The 31st Trick-or-Treater

Up until 7:31 P.M., it’s a normal Halloween in the neighborhood of Maple Creek.
Trick-or-treaters and their bobbing flashlights parade up and down the HOA-maintained sidewalks.
Young moms and dads film iPhone videos of their toddlers dressed up like Bluey and Bingo, Spin and Ghost Spider, Elsa and Anna.
Older kids are costumed to scare, masquerading as wasteland ghouls, Cordyceps zombies, and Art the Clown.
The air is chilly enough that the moseying parents are wearing jackets, but for the kids, it’s that wonderfully perfect temperature where the exertion of Halloween joy keeps them warm.
Outside Maple Creek, trick-or-treaters have largely abandoned the Richmond area’s residential streets. A nationwide celebration of the spooky has diminished into sporadic participation.
But here in this used-to-be-affordable neighborhood, parents share with their children the same Halloween fun they had as kids.
There’s only one adult Halloween party scheduled in Maple Creek this year—Betty and Tim Witt have invited a few neighbors and work friends.
For most of the three hundred and twenty-three homes in Maple Creek, Halloween is 100% about the kids.
Of course, after the kids are in bed, plenty of the grown-ups plan to relax in front of a scary movie.
Or the more daring will join the teenagers to get shepherded through the old elementary school, which can be reached from Maple Creek via a short walk through the woods. For the first time, the Chester brothers have transformed Old Pine Elementary into the fun and terrifying Crimson Corridors haunted attraction. Butterflies dance in parents’ stomachs—those who aren’t so sure about what they’ve signed up for. But for now, they’re following their little princesses and ninjas and superheroes from house to house. Candy is filling up pillowcases and pumpkin buckets. Shrieks of joy are echoing between the namesake trees of the neighborhood.
Yes, it’s safe to say that up until 7:31 P.M., Maple Creek is still a neighborhood that knows the happiness of Halloween.
* * *
At 7:25 P.M., Bob finally gives in to his two-year-old’s begging to be carried.
Her McDonald’s ghost bucket is full of candy, her purple Asha dress is dragging on the sidewalk, and her feet are tired.
“Come on up, Emily,” Bob says, wishing he’d brought the stroller.
Emily’s older brother and sister still have enough energy to walk, but after more than an hour of trick-or-treating, Optimus Prime and Elphaba are dragging their feet.
At the corner of the block, Bob’s middle daughter looks down the street and squeals in excitement. One house is decorated in a Nightmare Before Christmas theme, including a 12-foot-tall Jack.
That movie is Mary’s current obsession.
“There’s Sally!” She hops up and down, pointing to a yard decoration behind the Pumpkin King, a plastic version of the wide-eyed reconstructed corpse who helps save Christmas and Halloweentown. “Come on!” Mary shouts. “Let’s trick-or-treat that house!”
Mary grabs her brother’s hand, but Sam is worn out. He jerks his arm back.
“It’s too far away. I want to go home and count my candy.”
“Come with me,” Mary whines. She’s always been timid, and Sam usually takes pride in holding her hand through moments of nervousness. Not tonight, apparently.
Bob considers reprimanding Sam, but he wants Mary to practice going after what she wants, even when it scares her. In this case, it’s only to go see a Halloween yard display of a movie she likes, but still—if it’s only nervousness holding her back, then Bob wants her to go.
A gaggle of middle school kids runs from porch to porch, skipping the sidewalk to maximize candy-getting time. They approach the Nightmare Before Christmas house, ring the doorbell, and receive candy from a man dressed as Santa Claus.
Mary’s face lights up as she hears their laughter. “I’m gonna go trick-or-treat there,” she tells her dad.
“Stay off the grass.” Bob watches his daughter run down the sidewalk, candy bucket in one hand, the other outstretched for balance. Pride wells inside him that she’s pushing past her nerves.
He walks behind Mary, carrying Emily and dragging Sam.
Mary cuts up the house’s driveway, slows to gawk at Jack and Sally, and then marches up the steps to ring the doorbell.
There she is, Bob’s brave little witch, standing on a stranger’s porch, waiting for Santa to bring her candy.
Halloween is a strange holiday, but nothing makes Bob so happy as witnessing his kids grow.
Sam tugs on Bob’s arm, distracting him from the image of Mary waiting patiently in her black dress and pointy hat.
“I want to go hoooome,” Sam whines.
Bob looks down to tell his oldest to be patient.
When he looks back up, Mary is gone.