a good read.” As we walked down the hall there was a windowed nook with a charming view of one of her side gardens. In the nook was a lovely antique wooden desk with a very up-to-date computer and comfy chair, well used by the look of it. We passed stairs on the same side as the work nook. The stairs were covered in the softest looking carpet I had ever seen. The dining room on the right had the same thoughtful comforting feel as the front room had. I was envisioning the wonderful parties Trudy must have had when we entered the kitchen.
I am fond of kitchens in general because, well, that’s where the food comes from, but this kitchen? Not only was it obviously a cook’s kitchen it was a kitchen that begged for company to come over. It ran the entire width of the back of the house. The wall facing the back had two windowed double French doors leading to a gracious deck. Glorious counter space with windows above wherever possible ran the perimeter of the room. Appliances were sleek stainless steel that were counter pointed by the warm wood of the cupboards and center island. The island had cushioned stools just waiting for a neighbor’s visit. The door to the dining room revealed a cunning bar room space between the two rooms. This kitchen was a room full of light.
On the counter were the scones that Trudy had been baking. She gathered one up on a plate with a dollop of clotted crème along the side. She sat me at the counter, served me a steaming cup of tea and expectantly laid the plate with the scone before me.
Such a simple meal, tea and a scone. But the way the tea enhanced the flavors of the scone, and vice versa, was so delicious it was indescribable, almost magical really.
When I told Trudy that, her face lit up with delight. She sat down with me, and we had a very pleasant little teatime though it was only 9:30 in the morning.
After that it was back to my regular life. I finished my deliveries and then I ran by my dorm room to pick up my computer. I needed to go to the library to do some research and to work on a paper that was due on Monday. Truthfully, I could have worked on my paper in my room but after being at Trudy’s that morning it just seemed so tiny and bleak. Also, my roommate was cranky and depressing. The only time they weren’t there was if they were at class or having a meal. It didn’t take much of an excuse for me to be out of the room normally. Being at Trudy’s had just emphasized even more how inhapitable the situation was for me.
The Fall season continued beautiful. Nights were crisp and cool warming into pleasant temps during the day. My classes were going fine though my interest in the subject matter seemed to be waning. I was beginning to wonder if I wanted to switch majors though wanting to be a psychologist had been my only reason for going to college in the first place.
So now I walked often as I thought about what was making me consider a change. I didn’t have a lot of friends to bounce things off of certainly. It had taken all my energy just enrolling and getting here with nothing left to spare for finding friends. The only way I could come to college anyway was because of my small inheritance from my father. He had passed away my senior year in high school of pancreatic cancer. I had taken a year off between high school and college just to get myself in some kind of working order. I wasn’t sure when I would quit missing my Pop so fiercely. So, more and more, I just walked and watched as the trees shed their summer greens in favor of the oranges, red and yellows of Fall. It was stunning to see those colors against the blue bowl of the sky.
One of my walks led me past Trudy’s house. I had been thinking about the really pleasant time I had spent with her, and I finally gave in to my yearning to revisit her and her home. She happened to be in the yard tending to her gardens that day. Happily she asked me in for a visit. I helped do a little weeding and pruning in exchange for another informal tea. She let me know the scones she had made for the St Michael’s bake sale, that I had taste-tested, had been a smash hit. She had been disappointed not to be able to go to the actual sale as she had been feeling a little puny and hadn’t wanted to expose anyone to possible germs.
Over the next couple of weeks Trudy and I spent more and more time together. It was pleasant and fun and, yes, the food was a major benefit but mostly being there with Trudy made me feel happy and content. I felt so drawn to her and her home, for some reason, and the rest of my life felt so very off-track.
Trudy was fast becoming a safe and happy harbor for me. And it turned out she was a huge fan of Halloween. It had been my father’s and my favorite holiday. We had always celebrated it all-out. Turned out Trudy’s house was the house that everyone would drive past to see the decorations. And every year everyone hoped to be invited to her super porch party. Of course, all trick treaters and their parents were welcome, so invites were not hard to come by.
