All Hallow Even

                                          ALL HALL0W EVEN




      Charlie tugged at the white bed sheet until he managed to line up his eyes with the holes his grandmother had cut in the sheet. He had wanted to go as Luke Skywalker, but his grandmother had convinced him to be a ghost. Charlie slowly made his way down the hall to the dining room. His grandfather was hunched over the jack-o’—lantern, trimming a sliver from the corner of the eye with his pocketknife. He’d worked on the jack—o’—lantern all afternoon.

“Can we go trick or treating now, granddaddy?”

“Just a minute.”

“How long have you had that knife, granddaddy?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Charlie, a long time.”

“Why don’t you get a new one?

“Because, there’s nothing wrong with this one.”

Charlie watched his grandfather carefully wipe the knife with a rag before he closed it and dropped it in his pocket.

“Can we go now, granddaddy?”

“Yes, just let me get my jacket.”

Charlie’s grandfather went down the hall toward his bedroom, he came back wearing a light brown jacket and carrying a silver colored, aluminum flashlight. They walked out the front door into the cool, October night.

“Which way?” Charlie asked.

“Let’s go to Sanders' first, I need to talk to him.”

They walked across the yard to the house next door. Nicole opened the door. She was dressed as a princess. Her father was standing next to her.

“Trick or treat,” Charlie said.

“Is that you, Charlie?” Nicole asked.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know you were up here.”

“Yeah, my dad brought me up yesterday.”

Nicole picked up the tray of candy and dumped it all in Charlie’s bag. Charlie waited for the grownups to say something but they weren’t paying attention. Charlie realized his grandfather was speaking in the tight voice he sometimes used on the phone.

“Do you want it or not?” Sanders asked.

“Not for what you’re asking.”

“Well, what will you give me for it?”

“I’ll give you five.”

“It’s worth at least eight.”

“In your dreams.”

“I tell you what, since we’re neighbors and all, I’ll let you have it for seven.”

“I’ll think about it. Come on, Charlie.”

“Bye,” Nicole said.

“Bye.”

Charlie followed his grandfather down the Sanders' sidewalk toward the street.

“Granddaddy, is Sanders mad at you?”

“You need to call him Mister Sanders, Charlie, not just Sanders.”

“Why?”

“Because, it’s disrespectful.”

“But you call him Sanders."

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“Well, is Mister Sanders mad at you?”

“No.”

“He sure sounded mad to me.”

“That was just business, Charlie.”

“Oh.”

They went to every house on the street, but all the other
candy combined, didn’t equal the haul from the Sanders. Charlie was silently wishing his grandfather would make Sanders mad more often when he heard the click of his grandfather’s lighter.

“Granddaddy, why do you smoke?”

“Because, I want to.”

“Don’t you know smoking is bad for you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know that when I started."

“Why don’t you stop?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I smoke when I grow up?”

"No you may not."

“Why not?”

“Because, I said so.”

They walked up the steps onto the front porch. Charlie’s grandmother opened the door.

“Oh no,” she said, “it’s a ghost.”

“Look, grand mommy, look at all the candy I got.”

“Oh my, there’s no way you can eat all that.”

“You wanna bet?”






Charlie’s grandmother was tucking him into bed. She smelled of cold cream and mouthwash.

“Can I have the jack-o’-lantern in here tonight?" Charlie asked.

“You mean lit?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. Charlie.”

“Please,” Charlie said, “please, please.”

“I’ll see what granddaddy thinks.”

She bent over and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Charlie."

“Good night.”

A few minutes later, Charlie’s grandfather came in the room; he was shirtless and carrying the Jack-o’-lantern in front of his ample stomach. He sat the Jack-o’—lantern down on the old oak desk. He lit the jack-o’-lantern and walked over to the bed to tell Charlie good night. Charlie caught the familiar smell of cigarettes and bourbon.

“Good night, Charlie.”

“Good night granddaddy.”

Charlie’s grandfather bent down to turn the lamp off. Charlie saw a scar across his stomach he’d never noticed before. Charlie reached up and traced the scar with his finger.

“How’d you get that?” he asked.

“I got hit by a piece of shrapnel in the war.”

“What’s that?”

“Shrapnel?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a piece of metal from a bomb.”

“Oh. Was that a long time ago?”

"Yes."

"Did you kill anybody?”

"I don’t know, Charlie. As I said, it was a long time ago.

“How long ago was it?”

“Almost forty years.”

“Whoa, that’s a really, really long time.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Did you ever kill anybody,” Charlie asked again.

His grandfather looked at him for a moment. “Yes,” he
said, “I killed three men that I know of. There were probably others, a soldier doesn’t always know.”

“Were you really, really mad at them?”

“No, Charlie, I didn’t even know them.”

“Then why did you kill them?”

“Because they were trying to kill me.”

Charlie lay in stunned silence. He couldn’t believe
anyone would want to hurt his grandfather. Didn’t they know his grandfather was the kindest, sweetest man in the world?

“Well, good night, Charlie”

“Granddaddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to bed?”

“In a little while.”

“Are you going to listen to the news first?”

"Probably."

“Why don’t you just watch the news on TV?”

“It’s not the same."

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it just isn’t.”

“Are they going to talk about the Russians?”

“Probably.”

"Are the Russians evil, granddaddy?”

“No, Charlie. The Russian people aren't evil, but communism is evil."

“Are they as evil as Darth Vader”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t we stop them?”

“We’re trying to, Charlie.”

Charlie’s grandfather turned the lamp off and walked to the door. “Good night," he said.

“Good night, granddaddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

Charlie lay in bed and watched the jack-O’-lantern flickering on the wall. He could just make out the clipped British voice coming from his grandfather’s old shortwave set. He drifted off to sleep thinking of what Luke Skywalker would do to the communists.