OCTOBER 27, 1967
Halloween - Werewolves Or Mod Apples
It was another Halloween and another church party. The night was damp and cool with heavy clouds hanging near the earth half covering the full yellow moon. I shuddered and suddenly wondered why I dreaded walking home alone.
As I began walking, a strange howling noise, half-animal and half-human, filtered across the field through the heavy air and penetrated my being.
The whine sent my heart thudding, and my imagination began to run wild. In the trees I saw bright eyes gleaming at me when it was only the light of the moon dancing between dry leaves.
From somewhere out of the tall grass came another sound. This time it was a low moan followed by the crunch of crisp grass as if something were being dragged. My feet pushed onward.
Suddenly there was damp grass in my face, hard ground under my stomach, and a sharp pain in my foot. From somewhere before my face came another agonized cry. In the moon's pale light I could discern my own face! I screamed and began running. Only when I was safely home with the door locked did I dare to turn around.
The next morning I was awakened by dawn's eerie light and the desire to find out what had frightened me. Resolutely I set out to retrace my path, half-knowing what I would find.
During the reading of the last three paragraphs of this fable, kindly darken the room or study hall to the legal limit to heighten the terror of the breathtaking climax, which takes place in nearly total darkness itself.
It was a dank day in October (namely the thirty-first), and Andrew the pumpkin (who was really an over-ripe apple) was slightly disgusted. Halloween was fast becoming a holiday for greedy children and was dreaded by no-nonsense grown-ups.
Where was the real spirit of Halloween? Couldn't anyone just enjoy it for what it was secret hangings, premature burials, dripping blood, and other traditional delights.
Andrew felt cheated out of all the fun so he decided to make a little honky-tonk on this night of all nights. Around 10 p.m. he wobbled over to "The Garden" to dig up some action. The wind walloped through the corn silks, hissing and shrieking.
On the third shriek and possibly the fourteenth hiss, Andrew froze in his tracks. Two corn husks were approaching!
"Look at that ugly pumpkin who looks like an apple," snickered the tallest. "Let's roll him over to Witch's Gully and give him an old-fashioned Halloween."
Andrew began to think of mother and apple pie and suddenly didn't want an old-fashioned Halloween. He frantically fought his way back to the safety of the streets. There he was adopted by a greedy child with no-nonsense parents and lived happily ever after.