Epic detectives

She had on her long black witch’s dress and some makeup that I thought made her look more beautiful than frightening. Mr. Owen was carrying a paper-wrapped bundle. He took his arm from around Mama’s shoulders when he saw me there, and Mama tucked a couple of strands of loose hair behind her ear with a trembling hand. Her eyes were red, and she came over and hugged me. She stepped back then and put her hands along the sides of my face. She looked into my eyes for a long time. “Mama,” I gasped, holding out the lighter...

“Shel?” Mama said quietly into the phone. “Harry’s gone again — a week this time... No, I don’t think so. He’s left before, but he always comes back after a week or so, when he gets tired of his little escapade.... I know, but that doesn’t mean anything. Any minute now, he’ll come marching through the door, wanting something to eat. I suppose we’ll have to figure something out about the job, though.... I know you will. I just wanted you to know why I’ll be a little late today... I know you do. Thanks...

When I was a little girl, I loved to be scared. Now, when crimson and gold leaves rain from the maples and birches here in North Carolina to layer the ground, I’m sometimes a bit sorry that I’ve become too jaded to be really frightened anymore. Then I remember the last Halloween I spent back in Willowsburg, the year I turned fourteen. And I remember why I don’t like to be scared anymore. We wore rough paper and cloth masks then, not rubber or vinyl. Homemade demons and evil spirits roamed the streets at night, hoping for nothing more than a good clean scare...