Mr Lynch

The house was mostly dark, save a dim light on the porch. I moved up the crumbling walk and stopped before a paint peeled door. Grasping the iron knocker, I tapped three times, hearing the sound echo in the bowels of the house. “Who is it” a faint voice said. “Go away”. “Trick or Treat” I cheerfully called. After a moment or two, the door slowly swung open. Standing there was an old man, bent at the hip, holding a cane with a serpent head studded with ruby eyes. He was dressed in a rumpled black suit of some vintage. His hair was white and stringy, in much need of being cut. On his neck he had a red mark as if his collar were too tight. “What do you want” he growled. “I’m here collecting candy” I said, holding up my bag for him to see. “It’s Halloween”. He mumbled something, then said “step in, I’ll see what I can find, and turning, shuffled off into another room. I looked around. Everything was covered with dust. The clock in the hall uttered not a sound. If it weren’t for the old man, it would look like no one lived here at all. Soon he returned, bearing a candy bar of questionable vintage. Dropping it in my bag he said “now leave” and pointed with his cane towards the door. “I haven’t seen you around here before” I ventured. “I sleep a lot” he said. “Now go, leave me alone” The next day, while I was sorting through my confection treats, my dad picked up the candy bar with the faded wrapper and said “where did you get this” “I haven’t seen one of these in years”. “I got it at that big old house just down the street” I said. My dad said “son, you must be mistaken. No one lives in that old house. It’s been vacant since old Mr. Lynch hung himself there right before Halloween, about twenty years ago. Written for "A Creepy, Scary, Haunted House Poem Please' contest Bob Quigley Sept 19, 2011