🎃 A Night to Remember

Author's Note

This Halloween bonus chapter takes place outside the precise chronology of Where the Forgotten Wait. It's a chance for the Bellweather crew to enjoy a holiday together, without worrying about exactly how much time has passed since everyone returned.

Some nights are meant for solving mysteries.

This one is meant for making memories.

By six o'clock on Halloween evening, downtown Bellweather had completely lost its mind.

In the best possible way.

Orange and purple lights stretched between buildings. Artificial cobwebs hung from lampposts. Pumpkins lined storefront windows, enormous inflatable ghosts swayed above rooftops, and somewhere near the town square, a fog machine was producing enough smoke to convince several concerned citizens that something was on fire.

Music thundered through the streets.

Children shrieked with laughter.

Food trucks lined three blocks, filling the air with the smell of fried dough, barbecue, caramel, cinnamon, and enough sugar to keep the town's dentists employed until Christmas.

A DJ was already encouraging people to dance in the middle of Main Street.

And standing at the edge of it all, wearing an elaborate Medusa costume, Morgan Bennett was beginning to suspect that bringing this particular group of people into a crowded festival had been a spectacular mistake.

"Absolutely not."

DC Carter looked down at her.

"What?"

"The eyeliner."

He blinked.

"What about it?"

"You're enjoying it."

"I'm a pirate."

"You're enjoying it too much."

DC adjusted the sword hanging from his belt.

"You're just jealous because I look good."

Morgan slowly turned toward him.

The snakes woven through her dark hair shifted with the movement.

"DC."

"Morgan."

"You look like you spent forty minutes staring into a mirror trying to perfect your mysterious pirate expression."

"Thirty."

She stared.

He grinned.

"Maybe thirty-five."

Richard Carter, standing beside them in a magnificent purple wizard costume, made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

"Boy, I told you that eyeliner was going to be a problem."

DC looked at his grandfather.

"You're wearing a purple robe with stars on it."

"And?"

"And you've got a wooden staff."

Richard lifted it proudly.

"A wizard requires a staff."

"That thing came from a costume shop."

"A wizard does not reveal his sources."

Morgan burst out laughing.

"He's got you there."

DC shook his head.

"I can't believe I'm related to you."

Richard smiled.

"You're welcome."

Behind them, Margaret Bell emerged from the parking area wearing a chupacabra costume so unsettling that a passing teenager immediately grabbed his friend's arm.

"What the hell is THAT?"

Margaret turned.

Slowly.

The teenager screamed.

Margaret threw back her head and laughed.

"Oh, this is going to be a wonderful evening."

Rose Mercer, dressed as a solar eclipse, looked at her.

"Margaret, we haven't even entered the festival."

"And I've already made someone's night memorable."

"Traumatic," Old Thomas corrected.

He stood beside Rose wearing an enormous black Grim Reaper costume, complete with skeletal wings that extended behind his shoulders.

Margaret waved a clawed hand.

"Details."

Young Thomas, meanwhile, looked like he'd escaped from a laboratory where someone had made the unfortunate decision to combine Victorian medicine with advanced machinery.

His mechanical plague doctor mask glowed with cyan lights. Small metallic details decorated his coat, and the lenses of his mask illuminated whenever he turned his head.

Clara circled him appreciatively.

"Okay, yours is actually terrifying."

Young Thomas inclined his beaked mask.

"Thank you."

"Not a compliment."

"I accepted it as one."

Kiara, wearing a dragon princess costume, stepped forward and examined the mechanical details.

"Does the mask have a ventilation system?"

Young Thomas paused.

"Yes."

"Good. Because otherwise you'd probably overheat in there."

Old Thomas looked down at her.

"You're seven."

Kiara looked up.

"And?"

Richard laughed so hard he nearly dropped his staff.

"She's got you there, Thomas."

Both Thomases turned.

"What?" they asked together.

There was a moment of silence.

Then DC started laughing.

"Oh, this is going to be a long night."

Rose sighed.

"Try growing up with one of them."

Young Thomas looked at her.

"Technically, you did."

"Don't start."

Old Thomas folded his arms.

"We have the same memories."

"Yes," Rose said, pointing between them, "and somehow you've managed to become twice as exhausting."

Morgan smiled.

"All right. Everybody ready?"

Margaret was already walking away.

"Margaret!"

"I'm going to find something to frighten!"

"That is not an activity!"

"It is tonight!"

And with that, Halloween officially began.

The Parade of Questionable Decisions

The first thing the group encountered was the Halloween parade.

The second thing they encountered was Margaret attempting to join it.

A marching band was making its way down Main Street, followed by decorated floats, dancers dressed as skeletons, a group of witches performing synchronized choreography, and an enormous papier-mâché pumpkin being pulled behind a tractor.

Margaret watched the procession with growing interest.

Rose noticed.

"No."

Margaret looked offended.

"I haven't said anything."

"You have that expression."

"What expression?"

"The one you get before you do something ridiculous."

Margaret considered that.

Then she stepped directly into the parade.

"Margaret!"

Too late.

The chupacabra had joined a group of dancing skeletons.

For several glorious seconds, nobody seemed to notice.

Then one skeleton turned around.

Margaret lunged.

The skeleton shrieked.

The crowd erupted in laughter.

The marching band continued playing.

And Margaret, apparently deciding that she was now an official participant, began dancing.

Richard doubled over.

"Oh, she's lost her mind."

"Lost?" DC asked. "Was there ever any doubt?"

A parade volunteer hurried over.

"Ma'am! Ma'am, you can't just—"

Margaret turned toward him.

He stopped.

She tilted her monstrous head.

He took one step backward.

Margaret raised both claws.

