Teresa took one last look around. The bed and breakfast was, by far, the hauntingest Victorian around, and that was saying a lot, given the Abbott Bed and Breakfast sat in the middle of Ruthorford. With help from “the boys,” Dorian and Eryk, though they were far from being boys, the bed and breakfast had been transformed into quite the haunt. Of course, Eryk had contributed all sorts of special effects from his Magic Shop, which was now in Merlyn’s Roost, not far from Ruthorford. She’d had no idea how much technology went into an illusionist’s performance, even when that illusionist had magic of his own.
She stepped forward and looked out the double doors, getting ready to flip a switch, which would turn on a light show across the front of the old painted lady. Main Street was dressed all in her Halloween finest, from the tiny Victorian Cottage post office across from the bed and breakfast all the way down the street. The median burst forth with vapor rising from the fountain, which had been scrubbed and filled with fresh crisp apples bobbing in the frothing water. Jasmine was manning the median, with her cousins, Bonnie and Claire, in charge of the boutique and the goodies they were handing out. All the shops were outfitted for the night, for kids and adults alike.
Chapters, the bookstore, had gone all out in their window decor and was showing continuous runs of the old scary movies from the set-up they’d had Dorian and Eryk fix from the second story over the shop. Chairs dotted the median so people could stop and watch, taking a themed break as they made their way down Main Street.
The art gallery wasn’t quite up to opening its doors to sticky fingers, so they were serving treats and apple cider out front and had decorated their windows with some of the scariest art she’d ever seen, the lighting casting just the right amount of eerie light across the masters’ works.
Elements, the Native American shop, had the perfect contribution, fashioning treat bags, masks, and noisemakers so fine that they would be saved to hand down for another generation of trick or treaters.
The old sisters, Alice and Grace, were as enthusiastic as anyone, dressing in witches’ costumes, with grand hats, adorned with purple and green veils and feathers. Capes billowed out around them as they stirred the giant cauldron in front of their decorated Victorian. Thanks to Eryk, eerie music floated from speakers on the porch. For the kids, they had bags of candy, candy apples, and trinkets. For the adults, they offered fresh fruit tarts and homemade fudge, along with their own special witches’ brew.
However, the greatest treat of all, for young and old alike, was The Shoppe of Spells. The downstairs had been transformed into stations of eerie activities, from talking heads to a fierce beast from beyond, safely restrained by a golden chain. Everyone wondered how Dorian had trained Meesha, the sweetest of border collies, to play the role. But, for Halloween, she was all in—as long as you didn’t see the wagging tail. If the guests didn’t flee in fright, they made their way through a very dark corridor of uneven floors and spooky moans and groans, out the back, and along a path where zombies popped up and giant spiders leaped, until they reached the cottage, where the Dutch door stood half-open in invitation. Who else was there to give out treats but the beautiful witch with the glowing green eyes, Morgana. Of course, having received their reward, the visitors would turn only to be surprised by Dorian and Eryk, displaying their magic at its finest—green and purple lightning shooting over the visitors’ heads. Squeals, screams, and laughter erupted as they ran around the side of the old mansion, right into spider webs and fog.
By the time they reached the bed and breakfast, they were ready for a respite and something wholesome to eat, unaware of what Teresa had in store for them. I’d tell, but that would spoil the fun ~
From all of Ruthorford to all of you ~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN!