In October of 1966, my parents, sisters, and I moved from San Francisco. My father had decided that it was not the environment for his three little girls. When my parents decided to leave California, they were not too worried about my schooling. I was in kindergarten. We had just finished learning the "hokie pokie." We took naps and had treats and fingerpainted. I don't even remember learning how to write my name. Let's say that it was more a play group than a classroom.

I don't know all the whys and wherefores. Just that my parents sold everything except for the basics, which they packed into two cars. They drove from San Francisco to Salt Lake City where my grandparents were living. Once there, my parents started looking for a home, jobs, and my mother took a trip to Idaho for her father's funeral. I think she took my two sisters because that Halloween I was alone with my grandma, grandpa, and my uncle.

My uncle was fifteen. Today, you would have called him the surprise or "oops" baby. As soon as I saw my uncle, I loved him. I followed him around all day long. At fifteen, he had long hair, wrote bad poetry and songs, and pretty much tried to look like a hippy. My father who was several years older was not impressed with his baby brother. My father found the hippy movement scary, while my uncle seemed to want to be a part of it. There was a few tense moments. But, I was five. What did I know?

My grandmother was busy baking cookies and treats for Halloween. She had helped me find a cute little costume, probably a gypsy costume. I either wanted to be a gypsy or a pirate long before the "Pirates of the Caribbean." My uncle was told that his job was to keep me out of trouble. It was no trouble for me.

But, yes, he whined. "Why?"

So for about an hour, I walked proudly up and down the street with my uncle. We would walk to the door and he would rap on it. Trick or treat, we would yell. The homeowner would remark at how cute I looked, then she or he would put a treat in my brown bag. Everytime some said "how cute" with that "ahhh" sound in their voice my uncle became just a little madder. He refused to talk and he would glower at me. I was oblivious.

At the end of the long street, my uncle led me to a house that how been lovingly decorated for Halloween. As we approached the house, I could see webs around the gate and front door. I brushed the cobwebs from my costume as he opened the gate for me in parody of a guy with his girl. My uncle began to grin. This would the be funnest part of the night.

My heart began to pound in my chest.

The door opened. Out walked the wickedest witch I had ever seen in my young life. She had a black dress, huge black pointed, hat, and floppy shoes. Her face was painted green with a wart stuck out on her nose. She pulled out a huge stick and began to stir a cauldron, steam or more likely dry ice vapor, poured out of it.

I stood there in shock.

The witch cackled. "Want something, little girl?"

I lost it. Remember I was just five years old. My uncle was grinning broadly by that time. This was going to be fun.

I screamed. It was so loud that my grandmother could hear it from all the way to her house. I ran to her. She opened the door. And, I only quit screaming after she held me for a long long time.

My uncle was there about fifteen minutes later. He knew he was in trouble. My grandmother took one long look at him and said, "What were you thinking." He went to his room.

Learn more about this author, Cyn Bagley.
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