The volunteer looked toward the crowd, which was cheering enthusiastically.

Then he sighed.

"Fine. Just stay behind the dancers."

Margaret gave him a thumbs-up.

Rose covered her face.

"I don't know her."

Old Thomas nodded solemnly.

"Neither do I."

Young Thomas watched Margaret dance past.

"I believe she's enjoying herself."

Clara stared at him.

"You think?"

Kiara was laughing so hard she had to hold onto Morgan's arm.

"She's actually in the parade!"

Morgan shook her head.

"We're never getting her back."

DC leaned closer.

"Want me to go get her?"

Morgan looked at the six-foot pirate beside her.

"Against a chupacabra who's having the time of her life?"

He considered that.

"Fair point."

Bartholomew the Magnificent

By the time Margaret returned, the group had discovered the carnival games.

And Old Thomas had discovered a stuffed bat.

It was tiny.

Black.

Round.

With enormous purple ears and a permanently bewildered expression.

It hung from the prize rack above a ring-toss booth.

Old Thomas stopped walking.

Rose followed his gaze.

"No."

"I haven't said anything."

"You don't need to."

Old Thomas pointed.

"I want that."

Rose looked at the bat.

Then at her brother.

Then at the bat again.

"You're dressed as Death."

"Yes."

"With enormous skeletal wings."

"Correct."

"And you want a stuffed bat."

"His name is Bartholomew."

Young Thomas leaned forward.

"An excellent name."

Rose closed her eyes.

"Of course you agree."

The booth attendant smiled.

"Three rings for five dollars!"

Old Thomas paid.

He missed all three.

Richard whistled.

"Impressive."

Old Thomas glared.

"Would you like to try?"

"Gladly."

Richard paid.

He missed all three.

DC laughed.

"Wow. Both of you."

Richard pointed his staff at him.

"Careful."

DC stepped forward.

"Watch a professional."

Morgan folded her arms.

"Oh, this should be good."

DC tossed his first ring.

Missed.

Second.

Missed.

Third.

The ring bounced off a bottle, struck another, and landed on the ground.

Morgan stared at him.

"Professional what?"

DC looked at the bottles.

"They're crooked."

The attendant glanced down.

"They're not."

Morgan laughed.

"Even the employee disagrees with you."

Clara stepped forward.

"Move."

She paid, took her rings, and landed one perfectly around a bottle.

The group erupted.

"YES!" Kiara shouted.

Clara lifted both hands.

"Thank you. Thank you."

The attendant retrieved a small prize.

Old Thomas leaned forward.

"Can she choose the bat?"

The attendant checked the prize chart.

"That one's for three wins."

Old Thomas looked personally betrayed.

Young Thomas quietly purchased another round.

Then another.

And another.

Rose watched the growing collection of unsuccessful rings.

"How much money are you two planning to spend on a stuffed animal?"

Old Thomas didn't look at her.

"Whatever is necessary."

Young Thomas nodded.

"Agreed."

Morgan leaned toward DC.

"They're going to bankrupt themselves."

DC smiled.

"Over a bat named Bartholomew."

Twenty minutes later, through a combination of determination, luck, and Clara's superior aim, Old Thomas finally received his prize.

He held the tiny bat carefully in one skeletal-gloved hand.

Rose stared.

"Happy?"

Old Thomas looked down at Bartholomew.

"Immensely."

Young Thomas leaned closer.

"He's magnificent."

Richard shook his head.

"Two grown men."

Old Thomas looked up.

"Would you like to hold him?"

Richard hesitated.

"...Yes."

Morgan nearly fell over laughing.

The Great Pumpkin Bowling Disaster

The pumpkin-bowling booth was Richard's idea.

That should have been everyone's first warning.

The game involved rolling small pumpkins toward wooden pins decorated like ghosts.

Richard studied the setup.

"Easy."

DC sighed.

"Granddad."

"What?"

"Please don't turn this into a competition."

Richard looked genuinely confused.

"Then why are there scores?"

Morgan pointed at DC.

"He's got a point."

"Do not encourage him."

Richard stepped forward.

The attendant handed him a pumpkin.

He weighed it in his palm.

Adjusted his stance.

Rolled.

The pumpkin curved sharply left.

Missed every pin.

And struck the side of the booth.

Silence.

Then Kiara said, very clearly, "That was terrible."

DC lost it.

Richard stared at the pumpkin.

"That one was defective."

The attendant blinked.

"It's a pumpkin."

"Exactly."

Morgan covered her mouth.

Richard reached for another pumpkin, but something about the wooden pins caught his attention.

He paused.

For a moment, the festival around him seemed to fade.

He remembered a backyard. A warm afternoon. A row of empty cans balanced on an old wooden board.

And a little boy who couldn't have been more than seven, standing several feet away with a ball clutched in both hands.

Anthony.

His son.

"Dad, they're too far!"

"They're not too far. You're just trying to throw it through the fence."

"I am not!"

Richard could still hear himself laughing.

"All right, then. Show me."

Anthony had thrown the ball with all his might.

Missed every can.

And immediately announced that the ball was crooked.

Richard's breath caught.

The ball was crooked.

He remembered laughing so hard he'd had to sit down. Remembered Anthony marching over to inspect the ball as though he genuinely expected to find something wrong with it.

And then another memory surfaced.

A different afternoon.

The same backyard.

Anthony was older now, standing beside a much younger DC, who was enthusiastically attempting to knock over those same cans.

Richard had been there.

All three of them.

He remembered Anthony laughing when DC missed.

Remembered DC insisting he wanted another turn.

Remembered the sound of those cans finally crashing to the ground.

"Granddad?"

Richard blinked.

DC was watching him.

"You good?"

