The night of 1,000 snack-size candy bars is here, and as the zombie once said: Must ... have ... CHOCOLATE! Or something like that. Who can understand a zombie anyway?
Before your children (or you, it's cool, don't be ashamed) put on their costumes and transform into sugar-seeking missiles, get in the spirit with these stories from our readers.
Louise Gaillard Wood
Hilton Head Island
Never miss a local story.
In 1939 we had just returned from foreign duty and happily moved into a real house in Atlanta. As Mother was shelving long-stored books one evening, the door bell rang. There on the doorstep was a beautiful tiny princess and a spooky little ghost.
"Twick 'r treat, twick 'r treat," they said.
Very puzzled Mother said, "Honey, I don't know what you are saying. What is it?"
"We want candy!" the ghost said, holding out his paper bag.
"My goodness, I haven't a bit of candy," Mother said. "We've just moved in today. What can I do ? ... Trick-or-treat. ... Oh, I will do a trick. How about that?"
She put her hands on the floor, flung up her feet high, and stood on her head! The little ones thought that was greatest trick ever and went off down the sidewalk, giggling. Mother did give them a real treat.
Hilton Head Island
It was a simpler time, Halloween 1984. My husband was out of town, our high school-age daughter was at a party, our middle school-age son was in his room with a friend getting ready to go trick-or-treating, and our two schnauzers were lying around. I was in the kitchen doing whatever I did in 1984. Our plastic, orange pumpkin was filled with small, individually wrapped candy bars. The first round of trick-or-treaters arrived, and I distributed a few bars of candy. I set the pumpkin down by the door and went back to the kitchen.
About 15 minutes later, the next batch of kids arrived and I went to the door. I was shocked to find my pumpkin was empty! I immediately called my son and his friend telling them this was no time to play games, but they were so shocked and embarrassed that we had no candy, I believed them when they said they had not taken it. I dashed for my purse and gave each of the kids at the door a few coins, and we turned off our lights for the night.
I went to my son's room and nearly tore it apart, practically strip-searched the boys, but alas -- no candy. Knowing our dogs, our son said, "They had to have done it, Mom." Realizing that chocolate is potentially poisonous to dogs, we went, apprehensively, to find Pepper and Awesome. They were alive and well, having had no "accidents" of any kind, and there wasn't a wrapper or a piece of a wrapper anywhere .
The verdict is still out on what happened to all that candy on that mysterious Halloween so long ago.
Hilton Head Island
Many years ago my husband and I lived in a suburb just north of New York City on Long Island Sound. Our home was in a residential neighborhood of many apartment buildings and private houses. Every Hallloween, little groups of trick-or-treaters visited, and we'd have ready for them assorted wrapped candies in individual plastic bags tied with orange and black ribbons.
One Halloween evening we were not able to be at home to receive our visitors. Instead, on a table under the light on our fornt porch we placed a basket full of more than a few dozen bags of candy. A sign was printed which read, "Help yourselves, kids. One package each, please. Happy Halloween!"
When we returned home some time after all the costumed children had completed their rounds, we were pleasantly surprised to find there remained in the basket about three or four candy packages. The kids obviously did as requested.
Kids are awesome!