Malcolm - Spooky Season

Piercing screams erupted through the alleyway as children scattered. Candy fell from jostled baskets, while masks were trampled in the stampede. One child climbed on anothers back simply to escape the clomping horror behind them. The sound of a spine cracking echoed as a bone horse peeked around the corner, its red eyes glowing as smoke was snorted from wet and thick nostrils. A small child, dressed as a knight, threw her plastic sword at the creature before ducking into a hole in the wall. One that would lead to the graveyard where the dancing skeletons were waiting.

Next to me, Malcolm snorted.

“You get a lot of enjoyment out of scaring small children,” I told him.

The skeleton horse began backing up, the creaking wheels echoing through the now quiet alleyway. Several Night Market denizens pulled it back, waiting for the next batch of children to begin wandering down the alley, unassuming.

“I don’t get amusement out of scaring small children. I get amusement out of seeing my art come to life.”

Malcolm had created the zombie horse and maybe had put a little too much effort into it considering it was for a children's event. The bones of the horse looked rotted and festering, while flesh dripped down along its ribs. He even scented the torn skin so the smell of sulfur permeated the alleyway. It was an effort to put it up on wheels, considering the thing was taller than even Gabriel. It took six of us to secure it. But with the green mood lighting of the lanterns and the smoke that he had hooked up inside the horse's head, it may have been well worth it.

I still thought it was all born more of Malcolm enjoying seeing children run in fear from his monster creations.

We sat on top of the alley wall, overlooking the event. I could see the flickering lights from a few alleys down and the bright lights of another one where apple bobbing was taking place. “I didn’t know you could do things like that,” I told him, gesturing towards the horse as it was disappearing into the dark of the alley.

“I used to make monsters all the time. Hazel would try to make them come to life. They destroyed Lucinda’s spell book once. It was maybe the best day of my life.”

I raised a brow towards him. I was surprised that it had ended in a happy memory. “Why’d you stop? The monster making. Not the spell book destruction.”

He looked at me with that familiar quirk of his lip. “Because I became too cool to be making things like monsters to entertain my little sister.” I could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. “Come on, Lamplight. Figure model class was where it was at to pick up a good time.”

I shoved him, watching as his smile broke fully from his half grin. Scooting towards him, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, resting my head on his shoulder. “See a lot of nude models then?” I teased.

“Actually, yes. But unlike some of the others in my classes, I was actually there to draw.”

I leaned back. “You took classes?”

“Did you think I was all self-taught?”

Yes, actually. I was unaware that Malcolm had even gone to school. He didn’t speak of his past often. The best I could gather was that he had been into some pretty shady stuff when he was first on his own. Hazel had hinted that she had to patch him up more than once and I had overheard a story once where Milo had to carry a bleeding Malcolm back home.

“There was a minotaur that taught art,” he explained. “I took it at first as a joke. Because I really was that shit kid that thought no one could teach me anything. Especially someone with hooves for hands. First day of class, I walked in, handed my portfolio over to the teacher with this kind of expectation that he would graduate me right then and there. He handed it back to me and told me I was pretty good for an amateur.”

I winced. “That didn’t sit well with you, I take it.”

“No,” he laughed. “I actually fought that man on it. Told him to look again. Told you, Lamplight. I was a different person back then, and I had a chip on my shoulder about a mile wide.”

“You stuck with the class, though.”

“I did. Mr. Rublio was probably the best teacher I ever had.”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know. Lost contact with him and haven’t heard of him since coming back. Probably for the best. He would be disappointed I wasn’t using my talent more.”

Another group of kids began walking down the alleyway, talking and dancing around each other. There was a snort from behind them and from the shadows, the red eyes of the horse glowed. One by one, the children quieted down, looking at the beast that came rolling out of the dark, its mouth opening to show large bone teeth, sharpened to a point. The children began to scream as the dead horse advanced forward and once again, pandemonium descended the market with candy flying and toy weapons being thrown.

Malcolm was grinning.

“I don’t know,” I told him, holding his hand. “I think Mr. Rublio would be pretty impressed that you made something like that.”

He tipped his head to rest against my own. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I do.”

We watched the children scramble to get inside the graveyard passage. One tripped so hard that their shoe flung up and hit the horse in the eye. It got stuck there, giving an interesting visage to the prop. I was curious to see what else we would collect through the night.

“Yeah,” Malcolm breathed, eyes shining as he watched the horse get dragged back, waiting for another round. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

I squeezed his hand tight, the two of us sitting in contended silence as we waited for more trick or treaters to scare.