Richard looked at his grandson.

For a second, he could almost see that little boy in the backyard again.

Then he smiled.

"Yeah."

DC raised an eyebrow.

"You sure? Because you looked like you were about to declare war on that pumpkin."

Richard chuckled.

"Just remembered something."

"What?"

Richard glanced toward the wooden pins.

"Your dad used to blame the ball when he missed, too."

DC stared at him.

Then slowly grinned.

"Seriously?"

"Oh, absolutely. Swore up and down there was something wrong with it."

DC started laughing.

"Well, now I know where I get it."

Richard shook his head.

"Apparently, it's hereditary."

Morgan looked between them.

"Wait. So blaming the equipment is a Carter family tradition?"

Richard pointed at her.

"Don't start."

DC laughed harder.

"Too late."

Richard looked back at the pins, a small smile lingering on his face.

He hadn't thought about those afternoons in years.

But now he could remember them.

Clear as day.

And somehow, standing in the middle of a ridiculous Halloween pumpkin-bowling booth, that felt pretty wonderful.

Clara stepped up next.

She knocked down four pins.

Young Thomas managed six.

Rose knocked down seven.

Margaret somehow knocked down eight while wearing enormous clawed gloves.

Richard stared at her.

"How?"

Margaret shrugged.

"Natural talent."

Old Thomas rolled his pumpkin.

It struck the first pin, bounced sideways, and knocked down the rest in a spectacular chain reaction.

The attendant rang a bell.

"Strike!"

Old Thomas raised Bartholomew triumphantly.

The crowd cheered.

Young Thomas applauded.

Rose stared at the pins.

"That was ridiculous."

Old Thomas looked delighted.

"I believe Bartholomew brought me luck."

Richard pointed.

"That bat wasn't even involved!"

DC stepped up.

"All right. Let me show you how it's done."

Morgan smiled.

"Didn't you say that at ring toss?"

He ignored her.

Rolled.

Nine pins fell.

One remained.

Richard grinned.

"Almost."

DC stared at the final pin.

Morgan leaned closer.

"So close, Captain Eyeliner."

He turned.

"You're enjoying this."

"More than you know."

Kiara took her turn last.

She rolled carefully.

The pumpkin traveled slowly down the lane.

Very slowly.

Everyone watched.

It struck the pins.

All ten fell.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Kiara threw both arms into the air.

"YES!"

Clara screamed.

Richard stared in disbelief.

DC dropped his head.

Morgan laughed so hard her snakes shook.

Kiara turned toward the group.

"I believe that makes me the champion."

Old Thomas bowed.

"Your Majesty."

Young Thomas followed suit.

Richard looked at the attendant.

"I demand a rematch."

The attendant smiled.

"Five dollars."

Rose grabbed Richard's sleeve.

"Absolutely not."

The Haunted House Makes a Mistake

The haunted attraction occupied an old storefront near the square.

A painted sign promised:

ENTER IF YOU DARE.

Margaret read it.

Smiled.

Rose immediately became suspicious.

"No."

Margaret sighed.

"You really must stop saying that."

Inside, the attraction was filled with flickering lights, fake cobwebs, rattling chains, and actors waiting behind curtains.

The first actor leaped out wearing a grotesque mask.

"RAAAAH!"

Kiara blinked.

"Nice costume."

The actor paused.

"Uh... thanks?"

Clara grinned.

"She's hard to impress."

The next room contained a mechanical skeleton that lunged from a coffin.

Richard jumped.

DC saw it.

"Oh, that's beautiful."

"I did not jump."

"You absolutely jumped."

"The floor moved."

Morgan looked down.

"The floor is concrete."

"Then the building moved."

They continued.

In the third room, an actor dressed as a deranged doctor stepped from behind a curtain.

Then he saw Young Thomas.

The actor froze.

Young Thomas tilted his glowing mechanical mask.

The actor slowly stepped backward.

"...That's a really good costume."

"Thank you."

The actor looked at Old Thomas.

Then at Margaret.

Then at the enormous skeletal wings.

"Are you guys part of the attraction?"

Margaret smiled beneath her mask.

"Would you like us to be?"

The actor hesitated.

"No, thank you."

And retreated behind his curtain.

DC started laughing.

"We're scaring the employees."

Old Thomas looked pleased.

"An unexpected achievement."

Near the exit, Margaret finally found her opportunity.

An actor dressed as a zombie lurched toward the group.

Margaret lurched back.

The zombie stopped.

Margaret hissed.

The zombie made a startled noise.

Margaret lunged.

The zombie screamed and ran behind a curtain.

Rose stared after him.

"Margaret."

"What?"

"That poor man is working."

"He startled me first."

"You were waiting for him!"

Margaret shrugged.

"Occupational hazard."

By the time they exited, the attraction's manager was laughing too hard to be properly annoyed.

"Please tell me you're entering the costume contest."

Margaret raised her claws.

"Oh, absolutely."

Dragons, Witches, and Inflatable Regrets

The inflatable obstacle course was enormous.

Bright orange tunnels.

Purple climbing walls.

A giant dragon head at the entrance.

And a slide that looked considerably taller from the ground than it had in the promotional photographs.

Kiara stared at it.

Clara stared at it.

Then they looked at each other.

"Race?" Clara asked.

Kiara smiled.

"You're going to lose."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

Morgan watched them sprint toward the entrance.

"Well, that's settled."

DC glanced at the obstacle course.

"Looks fun."

Morgan slowly turned.

"No."

"What?"

"Don't."

"I haven't done anything."

"You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that usually ends with somebody getting embarrassed."

DC smiled.

"You think I'd lose?"

"I think you're six feet tall and dressed as a pirate."

