By Dorothy Beckwith Tyson
Member of Carthage High School
Member of Carthage High School
“In day of old, when ghosts were bold
And witches held their sway.”
Hallowe’en was in the air. Even the day before had been suggestive of the coming frolic. That night, soon after dark, witches began to appear on the streets, and soon they were joined by a number of sheet-clad ghosts, as fearful and grewsome as any get to be. Lastly, five or six goblins were collected and together, these weird creatures plotted and planned their night’s raid.
It was not entirely without a shiver of anticipation that the townspeople came down town that night. They knew it was Hallowe’en, and that this night would out-rivel in mischief all of its yearly predecessors. And so, it was with a feeling of curiosity as well as of awe, that quiet, unoffending individuals ventured out.
Just out of town, “Old Man” Dawson lived the life of a hermit. His only companion was old “Zack,” introduced informal society as Zachariah Dawson was a tough individual and notorious character. Among this memorial deeds still told in fear and trembling was the time “Zack’s” son walked in front of him; his lordship immediately called him out and the terrified negro to hold up his hand. He whipped out his pistol and fired rapidly in succession, the result being that Annanias was minus three fingers.
This formidable old man ruled with an iron h and his kingdom, which consisted of an amiable old negro, two forlorn chickens, and a very saucy parrot. His mere whims became commands, and the life and death of his subjects depended upon his disposition. There had been times, as old “Zack” testified, when his master had come out of his shell and remained human for a short time. But these spells of good humor were few and far between, and to pay for these occasional relaxes, terrified days followed, when his household was afraid to breathe.
Although he knew it was October 31st, he had no recognition or acknowledge4ment of Hallowe’en. He had been brought up by a father just as stern and unyielding as the son himself In their dictionary of Life there were no such words as love and sentiment. While other children listened ardently to the fairy tales and stories of Santa Claus, he knew nothing about the world of fairies, gnomes, elves, goblins and ghosts, so dear and so terrifying to the hearts of the young.
Tonight, fun had been raging in the town. The good natured townspeople endured the juvenile pranks in tolerance, as a disease each youngster must go through. An hour ago, the excitement had reached its climax, and after all the gates, fences and bridges had been torn down, furniture taken out to the ditches, calls made on the superstitions, several parties taken in, there seemed nothing more to be done in the way of mischief, until Joe, the leader of the clan, suggested idly:
“Well, we’ve taken in about everything tonight except old ‘Devil-John.’ ‘Spose we try him? He’s a tough customer, but I’ll guarantee he’ll furnish us plenty of excitement.”
“What!” gasped the faithful flollowers. No wonder they were shocked! Whoever had braved the terror of “Old Man” Dawson?
“Aw say, Joe,” put in one of the younger boys timidly. “Say, ain’t you kinda kiddin’ us? You sohorely don’t mean you are gonna prank with old ‘Devil-John’”, and he rolled his eyes in horror.
“Yes, that’s just what I do mean! But, of course, if you-all is sech babies, I better jest tote you back to yer mammies. But if you’ve got the nerve, and’ll go with me, we’ll have a big time! Oh boy! Jest set yer hopes on that. What do you say? Will you go?”
“Aw Joe, I ain’t scared a-tall. But I—er—a—uh just don’[t like. I don’t—I’m not very fond o’ prankin’ around wid ‘Devil-John.’ But I ain’t a coward. If the others’ll go, well, I—er reckon I will too. I’m a-telling you, I don’t want to go, but I will go, jest to show you I ain’t afraid.”
“Huh! Who’s afraid of an old nigger, and a crazy old man?” bravely ejected another. “I guess we’d better make Jim stay to home, he might git scared and cry.”
“You shut your mouth, you Bill Hopkins, you! Just wait till I get hold to you, and you’ll change your opinion might quick I’m a’thinking!”