Trudy had been planning and preparing for the event since early in the year. When she asked if I’d like to help her set-up decorations for a small stipend I jumped at the chance. The first time I arrived to assist in set-up my first duty was unpacking the many boxes that had arrived over the previous months. It was a blast as the boxes had all manner of fabulous decorations. The closer we got to the big day boxes of food related items started to arrive too. There were liqueurs, spices, nuts, dried fruit, decorative serving pieces and a host of things relating to food creation I had never laid eyes on. Those all went straight to Trudy’s domain in the kitchen.
My job was setting up the exterior and porch displays. This, of course, was all done to “Trudy’s Master Plan”. There were garlands with creepy flowers and skulls, lots of purple, orange and green lights, at least a dozen full size human skeletons, a huge dragon that belched ‘fire’ and smoke, an arch bedecked with more lights and faux thorny vines, scads of bats to hang in the trees, so many bags of cobwebs, a giant orange and black spider with ruby red eyes and fangs that dripped venom, along with attendant baby spiders that were not baby size! There was even a ten-foot T-Rex skeleton with glowing green eyes that trumpeted frighteningly.
After not to long, I was spending most of my time assembling displays and taste testing food and drink for Trudy’s extravaganza. The few people I knew and my studies were, in my mind, mere background noise. Heedlessly, I was all in for the upcoming event. All the neighborhood kids, and some of their parents, were too. I had lots of visitors while I assembled displays. I had even gotten to know most of the trick or treating age kids in the neighborhood. Rainy days were spent assembling ghouls and ghosties peeking out windows, setting up the sound system and occasionally getting to help Trudy in the kitchen. It felt wonderful to be learning to bake or cook some of the delicious things I had tried at Trudy’s. I even started to wonder if I might like to open a small café or bakery instead of pursuing my psychology degree.
Now we were days away from October 31st. It had always been expected that I was invited but, since the festivities usually lasted late, Trudy asked if I’d like to spend the night of Halloween at her house. She also asked if I’d like to act as co-host since I had spent so much time helping. I told her I’d be honored.
We quit early on October 30th and ordered in Indian food. We sat on the front porch and ate and enjoyed a glass, or two, of wine. Trudy was so happy at how everything looked, and she thanked me for all my hard work. Then she said, “I am c oncerned at all the time you’ve spent here. Aren’t your studies suffering? Really, I should have asked sooner but I do get caught up in all the Halloween excitement.”
She smiled guiltily at me. I reassured her and explained how stuck I’d been feeling with my previous life plans. I told her that spending time working with her had allowed me the time to think through what I’d really like to do with my life. She was relieved and I felt more relaxed than I had been in a very long time.
I walked back to my dorm room and enjoyed a rare evening there without my roommate. I had no idea where they were and cared even less. I packed my overnight bag, including my computer, and went to bed early. Tomorrow we would start final touches early and I wanted to be well rested so I could enjoy every moment.
It was cloudy and drizzling the next morning, a typical October day. Trudy was not at all fazed by the gloomy beginning to the day. She was of a mind that this would be a spectacular day regardless of the weather. Her mind set was catching.
We spent the day happily putting all the final touches in place, Trudy in the kitchen and me with the displays. We had a quick and tasty lunch where Trudy presented me with a costume she had had created just for me. That evening, as co-hosts, we were to be the witch sisters. Our costumes were well made and cut as traditional witch costumes including the pointed hats. The fabric was of fine stuff but was not the traditional black but rather beautiful swirls of soft colors. Mine was ocean blue’s and green’s, my favorite, and Trudy’s was fiery orange and yellow. I felt singularly happy.
The weather cleared as the evening approached. I teased Trudy about her earlier prescient calmness about the weather and we had a good laugh. After we dressed, Trudy and I toasted the beginning of the eve with her special Halloween drink. We started the spooky music, lit the jack-o-lantern candles, threw the switches and began welcoming trick-or-treaters.
The evening was full of swirling autumn leaves and the happy laughing smiles of our guests, young and old. The music played, the food was eaten, and, on a regular basis, Trudy would refresh my cup. My head began to swirl a bit with the leaves. I half-heartedly told Trudy ‘No’ a few times when she came round with the drinks pitcher. She gaily laughed and reminded me I was to stay the night and that enjoying life was the goal of the evening. And enjoy it everyone did.
