by David Elder

Created on: November 01, 2009

Halloween Mask

Jonathan Crowley pulled the collar of his coat tightly around his neck and winced at the stinging sleet that had descended with no warning from the west. It was the afternoon of October 31st, and he still hadn't found the perfect outfit for the Halloween Bash that was to take place that evening at the Hilton. Normally he would have avoided such an event as a waste of time, but tonight was different. A cash prize was to be awarded for the best costume in the amount of five thousand dollars.

Five grand would go a long way right now in convincing Carlos to extend his loan for another week. Damn Yankees, he thought as he turned his head away from a particularly vicious gust. It amazed him how bookies always managed to figure out what the spread should be in order to wring that last dollar out of his pocket. One of these days he was going to hit it big, but until then he would have to use every trick in the book to keep both of his legs intact.

The bright red neon sign in the window of the store he was approaching screamed,

Santa's Emporium and Curio Shop If we don't have it you don't need it.

Jonathan had walked by this hole in the wall many times, not giving it a second thought, but he had heard that they stocked quite a variety of masks and costumes. It seemed curious to him that a Christmas shop would carry Halloween supplies, but considering the economy, he could understand it.

Jonathan reached forward, grasped the doorknob, and pushed his way into the shop which triggered a hanging bell above the door. He then closed the door behind him against the howling wind. He stood there for a moment in the warmth of the interior, feeling some life trickle back into his frozen ears and smelling the acrid odor that arose from his heavy woolen coat. Steam rose from his shoulders as he looked around at the interior.

He had been expecting a Christmas display and ornaments, but was surprised to see that it was more of an antique shop. On second look it appeared to be more like castoff junk.

"Hello, is anyone here?"

A faint rustling came from somewhere to the rear of the shop, and an old man appeared down one of the dimly lit aisles having emerged from behind a row of faded curtains. As the man came closer he appeared ancient and grizzled, bent low over a gnarled cane and wheezing audibly.

"You must be Santa" said Jonathan with a chuckle, somewhat amused at his surroundings and the apparent fragility of the man who now stood before him.

"In a manner of speaking,

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