The Confections

The darkness moved in quickly, as the scurrying began.

The horde, moved skillfully from this side to that, some north to south, others south to north. They all moved with precision, corralling the younger ones, teaching technique with words and actions.

The scripted words were stated loud and properly. Each adult appreciated the polite acknowledgments that were spoken.

The tall followers waited in the street, dodging a running princess or Teletubby from time to time. Some flashed faster moving cars with a beam from a flashlight that said be careful, slow down and remember what night it is.

A decorated baby or pet was held in one arm sometimes as the buckets and bowls began to lose their weight and sustenance to the nearly never ending patrons.

The cold forced some costumes to be stuffed rather tightly with a child and his or her layered garments.

One small boy wanted his orange bucket to remain light, and he handed each morsel earned to his mother regularly. His plan unknowingly prompted an extra treat being dropped in by the homeowners who noticed a cavernous and empty plastic pumpkin.

The occasional ATV or garden tractor driven hayride moved slowly by, stopping to drop off its masses, so they may run from door to door.
The driver counted the charges before moving on down the road. When the vehicle stopped, the riders exited and moved like a school of fish to the next lighted porch, licking their lips, and glancing down to see if their containers could hold more confections.

This visual phenomenon only happens once a year, and the comments from one boy said it all. "I want to do this again tomorrow, and the next day." The yearly event taught the young man about politeness, as he asked his mother to hand him his goodies so he could dump them out in the middle of his grandmothers family room. He said, "Thank you mom for holding my treats, my pumpkin was getting heavy." He then began to sort out the items, tossing an occasional inedible gift by the wayside, saying, "I can't eat this."