"And?"

"And I think that slide would humble you."

Richard stepped forward.

"I could do it."

Everyone turned.

Rose looked at him.

"Richard."

"What?"

"Please remember you're wearing a wizard robe."

Richard examined the inflatable.

"I've handled worse."

Young Thomas nodded thoughtfully.

"I would be interested in attempting it."

Old Thomas looked at his skeletal wings.

"I suspect I'm structurally disadvantaged."

Clara called from the entrance.

"ARE YOU ALL COMING OR WHAT?"

Five minutes later, after the attendant confirmed which costumes and accessories could safely enter, the race began.

Clara shot through the first tunnel.

Kiara followed, laughing.

DC entered behind them.

Immediately got tangled in his coat.

Morgan laughed from outside.

"HOW'S THAT PIRATE LIFE TREATING YOU?"

"FANTASTIC!"

Richard attempted the climbing wall.

His robe caught beneath his knee.

"WHO DESIGNED THIS THING?"

A nearby child shouted, "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO CLIMB!"

"I KNOW THAT!"

Young Thomas, having removed his mask and mechanical accessories, moved through the course with surprising efficiency.

Clara reached the top of the slide.

Kiara appeared beside her.

They launched themselves down together.

Both landed in a heap of laughter.

DC emerged seconds later.

Richard came down sideways.

And somehow managed to lose his wizard hat.

The crowd applauded.

Morgan was bent over laughing.

Richard stood up, retrieved his hat, and pointed at her.

"Not. One. Word."

Morgan wiped her eyes.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

DC stepped beside her.

"You're literally crying."

"Because your grandfather just got defeated by an inflatable dragon!"

Richard adjusted his hat.

"I demand a rematch."

Rose appeared behind him.

"No."

The Scavenger Hunt Nobody Took Seriously

The festival's Halloween scavenger hunt sounded simple.

Find ten hidden symbols scattered throughout downtown.

Collect the matching stamps.

Return before nine o'clock.

Win a prize.

Simple.

Until Richard announced they should divide into teams.

"Why?" Morgan asked.

"Competition."

"Of course."

The teams formed amid immediate objections, negotiations, and accusations of unfairness.

Rose ended up with Old Thomas and Young Thomas.

Richard paired with Clara and Kiara.

Morgan, DC, and Margaret formed the final team.

Morgan looked at Margaret.

"Are you going to help us find clues?"

"Certainly."

"Without frightening anyone?"

Margaret paused.

"...Define frightening."

DC sighed.

"We're doomed."

The first clue sent Morgan's team toward a pumpkin display.

They found the symbol immediately.

The second led them to a decorated bookstore window.

The third required identifying a carved raven hidden among dozens of decorations.

Margaret spotted it.

"Found it!"

Morgan smiled.

"See? Teamwork."

Margaret turned toward a passing couple.

"BOO!"

The couple shrieked.

Morgan closed her eyes.

"Margaret."

"What? I found the raven first."

Across town, Richard was arguing with a clue.

"This makes no sense."

Clara read it.

"It says to find the place where monsters get their sweets."

Kiara pointed across the street.

"The candy shop."

Richard stared.

"...Right."

Kiara sighed.

"You're making this harder than it needs to be."

Meanwhile, Rose had discovered that having two Thomases with identical childhood memories did not mean they agreed on how to solve a scavenger hunt.

"The clue says 'where the past is preserved,'" Old Thomas said.

"The historical society," Young Thomas replied.

"The museum," Old Thomas countered.

Rose looked between them.

"Those are the same building."

Both paused.

Then turned toward her.

"Right."

Rose threw up her hands.

"Unbelievable."

By the time everyone returned, Richard's team had won.

Mostly because Kiara solved nearly every clue.

Richard accepted the prize with enormous dignity.

"I knew we'd win."

Clara stared at him.

"You spent fifteen minutes arguing with a pumpkin."

"A tactical discussion."

Kiara folded her arms.

"I carried this team."

Nobody disagreed.

Dinner, Dessert, and Absolutely No Manners

By eight-thirty, everyone was hungry.

Very hungry.

The food trucks were doing extraordinary business.

Morgan ordered loaded fries.

DC got barbecue.

Richard acquired a sandwich large enough to require both hands.

Rose chose something sensible.

Margaret ordered enough fried food to concern the vendor.

Clara wanted tacos.

Kiara wanted chicken tenders.

The Thomases spent several minutes debating which food truck smelled best before eventually ordering from two different ones.

They found a collection of picnic tables beneath strings of orange lights.

For approximately thirty seconds, everyone ate peacefully.

Then DC reached toward Morgan's fries.

She slapped his hand.

"Excuse you."

"I was getting one."

"With whose permission?"

He smiled.

"I thought we were sharing."

"We are not."

"You took some of my barbecue."

"That was different."

"How?"

"I asked."

"You said, 'That looks good,' and took a piece."

"Exactly. Communication."

Richard nearly choked laughing.

DC shook his head.

"You're impossible."

Morgan stole another piece of barbecue.

"And yet you're still sitting here."

He leaned back.

"Because somebody has to supervise you."

She smiled sweetly.

"Keep talking, Captain Eyeliner."

Across the table, Old Thomas was carefully positioning Bartholomew beside his plate.

Rose stared.

"You're feeding the bat now?"

"No."

"Then why does he have a napkin?"

Old Thomas looked offended.

"Because we're civilized."

Young Thomas nodded.

"Proper table manners are important."

Richard pointed at them.

"That is a stuffed animal."

Old Thomas turned Bartholomew toward him.

"He's sensitive."

Clara started laughing.

Kiara looked at the bat.

"Does he want a chicken tender?"

