It must have been Halloween. I’d got out of bed late at night and must have headed to the bathroom. I was wearing some kind of two-piece pyjamas. They might have even consisted of a horrible two-piece brown and white design with a buttoned down shirt. As I left the bathroom, there was a series of loud rattles coming from downstairs. Our porch wasn’t enclosed in those days so the letterbox fed straight into the house. The metallic flap started rattling and a voice called out ‘Trick or treat’ followed by a series of spooky laughs. All I remember in response is running straight back to bed and jump under the covers. I don’t remember anyone coming to comfort me. I suppose this is always why I’ve been reluctant to get out of bed at night. It could have been some kids canvassing for treats. It could have been my own father doing the spooky voice. The whole thing could have been a dream. It’s concerning that it’ a memory out of fear and not out of love. Maybe my happy memories are few and far between.
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