just another halloween

by Brett Pribble

Candy corn, Hersey’s kisses, drops of blood. Superman and Wonder Woman scream in the cold night air. Pumpkins scatter in the yard—carved, gutted, hollow. Adults run faster than their children. Little Cooper trips in the crowd and is trampled. Skeletons on rooftops blend well with the shooter’s rifle.

A knight in shining armor is riddled with lead as zombies howl and princesses lie quietly in the mud. The foam gravestones don’t bear their names. Sirens burn the sky, wrap the scene with yellow caution like the kind used to decorate houses across the country.

A German shepherd barks at crying children. No ghoul marches quite like the boys in blue with their tactical gear and weapons far more powerful than shields and arrows. There will be no more knocking on doors, only moonlight that spills over everyone like the harsh light of an interrogation room.

They’ll say it’s not guns. It’s costumes, trick or treating, celebration of a holiday that doesn’t praise Jesus. If only they hadn’t dressed in garments that only Satan would admire, like when they dress as him, or pimps and prostitutes, or in skimpy police uniforms, or perhaps impersonating Christ himself. If only they weren’t just another excuse to do nothing.

Photo of Brett Pribble

BIO: Brett Pribble’s work has appeared in Aquifer: The Florida Review Online, decomP, Stirring: A Literary Collection, Saw Palm, The Molotov Cocktail, Five on the Fifth, Maudlin House, Bending Genres, Bright Flash Literary Review, and other places. He is the Founder and Editor-in-Chief of Ghost Parachute. Follow him on Instagram/X/Bluesky @brettpribble.