Rose put her head in her hands.

"Please don't encourage them."

Margaret, meanwhile, had discovered funnel cake.

And was deeply impressed.

"Why haven't we been eating this all evening?"

Morgan looked up.

"Because we've been doing everything else."

Margaret took another bite.

"We should correct that."

DC returned from the dessert stand carrying an enormous funnel cake covered in powdered sugar.

Morgan eyed it.

"That looks good."

DC pulled it away.

"No."

She blinked.

"What?"

"Communication."

He grinned.

Morgan stared at him.

Then laughed.

"Oh, you're enjoying yourself."

"Immensely."

She reached for a piece.

He lifted the plate.

"Ask nicely."

"DC."

"Morgan."

"Give me the funnel cake."

"That's not asking nicely."

She narrowed her eyes.

He lowered the plate just enough.

She snatched a piece.

"Thank you."

He laughed.

"You're welcome."

Richard watched the exchange.

Then leaned toward Rose.

"Those two are going to drive each other insane."

Rose smiled.

"I suspect they already do."

The Photo Booth Incident

The Halloween photo booth was supposed to provide a simple souvenir.

A photograph.

Of nine people.

Together.

That was all.

Unfortunately, nobody had accounted for the personalities involved.

"Richard, move left."

"I am left."

"Your other left."

"That's right!"

"Exactly!"

Old Thomas attempted to position his wings without blocking Rose.

Young Thomas kept turning his glowing mask toward the camera.

Margaret insisted on crouching behind everyone like a lurking monster.

Clara was laughing too hard to stand still.

Kiara wanted to hold Bartholomew.

Old Thomas reluctantly agreed.

DC stood behind Morgan.

"You're blocking me," she said.

"I'm taller."

"That is not an excuse."

"Want me to crouch?"

"Yes."

He crouched dramatically.

Morgan looked down.

"Not like you're proposing."

Clara made a choking noise.

DC looked up at Morgan.

"Would you prefer I kneel?"

"DC!"

Richard roared with laughter.

The photographer raised her camera.

"Everybody ready?"

"No!" Rose shouted.

Click.

The flash went off.

The resulting photograph featured Margaret looking genuinely monstrous, Richard mid-laugh, Rose visibly exasperated, Old Thomas reaching for Bartholomew, Young Thomas staring directly into the lens, Clara doubled over, Kiara grinning, Morgan looking scandalized, and DC smiling like he'd just won something.

The photographer examined the image.

Then smiled.

"Honestly? That's perfect."

Morgan looked at the preview.

"...I hate that she's right."

They ordered copies.

Naturally.

The Costume Contest

By nine o'clock, the costume contest had attracted an enormous crowd.

A temporary stage stood near the town square.

Spotlights swept over the audience.

Music blasted from speakers.

The announcer, dressed as a vampire, welcomed everyone with theatrical enthusiasm.

"ARE YOU READY, BELLWEATHER?"

The crowd screamed.

Margaret screamed louder.

Rose flinched.

"Good grief."

The contest began with children.

Kiara entered proudly in her dragon princess costume.

She walked across the stage, turned, spread her decorative wings, and gave the audience a regal wave.

The crowd adored her.

Clara cheered.

"THAT'S OUR DRAGON!"

Kiara grinned.

She didn't win first place, but she received a ribbon and an enormous bag of candy.

She considered that a perfectly acceptable outcome.

Then came the teenagers.

Clara entered in her woodland witch costume.

Her elaborate details earned enthusiastic applause.

Morgan whistled.

Richard waved his wizard staff.

"THAT'S MY FAVORITE WITCH!"

Clara covered her face.

"OH MY GOD."

The adult contest was considerably more chaotic.

Old Thomas stepped onto the stage.

His skeletal wings spread dramatically.

The crowd gasped.

Young Thomas followed.

Cyan lights illuminated his mechanical mask.

The audience erupted.

The announcer stared.

"Well, that's unsettling."

Young Thomas bowed.

Richard entered next.

He raised his staff.

The crowd cheered.

DC leaned toward Morgan.

"He's going to cast a spell."

Morgan grinned.

"Let him."

Richard pointed the staff toward the sky.

"BEHOLD!"

Nothing happened.

A child in the audience shouted, "DO MAGIC!"

Richard froze.

DC nearly collapsed laughing.

Morgan covered her mouth.

Richard recovered magnificently.

"A true wizard does not perform on command!"

The crowd laughed.

Then Margaret appeared.

The announcer took one look at her.

"Oh, absolutely not."

Margaret advanced.

The announcer backed away.

She tilted her head.

He retreated behind the podium.

The crowd went wild.

Rose, waiting nearby in her solar eclipse costume, shook her head.

"She's going to win."

Morgan smiled.

"Probably."

But the contest had plenty of impressive competitors.

Elaborate monsters.

Handmade fantasy armor.

A woman dressed as a haunted Victorian doll.

A man whose costume made him appear to be carrying his own head.

By the time the judges announced the winners, the crew had collected several honorable mentions, a prize for Young Thomas' mechanical design, and a special award for Margaret's performance.

Margaret accepted her ribbon with enormous satisfaction.

"I'd like to thank everyone I frightened tonight."

Rose groaned.

"Of course you would."

Margaret lifted her ribbon.

"And everyone I haven't frightened yet."

The announcer took a cautious step backward.

The Dance Floor Takes Over

At nine-thirty, the DJ announced the beginning of the Halloween street dance.

The crowd surged toward the center of Main Street.

Colored lights swept across the pavement.

Music boomed.

And Margaret, apparently not remotely tired, grabbed Richard by the arm.

"Come on!"

"Where?"

"Dancing!"

Richard looked at her.

