No Halloween This Year

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

Just a flash story.

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The bowl of candy was not on the small table next to the front door. Year after year, she would buy all the candies she loved and put the bowl right by the door, in preparation for the little goblins and ghosts and super heroes. Of course, she would 'sample' the candies throughout the day and Michael would also 'sample' the goodies throughout the day. That's why she always made sure to have Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in the selection.

The large wooden bowl had been one of the items she'd taken from her Grandmother's house after Nana had passed. Nana had perched that bowl on her cupboard, kept the candy apples in that bowl, ready for the ghosts and goblins that would come to her door happily shrieking 'Trick or treat!'

But there was no bowl next to the door. There would be no candy this year. She stepped into the kitchen, struck by how loud the refrigerator hummed, how loud the ancient schoolhouse clock ticked, its pendulum swinging slowly back and forth, back and forth. Tick-tic-tick.

The large bowl sat on top of the corner cabinet, its lip just visible over the ledge of the cabinet. She wondered if she should get it down, just in case Michael would decide to stop at the grocery store and buy some candy.

She shook her head. Michael would not buy candy; even though he raided the bowl every year, he always groused that it was a waste of money.

It had not been a waste of money. Seeing smiles on children's' faces; how could that be a waste of money?

"And when they had Karen...

One year, Karen was going to be a princess. No, no, Karen wanted to be a pirate. No, no, Karen wanted to be a ballerina. And she and Michael endured it all with smiles. They encouraged Karen's every whim.

She stepped to the back door and looked out onto their back yard. There was Karen's swing set. Looking at that gaily painted swing set, she smiled softly. In her mind's eye she could see Karen trying, trying oh so hard to reach the treetops with her swinging legs. Karen's long red hair would flow back, her hazel eyes would be wide, her mouth would be open as she tried, tried so hard to swing above.

As she stood and watched, a gentle breeze caused the swing to rock back and forth slowly. She cried out as she watched the ghostly swinging of the pink plastic seat.

Soon the swing came to rest again. Swiveling her head, she looked at the pool. That damned pool, that damned, miserable pool.

Michael had insisted on putting that pool into their back yard. He had wanted it, so of course, she had given in.

"I hope it was worth it, Michael," she snarled bitterly, abruptly turning away from the sliding glass door.

Slowly she made her way up the stairs. The frame was still up from the child's gate they'd installed when Karen was six months old. Both she and Michael were terrified Karen would crawl to the stairs' edge, then topple down. When Karen began walking, their fears were doubled, tripled that Karen would stagger at her haphazard pace, then take a fatal spill down the stairs.

Of course, when Karen got older, they took the gate down. But the brackets that had held the gate in place were still there.

Karen's bedroom had not been changed. She started to enter the room, but could not.

"I, I'm sorry, Karen," I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I hope it was worth it," Michael had thundered.

He'd been ignoring her. She'd tried time and time again to get him to pay attention to her; romantic dinners while Karen was next door at Mrs. Nettie's, waxing her pussy, sexy lingerie. They'd even gone skinny-dipping in the pool.

She strongly suspected part of the issue had stemmed from Karen coming into their bedroom while she and Michael were being intimate. She'd forgotten to lock the door. Michael had been horrified; apparently he had walked in on his parents and could not get that image out of his mind.

"Jesus, what? I'm thirty four. You expect me to be all hot and bothered like I'm twenty again?" Michael had snapped.

Requests to go to counseling had been a disaster. Michael refused to go tell some stranger all their problems. No, Michael wasn't about to do that; he had no problems. She, she was the one with the problems.

Feeling fat and old and ugly, even though she was only thirty one years old, she'd been ripe for the seducing. In truth, the landscaping man had not been any bigger than Michael. He had not been more skilled than Michael. But he did pay attention to the attractive blonde mom.

And, while she was upstairs, in her marital bed with another man, Karen was flailing helplessly in the pool, thrashing and being weighed down by her winter coat.

Michael was supposed to put the cover onto the pool; an early autumn chill meant they most likely wouldn't be using the pool again until summer.

She'd sent Karen out to play while she 'talked with the nice man.' She'd sent her child, her precious five year old Karen outside while she cheated on Michael.

Stepping into the bedroom, she let out a heartbroken sigh. There would be no Halloween this year. There would never be another Halloween.

Looking on the bed, the bed she'd been lying on while her daughter struggled, she could see the body lying on the bed. With one last look around at the mementoes and keepsakes and little Knick knacks they'd accrued over the years, she wondered if they'd have any meaning to Michael.

"No more Halloweens," She said, seeing the small handmade jack-o-lantern on the nightstand.

She and Karen had made that paper mache pumpkin, then painted it a bright orange.

"Do we make a happy jack-o-lantern? Or, do we make a scary one?" she asked.

Karen had insisted they make a happy one. The triangle eyes and the wide three toothed grin was in a stark black paint against the bright orange.

Michael's side of the bed was empty; he refused to sleep with her. He slept in the guest bedroom until he could find another place to live. She looked at the jack-o-lantern again.

"No more Halloweens," she repeated and looked at the body on her bed.

She had the empty pill bottle next to her. Still clutched in her hand was the bottle of cheap vodka.

"No more Halloweens," she said once more before being pulled into herself.

The End

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**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I sincerely thank you for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take a moment to rate my work, those that 'Favorite' my words.

There is no character from any other story making an appearance in this story.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.