It was a dark and windy night
Grandad November 1st, 2007
There was a loud knock on the door last night.
We don’t get may kids coming around here at Halloween because they have learned their lesson in the past. So I was a bit surprised.
I opened the door, and there was a very tall figure there. He was taller than me, and I’m over six foot. He was dressed all in black with a hood over his face.
I hate hoodies.
“What the f*ck do you want?” says I.
“I have come for you” he said. He had a strange voice. It echoed around inside my head and made me feel uncomfortable.
“You can p*ss off” says I. “You interrupted me in the middle of a good book and I’m not going anywhere”
“Who is it?” yells Herself from the kitchen.
“Some tosser looking for apples, or something”
“Tell him to p*ss off”
“I did, but he’s still here”
Herself came shooting out of the kitchen, frying pan in hand. It never ceases to amaze me how fast she can move when she has the bile up. She shot out the door. There was a loud clang, and a louder yell. I nearly felt sorry for him.
“Is he gone?” says I.
“I don’t know” says Herself. “He just sort of crumpled on the ground. I think I killed him”
“Fair play” says I. “I’ll get the lamp”
We went out by lamplight, and there was the cloak on the ground. No sign of the bloke, which was strange. Even stranger, there was an old scythe lying beside the cloak. I took it inside. It was very old, but with a bit of cleaning it should be OK. It will come in handy next summer when the grass starts growing again.
“I love it when you’re angry” says I to Herself.
She gave me a dirty look and went back into the kitchen.
Subscribe to audio