"I'm a wizard."

"Then conjure up some rhythm!"

She dragged him toward the crowd.

DC laughed.

"Oh, I have to see this."

Rose followed, smiling despite herself.

Clara and Kiara were already dancing.

Morgan joined them.

Old Thomas carefully secured Bartholomew before stepping onto the dance floor.

Young Thomas removed his mask, tucked it safely away, and followed.

For a while, everything was gloriously ridiculous.

Richard danced with the confidence of a man who believed enthusiasm was more important than technique.

Margaret spun around him, her chupacabra claws waving overhead.

Clara danced with Kiara.

Rose laughed as Old Thomas attempted a dramatic turn with his enormous wings.

Young Thomas stepped in beside him.

They performed the same movement.

At exactly the same time.

Rose stopped dancing.

"Oh, that's disturbing."

Old Thomas smiled.

"What?"

"You two."

Young Thomas looked amused.

"We're dancing."

"Identically."

Both Thomases glanced at each other.

Then deliberately repeated the movement.

Rose pointed at them.

"Stop that!"

They did it again.

Morgan was laughing so hard she could barely keep dancing.

DC leaned toward her.

"Want to show them how it's done?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"You think you can keep up?"

He grinned.

"Try me."

She stepped closer.

"Don't complain when you lose."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The next song began.

And Morgan discovered that DC Carter could, in fact, dance.

Quite well.

She looked mildly offended.

"Since when?"

"Since when what?"

"Since when can you dance?"

He laughed.

"You never asked."

"That is suspicious."

"You're just upset I'm good at something."

"You're good at plenty of things."

He blinked.

Morgan realized what she'd said.

Then immediately added, "Being annoying, for example."

DC threw his head back laughing.

"There she is."

She pointed at him.

"Don't get comfortable."

"Wouldn't dare."

Across the dance floor, Richard noticed them.

He nudged Rose.

"Look at those two."

Rose glanced over.

Then smiled.

"Leave them alone."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

Richard grinned.

"Maybe."

The Dance-Off Nobody Asked For

It started with Richard.

Of course it did.

The DJ announced an impromptu dance competition.

Richard immediately volunteered.

DC stared at him.

"Granddad."

"What?"

"Please."

Richard adjusted his wizard hat.

"Watch and learn."

The first competitor was a teenager dressed as a vampire.

He performed an impressive series of moves.

The crowd cheered.

Richard stepped forward.

And responded with the most enthusiastic collection of questionable dance steps Bellweather had ever witnessed.

Margaret screamed with laughter.

Morgan bent over.

DC covered his face.

Richard finished with a dramatic spin.

His wizard hat flew off.

The crowd erupted.

The DJ shouted, "GIVE IT UP FOR THE WIZARD!"

Richard bowed.

Then nearly tripped over his robe.

Old Thomas caught him.

"Careful."

Richard straightened.

"I meant to do that."

Young Thomas nodded solemnly.

"Naturally."

The next round involved partners.

Margaret grabbed Old Thomas.

Rose grabbed Young Thomas.

Clara pulled Kiara into the open space.

Morgan tried to retreat.

DC caught her hand.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere safe."

"Too late."

He guided her into the crowd.

She laughed.

"You're going to regret this."

"Probably."

The music changed.

And suddenly the entire group was dancing together.

Margaret performed a dramatic monster-themed routine.

Richard attempted to imitate her.

Old Thomas spun Rose.

Young Thomas joined in.

Clara and Kiara invented their own synchronized routine.

Morgan and DC exchanged challenges, laughter, and increasingly ridiculous dance moves.

The audience cheered.

Someone started chanting for the wizard.

Someone else shouted for the chupacabra.

The DJ was laughing into his microphone.

And for several minutes, the entire festival seemed to revolve around nine people who had absolutely no intention of becoming the evening's entertainment.

By the time the music ended, everyone was breathless.

Richard leaned against his staff.

"I believe we won."

Morgan wiped tears from her eyes.

"There wasn't even a winner."

"Then we won by default."

DC shook his head.

"Unbelievable."

Candy in Boots

The candy incident began innocently.

Kiara was sorting through her growing collection of sweets.

Clara was helping.

Or, at least, she was supposed to be helping.

"You're putting all the chocolate together?" Clara asked.

Kiara nodded.

"Obviously."

"And the gummies?"

"Separate."

"Very organized."

"I have a system."

Clara grinned.

"Well, make sure you don't eat everything tonight."

Kiara looked offended.

"I'm not going to eat everything."

"Good."

"I'm saving some for later."

Clara glanced at the overflowing candy bag.

"Where are you planning to hide it?"

Kiara shrugged.

"Somewhere nobody will find it."

Clara opened her mouth to respond.

Then stopped.

Something about those words felt familiar.

Somewhere nobody will find it.

For a moment, the sounds of the festival seemed to drift into the background.

She remembered a bedroom.

A pair of boots sitting beside the bed.

And herself, younger than she was now, carefully stuffing wrapped sweets into the toes of those boots.

She'd been so proud of herself.

Nobody would ever think to look there.

She remembered sneaking back into her room later, eager to retrieve her treasure.

Only to discover that the chocolate had melted.

Inside her boots.

Everywhere.

Clara blinked.

Then burst out laughing.

Kiara looked up.

"What?"

Clara shook her head.

"Oh my gosh."

"What?"

"I just remembered something."

Morgan, standing nearby, turned toward her.

"What did you remember?"

Clara was still laughing.

"When I was little, I used to hide candy in my boots."

Kiara stared.

"Your boots?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I thought nobody would find it!"

Kiara considered that.

"That's actually not a terrible hiding place."

"Thank you!"

"Unless somebody needs to wear the boots."