“Aw rats! You’ll make me tired,” growled Joe. “Ain’t it a pleasant way to spend Hallowe’en, though afussing and a’quarrelling! If you-all can save your tears till we get b ack, we might as well start. It’s a right long way, you known. Hey you, Tom and Red, bring them pumpkins with you. Be careful and don’t tear those sheets.”
And so they set out, 10 strong, shrieking at the top of their voices. The weather was quickly changing from warm peaceful to chilly turbulent. A fierce storm arose, and the wind whistled shrilly about them. At the end of an hour, they reached their destination and it was with much curiosity that they looked about them.
The shackeldy old house seemed the inspiration of a haunted house. It was a weird looking object, sitting back from the road, shaded by enormous, drooping withered trees, and surrounded by weeds high enough to reach the rickety window sills. Old broken shutters shut out the light of the day-time sun. During the fierce windstorm, a part of the side porch was blown in, leaving a triangular hole in the side of the house.
The boys advanced cautiously. Each thought of the long ago murder which had taken place in this self-same old house, and shivers of fear and horror ran up and down their spines. They were near the side porch now, and after a whispered consultation, they donned their ghostly costumes, and picking up their pumpkins, walked to the porch. With difficulty, they managed to squeeze through.
They found themselves in what had been a dining room in former (some lines appear to be missing) After another sneezed, and Joe, glowering at them, turned impatiently, and whispered in wrath, “Now you’ve done it. Old ‘Devil-John’s’ done heard us, I bet. But come on! Don’t be gumps.”
These 10 ghosts moved silently down the hall, where they could see a faint ray of light shining from under a massive oak door. They guessed this to be ‘Devil-John’s’ living-dining-and-bed-room. They ducked in time as old “Zack” came down the hall, slowly scratching his head. Just as he passed, Jim Hawkins started to sneeze, but the ever efficient Joe smothered it in time.
The aged negro, crooning to himself, shuffled slowly down the hall in the direction of the light. The boys were thoroughly aroused now, and excitement ran high! Now had come the time to act!!
Tiptoeing down the hall in single file, they halted in front of the door, where they still saw the light. There was not a sound within, and peeping through the keyhole, Joe saw only a faintly burning candle, flickering slightly. As they had planned, they rushed in suddenly, and in so doing, the draft caused by the door, completely extinguished the light. All was in complete darkness. For a moment, the boys held their breath, wondering what do next. Not a sound could be heard; the room lay in painful silence.
Moving a step forward, Joe fumbled in the dark, searching silently for the candle. Accidentally, he touched it, and Bang! Down it crashed to the floor.
At the same instant, the terrified boys could hear old “Zack” laboriously arising from the corner. Immediately, the door was abruptly pushed open, and in rushed “Devil-John” with a lighted match in his hand.
“Ha! Ha!” screamed the parrot, “I have you now.”
“Cack! Cack! Cack!” squawked the chickens.
“Meow! Meow!” shrieked the cats, ensemble.
“Aw de Good Lord. Jedgement day am come!” groaned the crazed negro in frenzied moans.
As “Devil-John” entered hastily, his match blew out, again leaving the room in utter darkness. “What does all this mean, Zack?” roared “Devil-John,” finding his domain invaded by mysterious marauders. He received no answer but the moans and groans of “Zack” lying prostrate on the floor.
His instinct told him there were others in the room, and his temper rose to a terrific height. He made his way toward his pistol, lying, untouched for years, on the same shelf. Fumbling awkwardly, he knocked his pistol off, and down it fell to the floor. The terror stricken boys huddled together, waiting with palpitating hearts. At the same instant the pistol hit the floor, it went off with a terrific report. The heavy body of old “Devil-John” fell with a powerful thud, writhing and screaming in agony. A few seconds, and all was still again.
Here in total darkness was the group of mischievous boys, who had started out so merrily in the earlier evening, alone in a haunted house, with a murder on their hands. What had begun as a Hallowe’en prank ended as a tragedy. The rain beat down monotonously and relentlessly on the roof far into the night.
From page 4 of The Moore County News, Nov. 1, 1923
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