Leaves
/The three children looked miserable. Ruske stood in her doorway and glared at them.
‘You heard me,’ she said. ‘Go away.’
The children turned and shuffled back along the path that ran through the neat front garden to the street. Ruske decided to increase the trio’s discomfort.
‘Your Halloween costumes are ridiculous,’ she called. ‘Don’t ever demand “trick-or-treat” from me again.’
When the children had closed the garden gate behind them, Ruske saw a nearby figure in a hooded cloak. She couldn’t make out the figure’s face, but she noticed the clasp, in the form of a leaf, that fastened the cloak at the shoulder. The clasp had a bright amber hue, as if lit.
Even adults dress bizarrely at this time of year, Ruske thought and said aloud: ‘If these children are yours, you should know better than to herd them from house to house. Now be off: I don’t wish to be harassed.’
The figure remained motionless and didn’t reply. Ruske closed the door and pushed the bolts across.
That’s it, she resolved. If anyone else pesters me this evening, I won’t answer.
As she headed down the hall, someone knocked.
‘Go away,’ she shouted.
The knocking continued.
Ruske went into the living room and pushed aside a curtain. She looked out at her front garden. Dry, amber-coloured leaves covered it.
Where have these appeared from? she wondered. They weren’t there a few seconds ago.
The rap, rap, rap of the knocker stopped. Ruske shifted her position for a view of the door. Nobody stood there.
She left the window and fetched a broom.
‘Leaves aren’t going to spoil my garden’s appearance,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll sweep them onto the road.’
She opened the front door and bent forward with the broom. Before the bristles could touch the first of the leaves, a powerful gust of wind forced her back into the hall. She gripped the broom’s handle in an effort to retain her balance, but the strength of the gust drove her to the floor.
The impact jarred her bones. She groaned and sat up. In front of her, the leaves from the garden swirled through the open doorway.
She pushed herself to her feet and attempted to shut the door. The leaves prevented her. They scratched her face and covered her eyes. She cried out and flailed at them with her arms.
Then the assault ceased. The door slammed shut and the leaves settled to a depth that covered Ruske to her waist.
She tried to move. Her muscles ached and wouldn’t respond. Sudden dryness constricted her throat and made her gasp.
Unable to breathe, she toppled forward. Within moments, she lay still, her body as desiccated as the leaves around her.
Outside, a figure in a hooded cloak appeared. With a wizened hand, it patted the glowing clasp, in the form of a leaf, that fastened the cloak at the shoulder.
By K. J. Watson
From: United Kingdom