Halloween candy

Chloe went as Belle for Halloween. (Her favorite princess, a fellow brunette.) She wore a big, yellow gown and matching shoes, and her hair was elaborately done. This required multiple coats of hair spray, which her mother, Rachel, applied liberally, as if putting out a fire.

The spray made Chloe cough. It created a mist. “It’s like we’re in a 60s lounge!” Rachel said. “When people would smoke inside.”

Chloe wore lip gloss, too, but just for the afternoon. It was an inconspicuous pink, like her lips already were. But she found it thrilling.

Rachel insisted upon a jacket. Outside, it was sunny but cold. “But no one’ll see my dress!” Chloe said. “Yes, they will,” Rachel assured her. “Your dress is longer than your jacket. And you don’t have to zip it up all the way.”

And Chloe did as she was told.

Their course was charted in previous years. They knew who lived where, who gave out the best candy, and where to be careful, for Chloe’s sake. (The Wilsons were pranksters; the Smiths had an ugly dummy; and the Johnsons’ Golden Retriever was sweet but easily excited.)

By 4:45, they were almost done. There was one house left, at the end of Pine Street, and its owner was a woman named Evelyn. She was about 70 years old, and she kept to herself. But the house was well-maintained, and she had a pumpkin.

So Rachel thought it’d be fine to try her door. “But only ring the bell once,” she said. “I don’t want to bother her.”

Evelyn opened the door soon after. She was tall, with a delicate face; her head was slightly too small for her frame. And her eyes were a lurid green. “Trick or treat!” said Chloe.

And Evelyn sighed. “You know, you’re lucky. This is the first time I’ve answered the door all day.” (Chloe mumbled, “Thank you.”) “Just wait here a second,” Evelyn said. “I have to get my purse. I think I have something in there.”

She came back with a weathered bag, and she took out a bar of candy.

Chloe was surprised. She expected something stale or medicinal, like a lozenge. But this was sweet, and it was wrapped in a thin, golden foil. It looked like it came from an old candy store: a proper confectionery, with dark, wooden shelves. It would’ve cost five cents. “Chocolate,” Evelyn said it was.

Chloe thanked her again and skipped over to Rachel, who said, “It’s going to five o’clock; we should start heading back. Before we run into any rowdy teenagers!” Chloe yawned and agreed.

The wind now exerted itself, and the light of the sun was faint and white.

At home, Rachel sorted Chloe’s candy into two piles: “safe” and “unsafe,” the second of which had peanuts. Chloe, still in her costume, watched on as the piles grew, and her father, David, received the occasional treat. (He called it a “parent tax.”)

The final piece to be sorted was Evelyn’s. “What’s this?” Rachel asked. “It’s not labeled?” said David. “No.” “It’s chocolate,” Chloe said, her patience running low. “I got it from the last house we went to.”

Rachel removed the wrapper, and its content seemed normal enough. Though it felt like consolidated soil.

She broke the bar in half, to inspect it further. Chloe squeaked in objection. “I just want to see something,” Rachel said. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. But she thought that something might reveal itself, like maggots or discoloration. And nothing did. 

Rachel put both pieces back in the wrapper and placed them in the pile of unsafe candy. “What’s wrong with it?” Chloe demanded. “There’s no label,” Rachel said. “No ingredients. You have plenty of candy that’s good.”

And later that night, Rachel wanted a snack.

She went through Chloe’s candy, this time for herself. And curiosity overcame her. She peeled away the golden foil, the anonymous wrapper, and nibbled on a piece of chocolate.

Rachel waited for a reaction. For a tickle at the back of her throat, or an itch somewhere. But nothing like that happened, so she took a larger bite. The flavor was stronger as a result. It was sweeter. But sharply so.

It stung her teeth. It made them numb.

And there was a rumbling that followed. A quake of the mouth, a rupture in Rachel’s gums. Her teeth turned to dust, and so did her tongue. And in her belly, all of it mixed with Evelyn’s chocolate.