chapter 3

Halloween arrives a week later, and by some miracle I have avoided taking food from anyone. That is despite having it constantly shoved in my face. How? Pretty sure I’ve turned into a literal recluse, keeping my blinds closed and never leaving the house. With only an hour left until the Trick or Eat festivities begin though, that is no longer an option.

Reluctantly, I lay my costume out on the bed and begin putting it on. The black faux leather corset and matching leggings fit like a second skin, leaving barely enough room to breathe, let alone … eat. “Shit,” I exclaim looking myself up and down in my floor length mirror, memories of the muffins from hell flash through my mind. “I am so f*cked,” I say snatching the cat mask off my bed and placing it on my face.

Swallowing hard, I walk to the front door, grabbing the flyer and pumpkin bucket I picked up at the store on my way out. “How bad could it be, it’s just candy, right,” I try to reassure myself as I make my way down the sidewalk. Looking around, I realize I must have taken too long getting ready, because all of the fellow Trick or Eaters are several houses ahead of me.

“Just great,” I say, looking down at my map as I turn and make my way up the stairs of my first stop and knock on the door. Darren opens the door wearing a vampire costume, complete with white face and fake blood dribbling from his mouth. “Good evening Miss Emily, what will it be? Trick or Eat,” he asks. Putting on a fake smile, I look up at him and respond, “Eat.”

He smiles back then turns away from the door, grabbing what I expect to be a bowl of candy, but discover is a plate instead. On it sits a very large and very delicious looking slice of carrot cake and a fork. “Ummm, how am I supposed to …,” I start, looking from the plate in his hand to my pumpkin bucket. Laughing, he informs me that I’m not supposed to take it with me, that I’m supposed to eat it right there and then.

“Oh … okay,” I say, taking the plate and slowly bringing bite after bite to my mouth while he just stands there, staring up me with a creepy look that makes me feel a little dirty. The cake is so good though, that I’ve completely forgotten he’s there halfway through. I find myself moaning out as the bites make their way to my mouth faster and am more than a little disappointed that there isn’t more.

“Nope, we aren’t having a repeat of the muffin incident,” I mumble under my breath, passing the plate back to Darren with another fake smile before turning to make my way to the next stop. Looking down at the map, I see that there are nine more stops ahead of me. Thoughts of bites and calories float through my head, making me dizzy, as I struggle to figure out how I’m going to survive the night, let alone this costume.

“How bad could it be, it’s just small plates of dessert, right,” I try to reassure myself again. Turning, I make my way up the stairs of the second stop and knock on the door. Alexander, the Stepford Wife’s husband, opens it wearing a chef costume and holding a tray of huge muffins. “Let me guess, the Muffin Man,” I ask with the laugh.

“That’s right! I hope you enjoyed the muffins my wife brought over,” he responds, and I let him know that they were very delicious, leaving out that I attempted to throw them away, then ate them out of the garbage. “So, what will it be, Trick or Eat,” he asks. Looking at the muffins and swallowing a bit of vomit at the thought of where the last ones I ate came from, I respond, “let’s go with Eat.”

“I’m very happy to hear that Emily,” he says, then informs me that I am to eat one of each type of muffin (chocolate, blueberry, and poppyseed oh my!) before moving on to the next stop. “Of course, awesome,” I say picking up a chocolate one and slowly eating it while fidgeting under his constant stare. The more I eat, the more I once again forget that I am even being watched.

I eat my way through a blueberry muffin, then a poppyseed one next. As I swallow the last bite, I unconsciously find myself staring at the other muffins on the tray and reaching for one. Before I even realize what is happening, Alexander has slapped my hand rather hard. Pulling it back, I look up at him with confusion only to find him still smiling as if nothing happened at all.

I turn to go, rubbing my hand as I make my way down the sidewalk. “What the f*ck was that for,” I mumble, dumping the pumpkin bucket I obviously won’t be needing into one of the community trash cans. Looking down at the map, I realize the next stop is right in front of me. As I walk up the path and stairs my eyes remain fixed to a small table and chair, both decorated for Halloween.

“That can’t be good,” I mumble to myself as I knock on the door. When it swings open, I find myself face to face with Cathy, one of the community leaders, dressed in a devil costume. I laugh a little at how fitting it is, then offer up another fake smile as she asks the question I know is coming, “Trick or Eat.” Giving one last look at the table and chair, I decide to risk it, and respond with “Eat.”

She directs me to have a seat, the disappears, returning with a massive plate of homemade mashed potatoes drowning in gravy. As she sets it down, I contemplate changing my mind but find myself unable to. There is this inescapable need within me to eat it, the same one that made me eat muffins out of a garbage can. Resigned to my fate, I dig in, moaning out as I shove my face with bite after bite.

When the last spoonful hits my mouth, I look up at Cathy who I find watching me eerily. “These are the best potatoes I’ve ever had,” I tell her with the first genuine smile of the night. “I’m very happy to hear that Emily, would you like some more,” she asks. Both my mind and my mouth want to say no, but what comes out instead is a “yes please.”

Before I can come to my senses and change my mind, she puts another massive plate in front of me and I immediately begin to dig in, all the while ignoring her eyes on me and the gravy dribbling down my chin. My moans turn to groans as I feel myself getting fuller and fuller, my costume tighter and tighter. No matter how much I want to, I can’t stop eating. It is like the muffin incident all over again.

That thought snaps me out of my haze and I immediately drop my spoon to the plate only to find that I’ve already eaten it all. When I look up at Cathy, she begins to open her mouth, probably to ask me if I want more again. Not trusting myself to speak, I quickly thank her, pulling myself up out of the chair using the deck railing and stumble down the stairs.

Each step and breath is a struggle as I make my way down the sidewalk. Pausing in front of the next stop, I look from the door to my costume, then to the map in my hand which still shows seven houses to go. “This is impossible, I can’t eat anymore,” I say, half of me believing that to be true and the other half curious about what lies on the plates beyond this door.

“You can do this Emily,” I reassure myself, reaching down and undoing the bottom two clasps of my corset, giving my full stomach a bit of room before heading up the stairs. The door opens before I can even knock, revealing Oscar standing there in his cop uniform (which isn’t actually a costume, since he is one). When he opens his mouth to ask the dreaded question, I blurt out “Trick …” before my belly can say otherwise.