The soft hairs on my arms stood on end, prickling my skin. A tingling chill travelled down my spine, all the way to the tips of my toes. This was partly the result of my own stubbornness, since I had refused to wear a coat over top of my fairy costume, and partly because I was standing on Mr. Kenning’s doorstep. I wiggled my already-numb toes, hoping to revive them. Looking down at the ‘Welcome’ mat under my feet, I cringed. It was anything but welcoming. I wondered if anyone else had stood in that spot. Surely I wasn’t the only one brave enough (and stupid enough) to approach mean old Mr. Kenning’s house.
His front porch was bare in comparison to the other townhomes on Stellar Lane. His door wasn’t garnished with spider webs, and his railing wasn’t covered in ‘Keep Out’ signs. His lights were off, but I figured he was probably home, seeing how he didn’t get out much. I had only seen him a total of three times in the two years he’d been living in town. Some said he was a scientist, who spent hours in his basement trying to conjure up the next Frankenstein. Others said he was a writer—non-fiction of course. There were also rumours of him being a robot, with bionic legs that made him run super-fast. All I knew for certain was that he was a complete freak show and I was simply there to take my candy and leave.
When I finally mustered enough courage, I rang the doorbell, not persistently, just once. I hoped he was the type of neighbour to hand out full sized chocolate bars. That would really make Fran wish she’d stayed with me. She said her mother would have a fit if she wasn’t home by eight thirty, but she and I both knew the real reason why she left. What was the worst that could happen? He’d shoo me off and tell me not to bother him again? I had three older brothers—I was used to that already. Maybe he’d invite me in and share his mysterious life story with me, though Mom would probably kill me for breaking the ‘don’t talk to strangers’ rule, and then take all my candy as punishment. Before I had time to dream up another possible scenario, my thoughts were interrupted. I heard footsteps approaching the door. As the knob turned, I froze in place, wondering whether it was too late to run.
When the door swung open, I was more than a little shocked. Not because Mr. Kenning was scary looking. No, I was shocked because the person at the door wasn’t a ‘mister’ at all. A pale woman, with eyes about the size of planets, greeted me from inside the doorway. Her face was framed with sandy blonde hair and she looked awfully confused with my presence.
“Who are you?” she asked, giving my fairy dress a quick once-over.
“I’m…uh…I’m…” It was as though all the words I knew had somehow escaped my mind, leaving me dumbfounded.
“Looks like Tinkerbell’s at a loss for words. How fitting.” She laughed quietly to herself, pleased with her own witty remark.
“I’m Paisley, and you’re not Mr. Kenning,” I spoke quickly, knowing that if I stalled, my voice would tremble in fright.
“And you’re very observant,” she smirked, and waited for my retort.
“Anyways, I don’t know who you are, but I’m here for some candy.” I stood tall and confident, showing this woman that I was serious.
“Candy?” she said, as if the whole idea of Halloween was foreign to her.
“Yes, candy. It’s October thirty-first? Halloween? Trick-or-treating? Is this ringing any bells?” I was speaking in a tone Mother would have scolded me for.
“Yes, I am familiar with the holiday. But we don’t have any candy, so you’re out of luck kid.” She reached for the door knob and I turned to leave, when all of a sudden, there was a giant crash. “DAD!?” The woman spun around, leaving the door wide open. Worried, and awfully curious, I decided to step inside and see if she needed any help.
It was Mr. Kenning. The first thing I noticed was his leg; he only had one. The other was mechanical, robot-like, even. He had fallen over and dropped a glass on the way down. I was careful not to step on any broken pieces, keeping my eyes on the ground, I noticed a large tank labelled “OXYGEN” and a cane on the floor beside him. He looked older, and weaker, nothing like the last time I had seen him.
What happened after that is all a blur. I remember hearing the woman’s voice, urging for me to dial 9-1-1. Then, somehow, I ended up here, standing on the sidewalk. As I watch the ambulance drive away, my thoughts muddle into one big puddle of confusion. Did this mean I wasn’t getting my chocolate bar?
The street has dissolved into a quiet hush. I can see the neighbours are starting to worry, huddled up against their windows, they try to sneak a glance at me in my dazed state. Stuck in my trance of thought, I almost don’t notice my mother approaching. I take one look at her expression and figure I’m grounded for life. She walks toward me, grasping the bottom of her nightgown.
“Do you have any idea what time it is young lady? I was worried sick.”
“Sorry Mom, I was just--”
“No excuses. Off to bed.”
I hang my head and follow Mom as we set off for the corner house with the blue garage doors. I want to know what happened. Maybe Mr. Kenning was a robot after all, and that’s why he had to be hooked up to a tank. Maybe he had to reboot, get some new wires, or maybe a new leg. I wonder if he’s friends with Wall-E or R2-D2, or maybe he’s related to C3-PO! I’ll be sure to ask him the next time I see him. I can’t wait to tell Fran about this.