All Hallows Eve by Terry LeFeber

It was Halloween and approaching midnight. No one ever came to the apartment complex for trick or treat.  Not even the few youngsters that lived at the end of the quarter mile sprawl of buildings. Fifteen hundred apartments in a square where everyone was a stranger.

The old man sat in the dark sucking on a Bacardi Rum and Coke staring at the boob tube. For the past two hours he had watched infomercials soliciting viewers to purchase first, Dean Martin TV shows with famous guest stars like John Wayne, and now, Time Warner’s offer of the Hee-Haw series starting back in 1969.

He sat there, stretched out in his Lazy Boy, Rum and Coke in his left hand, his right hand stroking the old cat sleeping in his lap.

Tears welled in his eyes as he watched the infomercial with Roy Clark urging him to call the 800 number to purchase the entire series for only five payments of $ 19.95 each, shipping included.  The tears were not from thinking about the prices. The tears were because of the memories the last two hours of programming had brought forth. For him, memories of better times. Times when he had family, friends, a career, a home to go to every night where he was safe, and loved.

That was all gone now. Just like the stars of those old programs, most of his friends and family were gone. Of those who remained, few communicated anymore.  He heard from his sons and grandchildren maybe two or three times a year, if he was lucky.  Everyone had their own world and the demands that it made upon them.  The concept of family, even extended family, was a thing of the past, suppressed by the new culture of modern society.

Conway Twitty was now singing “Hello, Darlin’. It’s been a long time.” He felt a twinge as he remembered all those he had loved, the two women he had married, and a few he wished he had. How he wished he could return to those old times.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time,” the old man sighed as he flipped the TV off and pushed himself out of the chair. The cat jumped to the floor.

It was pitch dark in the apartment as he padded his way across the living room towards the bedroom.  He felt his bare foot come down on the cat’s golf ball, then his legs going out from under him as fell backwards onto the floor.

He never saw the golf ball propel itself upwards, striking the ceiling, and hurtling downward. Nor did he feel the pain it brought as it struck his forehead with a crack.

What he saw next was John Wayne standing in front of him, right hand extended, saying, “Hello Partner, it’s been a long time. C’mon in and set a spell.”