Clara laughed harder.

"Well, that was part of the problem."

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"Part of the problem?"

Clara nodded.

"I hid chocolate in them. And then I left them somewhere warm."

Kiara's eyes widened.

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

Morgan covered her mouth.

"Clara."

"It melted!"

Kiara dissolved into laughter.

"IN YOUR BOOTS?"

"Everywhere! I went to get my candy, and there was chocolate all inside them!"

Morgan started laughing.

"Please tell me you didn't put them on."

Clara shook her head.

"No! Thankfully, I looked first."

Kiara was laughing so hard she nearly dropped her candy bag.

"That's disgusting!"

"It was horrible!"

"Did you get in trouble?"

Clara paused, searching the memory.

"I remember having to clean them out. And I was much more upset about losing the chocolate than anything else."

Morgan laughed.

"Of course you were."

Clara looked down at Kiara's candy.

"Anyway, that's my advice. Don't hide chocolate in your boots."

Kiara nodded solemnly.

"Understood."

A moment passed.

Then she glanced down at her own boots.

Clara noticed immediately.

"Don't even think about it."

Kiara grinned.

"I wasn't!"

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"That sounded suspicious."

Kiara carefully placed the candy back into her bag.

"Fine. I'll find somewhere better."

Clara stared at her.

"That is not what I meant!"

Kiara smiled sweetly.

"I know."

Morgan burst out laughing.

Clara shook her head, still smiling.

And somewhere beneath all the laughter, the memory settled comfortably into place.

A little piece of her childhood, returned by something as simple as a bag of Halloween candy.

The Kitchen Dance

Later, another song drifted through the festival.

Something older.

Familiar.

Rose stopped walking.

Old Thomas turned toward the music.

Young Thomas did too.

For a moment, all three were quiet.

Then Rose smiled.

"Oh, I remember this."

Old Thomas nodded.

"The kitchen."

Young Thomas looked toward her.

"You used to make us dance."

Rose laughed softly.

"I made Thomas dance."

Both men smiled.

Because they remembered it exactly.

One childhood.

One kitchen.

One older sister grabbing her younger brother's hands and spinning him around while music played.

Rose held out her hands.

"Well?"

Old Thomas looked at Young Thomas.

Young Thomas gestured toward Rose.

"After you."

Old Thomas took her hands.

They danced.

Nothing elaborate.

Just a familiar little pattern from years ago.

Rose laughed when he turned her.

Then she reached for Young Thomas.

"Your turn."

He stepped forward.

And danced the same steps.

The same rhythm.

The same remembered movements.

Rose's expression softened for just a moment.

Then Old Thomas said, "You still step on toes."

Rose gasped.

"I do not!"

Young Thomas smiled.

"You absolutely do."

Rose swatted his arm.

"Both of you are impossible!"

And just like that, the moment dissolved into laughter.

The Final Festival Challenge

The last major competition of the evening was a Halloween relay.

Teams had to complete a series of ridiculous tasks.

Carry a plastic pumpkin without dropping it.

Balance a fake eyeball on a spoon.

Navigate a short obstacle course.

And finish by tossing a rubber spider into a cauldron.

Richard signed them up before anyone could object.

Morgan stared.

"Why?"

"Because we're champions."

"Of what?"

"Everything."

DC sighed.

"Granddad."

Richard pointed his staff.

"No surrender!"

The group split into teams.

And the chaos began.

Clara was excellent at the obstacle course.

Kiara handled the eyeball balance with remarkable concentration.

Margaret carried the pumpkin while making frightening noises at the opposing team.

Old Thomas attempted the spider toss.

Missed.

Young Thomas stepped forward.

Missed.

Rose took the spider.

Dropped it directly into the cauldron.

Both Thomases applauded.

Richard ran his portion of the relay with unnecessary dramatic flair.

His robe nearly caught beneath his shoes.

DC shouted, "PICK UP YOUR FEET!"

"I AM!"

Morgan completed her task and passed the pumpkin to DC.

"Don't drop it!"

"I won't!"

He immediately fumbled.

Caught it.

And kept running.

Morgan screamed with laughter.

"VERY IMPRESSIVE!"

"IT DIDN'T HIT THE GROUND!"

"BARELY!"

By the time the relay ended, nobody cared who had won.

Everyone was laughing too hard.

The announcer declared the entire event a success.

Richard declared himself undefeated.

Rose reminded him that his team had come second.

Richard waved dismissively.

"Technicalities."

Fireworks Over Bellweather

At eleven, the music softened.

The announcer invited everyone to gather for the fireworks.

Families settled onto benches.

Children climbed into parents' laps.

Couples stood beneath strings of lights.

The crew found a place near the edge of the square, where they could see the sky above the rooftops.

Kiara had acquired hot chocolate.

Clara was holding a bag of candy.

Old Thomas still had Bartholomew.

Margaret was admiring her costume-contest ribbon.

Richard was explaining, for the third time, why second place in the relay was practically first.

Rose was ignoring him.

Morgan stood beside DC.

The first firework exploded overhead.

Purple light spread across the sky.

Then gold.

Then orange.

The crowd gasped.

Kiara tilted her head back.

"That's beautiful."

Clara smiled.

"It really is."

Another burst illuminated the rooftops.

Old Thomas looked toward Rose.

She smiled at him.

Young Thomas stood beside them, watching the same sky.

Richard fell quiet for once.

Margaret lowered her ribbon.

For a little while, nobody argued.

Nobody competed.

Nobody tried to frighten anyone.

They simply watched.

Then a particularly enormous firework burst overhead.

Richard jumped.

DC turned immediately.

"Granddad."

Richard glared.

"Don't."

