It Was a Dark Halloween Night…

Growing up, very few kids lived on our country road in Elma. For trick-or-treaters willing to make the trek, Halloween brought full-sized candy bars and mini cans of pop. To a seven-year-old with an appetite, this was the coolest thing ever.

But Halloween meant something else on that little rural road. It was the one night a year we threw caution to the wind and approached Mrs. Simon’s house.

Mrs. Simon. To this day, that name sends chills down my spine. She was terrifying, definitely the scariest 80-year-old I had ever encountered.

Mrs. Simon had only three fingers on her left hand. Legend said that shortly after the birth of her son, she cut her fingers off in an attempt to avoid caring for him (holy creepy cow). That’s right, she was an 80-year-old with eight fingers and a knife.

My blood pounded as our car slowly made it’s way down the road. I trembled as the tires turned onto Mrs. Simon’s gravel driveway. I can still hear the crunching sound, like bones in a vise. What if she has a vice? I thought.

My mother shooed us out of the car with a reminder to be polite. Making the approach with my sisters, I thought desperately of our escape options. What if she had a weapon? What if she pulled me inside?

Somewhere amid the terror and melee that accompanied us on the short path to her door, I was firmly shoved in front of my big sisters: the martyr, the sacrificial lamb, the bratty little sister they could certainly live without.

They pushed me up the two soggy steps of her porch. “Do it!” I heard. I could feel my eyeballs throbbing with terror as I softly rapped my knuckles on the glass.

No one answered.

“Let’s go!” I said, backing into them just as the main porch light flicked on. I watched in horror as the door inched open, bracing myself for the butcher knife.

“What do’ya want?” she said in her terrifyingly old, raspy and rusty voice. In my fear-induced stupor I stood there, speechless (rare, very rare).

“Trick or Treat,” someone said limply. She looked at us for a moment then motioned to us with her three, lone fingers.


And she left. To get the knife!  Of this I was sure.

I don’t know what held me in place (other than my big sisters) as I waited for her villainous return. When the door once again creaked open, I felt panic hit my throat and stick, and in an attempt at self-preservation, I shut my eyes and thrust my arms out to ward off the imminent slashing—

Plop. Plop. Plop.

She dropped three pennies into my candy sack and shut the door.

I know what you’re asking. Poisonous pennies, perhaps?

We’ll never know.


VOTE for THIS STORY! Or my sister’s (which is really good). Visit  crash-n-sewl to read the top frightmare entries and CAST YOUR VOTE.


  1. It is wrong if I wanna be the Mrs. Simon of my neighborhood when I grow up? Except I’d like to keep all 10 fingers if it’s all the same to you.

  2. Perhaps the 3 pennies were symbolic of her 3 missing fingers?
    Funny story 🙂
    Have a great Halloween with your 3 little monsters…

  3. Has anyone ever told you should be a writer? 🙂

  4. annie valentine says:

    And that is why I love Kristina.

  5. Mrs. Simon, she still scares me. Mom made us go to her on Halloween also. Why is that? I’ll never forget when Troy Dougherty tried to turn around in her driveway and hit her gate post with the Dougherty’s big red van. The whole time we were trying to back out of the post and the driveway I was certain she’d come screeching off that porch (with it’s lone lightbulb) with her legendary knife, kinda Psycho-esqe.

  6. Great story!

  7. Loved it. I wish we’d had a creepy lady in our neighborhood, then I would have a fun story. I voted!

  8. I read this in The Vidette on Thursday & was tempted to drive up that road to see if the place was still creepy and take my kids there.

  9. I gotta go vote now. Will they let me vote for both Jen and you, or are they going to make me pick favorites? Also, I would like to get cans of pop tonight. Which reminds me, someone told me that Donny Osmond gave out king sized candy bars, which is why I went there once. It was a total lie.

  10. I don’t know which one is better, yours or Jen’s. Mrs Simon sounds like a creepy lady but you’re up against Bigfoot. What if they were to combine and have the evilest child in existence? You could call it Snaglefoot or somethin’ or another. .
    (I’m so tired I don’t even know if this is making sense to anybody. It was great talking to you. You have adorable children, and so I’m in full support of you joining forces with your husband and you both having another one and you can call it Camille. FYI-in France boys and girls carry that name.)

  11. PMPIF That’s peeing my pants in fright.

    You’re coming to see me Monday. Yippeee!

  12. Oops! I had your button on my blog but it stopped working so I just got another one-sorry! I hope I win one!

  13. Loved your story, got me totally remembering my childhood, no lady with 3 fingers but definately an old mean lady with long hair and an even longer nose! Don’t remember the warts but I am sure they were there.

  14. Such a good story! You have such a way with words, I wish I could do that! 🙂