Reaper

An old (true) story that inspired a prop...

Giving out candy on Halloween night for as long as I've been doing it has made me something of an observer.  I get to study how adults and children act when approaching my Haunt. If they're the type to pause and appreciate everything, or the sort that rushes up and away without hesitation and without looking back. There are the people that kneel down and study props, tapping lightly at the mache.  And the ones that get brushed with threads hanging down from the porch or trellis like thin spider webs and scream and run off before getting candy.  There are parents that get frustrated with their children who clearly are too terrified to walk onto the porch for candy.  And parents who love to sit back and watch their children slowly approaching the Haunt, with huge proud smiles.

Back when I gave out candy at my parents' house in the old neighborhood, I saw children grow up - going from trick-or-treater to parent.  That was the most peculiar feeling.  I'd see a young man carrying his own child, and I remembered when he was too scared to come up for candy. Crazy.

Then there was something else - Death.  There was a cloaked figure that walked slowly around the neighborhood.  A black hooded cloak, the deluxe variety, and a rubber skull mask.  I'm assuming it was an adult male based on the height and build.  I'm not exaggerating or embellishing in any way - I saw him every single year and had seen him for as far back as I could remember.  I don't know if it was the same guy or maybe a few guys over the years.  But there was always just the one lonely figure, keeping to himself and not stopping at houses for candy.  He was in character too, with a strange slow walk, like a one-man funeral procession.

It's a neat concept, an adult who never gave up on Halloween.  Keeps a cloak and a mask in a drawer or closet all year long. On Halloween night, he leaves work early, has dinner, puts a bowl of candy out on the porch with a "Help Yourself" sign, and then dons a rich dark cloak and an old, tattered latex mask, the kind that smells like new sneakers.  I bet he was smiling under there the whole time.

Or maybe it really was Death.