Of course, the next morning I woke feeling a little less well than usual. I was a bit foggy on the end of the evening but felt it had been one of the most pleasant and happy eves I had ever spent. I finally decided to get up. By the look of the light, I had slept well into the day.
Things were quiet so Trudy must still be sleeping. Even my bones felt delicate this morning! My eyesight was a little blurry too. Not my usual hangover symptoms, but then, not my usual consumption of alcohol either, I thought to myself. The surprise came when I entered the bathroom.
When I opened the door to the bathroom, I saw Trudy. I apologized and shut the door. Something was not right. I knocked and opened the door again. There was Trudy but not Trudy. I was looking in the bathroom mirror. I did not see me. I saw Trudy. Tentatively I brushed my fingers across the mirror glass, still Trudy. This must be one of Trudy’s last Halloween surprises, I thought. I went looking for more mirrors. In every one of them an ashen faced Trudy with panicked eyes stared back at me.
After an exhaustive search I realized I was the only person in the house. So, I searched outside too: no Trudy. I decided to check with neighbors but when I tried to cross the street, I was unable to. I went to the side yard and tried to pass through the gardens, no luck. It was as if an invisible boundary was in place all along the property lines. Despite crazed days of trying, even to the point of climbing trees to see if I could cross amongst them, I found no secret escapes. When I checked the basement, I found previous tunnels that all ended at what I would assume were the boundaries of the property. I screamed at the neighbors. I ran at the boundaries only to bounce off. Any attempt to try and escape was simply and quietly absorbed by the boundary.
It took a very long time to calm down enough to notice the fat ivory colored envelope on the kitchen counter with my name on it. It was propped against Trudy’s favorite cookie jar. I stared at it for a very long time. I poked at it with a kitchen tool, afraid, by that point, to even touch anything that might have a trick attached to it. I made tea, sat on one of the kitchen stools and stared at it.
I did finally open it. It was from Trudy, of course. She opened by apologizing profusely for what she had done. She continued by explaining that the house had been magicked eons ago. It had been created as a prison. For whom, it was unclear. It could be escaped, but only by years and years of preparation and only via magic and cunning. My only way to escape would be by teaching myself the ways of magic and then by luring an unsuspecting young person into the same trap I had been lured into. The house would provide me with anything I wished for or needed. The neighbors would be able to speak, and visit with me, as long as I kept my ‘situation’ to myself.
The sooner I accepted what was, she wrote, the sooner I might be able to release myself. She also pointed out the joys of having unending sources of time and money to use educating and entertaining myself. I could change the house to my liking and pursue any endeavor that would fit within the confines of the boundary. Trudy had loved gardening, painting and cooking. I could make my own choices as I liked, she wrote. She finished by apologizing once again and saying how she had genuinely liked me. But what had to be done had been done and I would feel the same way in time.
Months went by, and they were all blurry. I only remember drinking to excess, exercising endlessly, trying over and over again to escape. There was a myriad of other self-destructive activities that helped not a whit. The house never let any of these activities harm me in any serious way. I always woke the next morning feeling, at least physically, just fine.
I found the library of books on Magic, Trudy, and other’s probably, had collected. I began to exhaustively read and take notes. Trudy’s state-of-the-art computer was full of more info on the subject and was a very convenient way to order whatever I needed and, for that matter, lots I just wanted.
All the neighbors were friendly and never made comment on my acting any differently than the Trudy they knew. Their interest in me, however, remained one that kept us at arm’s length, more of the boundaries doing, no doubt. I learned that if I wanted to have any human contact it would have to be done from afar. Just as Trudy had done with her baked goods for St Michaels.
It took years but I finally realized I had one choice as to how I could escape the house and that was the only way I could regain freedom. I would have to follow the rules as Trudy had set them out in her letter. I had, to my chagrin, adapted to my gilded cage.
So it was, that one very brisk and blustery Winter morning I woke with a clear mind. I took my cup of café au lait to the front porch and breathed in the crisp winter air. I sat in my very expensive and favorite chair with the heated cushions. After all I could afford the best as the house had no credit limit.
I would finish my coffee, make a delicious breakfast and then complete my daily exercise. My day was set, and I had the time. Today was the day I would begin to plan for next year’s Halloween.
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