Morgan started laughing.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You were thinking it."

"Absolutely."

The fireworks continued.

And the laughter returned.

Nobody Wants to Go Home

By the time the final firework faded, the festival was winding down.

Food trucks were closing.

The DJ was playing quieter music.

Volunteers were collecting decorations.

And Kiara was running out of energy.

She insisted she wasn't tired.

Twice.

Then yawned so widely that Clara started laughing.

"Sure you're not."

"I'm not."

"Of course."

Kiara rubbed her eyes.

Morgan glanced down at her.

"You had fun?"

Kiara nodded.

"A lot."

"Good."

They began walking toward the parking area.

Kiara made it approximately half a block before slowing.

DC noticed.

He stopped.

"C'mere, dragon."

Kiara looked up.

"I'm fine."

"I know."

He crouched slightly.

"Hop on."

She hesitated for approximately two seconds.

Then climbed onto his back.

DC hooked his arms securely beneath her legs and stood.

"There we go."

Kiara rested her arms around his shoulders.

"You're tall."

He laughed.

"So I've been told."

"Don't drop me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She rested her cheek against his shoulder.

Within minutes, her eyes closed.

Morgan noticed.

Noticed how easily DC carried her.

How he adjusted his hold without interrupting his conversation with Richard.

How he kept walking with a sleeping seven-year-old on his back as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Something fluttered unexpectedly in Morgan's stomach.

Just a little.

She looked away.

Then looked back.

DC was laughing at something Richard had said.

Completely unaware.

Morgan smiled faintly.

And decided not to examine that feeling too closely.

"All right," Margaret announced as they reached the parking area. "Who is riding with whom?"

Nine people stopped.

Three vehicles waited.

And suddenly nobody seemed to know where they belonged.

Richard pointed toward DC.

"I'm riding with him."

DC looked over.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Good to know."

Rose looked at the Thomases.

"Where are you two going?"

"With you," Old Thomas said.

"I don't have a car."

Young Thomas nodded.

"An obstacle."

Rose stared at him.

"Thank you for identifying it."

Margaret folded her arms.

"Most of you are staying at my house anyway. It doesn't matter which vehicle you ride in. Morgan and DC can drop you off."

Morgan nodded.

"Exactly."

Richard looked at DC.

"Then I'm riding with you."

DC sighed.

"You've already established that."

Clara glanced at Kiara, who was asleep on DC's back.

"She's not going to wake up for this discussion."

"Nope," DC said.

Margaret pointed toward her vehicle.

"Rose, Thomas, and Thomas. With me."

Both Thomases turned.

Rose laughed.

"Well, that solves that."

Old Thomas looked down at Bartholomew.

"Will there be room for him?"

Margaret stared.

"Thomas."

"He's very small."

"Get in the car."

Young Thomas nodded.

"A reasonable request."

Richard leaned toward Morgan.

"See? Simple."

Morgan stared at him.

"We've been standing here for ten minutes."

"Efficiently."

DC laughed.

"Granddad, please get in the vehicle."

Eventually, everyone settled on their rides.

DC carefully helped Kiara into a seat without waking her completely, then made sure she was properly secured.

Morgan watched from nearby.

That little flutter returned.

Annoying.

Unexpected.

She looked toward the sky.

Absolutely ridiculous.

"Everything okay?" DC asked.

She turned.

"Perfect."

He smiled.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Captain Eyeliner."

He laughed.

"There she is."

The vehicles pulled out of the parking area, their headlights sweeping across the now-quiet streets.

The ride back to Margaret's was filled with exhausted laughter, sleepy conversations, and occasional arguments about who had actually won which competition.

Richard insisted he'd dominated pumpkin bowling.

Nobody agreed.

Margaret maintained that she'd been the star of the parade.

Nobody disputed that.

Old Thomas insisted Bartholomew had been the evening's greatest prize.

Young Thomas wholeheartedly supported the claim.

Rose threatened to leave them both on the roadside if they continued discussing the bat.

By the time everyone reached Margaret's house, the group had somehow found enough energy for one final round of laughter.

Richard climbed out, adjusted his wizard hat, and declared, "An excellent evening."

Margaret looked at him.

"You're welcome."

"For what?"

"Everything."

Rose shook her head.

Clara was still smiling.

Kiara was barely awake.

DC helped her inside while the others gathered their bags, prizes, and leftover candy.

Morgan lingered near the doorway for a moment, watching the ridiculous collection of people she'd somehow come to care about.

A wizard.

A chupacabra.

A solar eclipse.

Two versions of Thomas Mercer.

A woodland witch.

A sleepy dragon princess.

A pirate with smudged eyeliner.

And herself.

A Medusa who had spent most of the evening laughing until her stomach hurt.

Margaret opened the door wider.

"Are you coming inside, or are you planning to stand there admiring my house?"

Morgan laughed.

"Coming."

Old Thomas stepped past her.

Bartholomew tucked securely beneath his arm.

Richard looked at the bat.

"I still can't believe you spent that much money winning that thing."

Old Thomas stopped.

Turned.

And looked Richard directly in the eyes.

"He's priceless."

Young Thomas nodded.

"Absolutely."

Rose groaned.

"Goodnight, everyone."

Margaret laughed.

Clara started laughing.

Morgan followed.

And somewhere behind them, DC's laughter joined the rest.

For once, Bellweather hadn't demanded anything from them.

No mysteries.

No impossible questions.

No shadows waiting to be understood.

Just music, costumes, candy, laughter, and one gloriously ridiculous Halloween night.

And if anyone asked Old Thomas what he'd remember most?

He would have had a very simple answer.

"Bartholomew."

Happy Halloween from Bellweather. 🎃💜