Halloween: The Night of all Nights

Elias Sullivan had it all: looks, power, and money. But, he was arrogant and cruel. He thought it would just be another day at the bank, but an unusual encounter with a little old woman would turn his world upside down. Turn your back on humanity, cross the wrong person, and this too could be your fate. Free Preview: Sullivan rolled his eyes and went into his office to wait. He didn't have to wait long. At precisely four fifteen, his office door opened and the old woman entered. He glared at her as she made her way to the chair. She said, "A gentleman stands when a lady enters a room" "When I see a lady, I'll stand" he responded. He certainly was not going to have someone who didn't know how to dress herself teaching him manners. She ignored the insult and said, "I am here regarding the matter of my granddaughter's mortgage. Her name is Shaniqua Lee" Sullivan typed her name into his computer and read the results. "She is behind one month's rent, and there are penalties for being late. She needs to have twelve hundred dollars on my desk by the close of business Monday or she and her possessions will be out on the street at the start of business Tuesday" The old woman responded, "Those 'possessions' are ages five and two and a half! The money will be here Friday, and then she can pay you what she owes-plus the next two months' rent. Can't you wait" Sullivan said, "She knew the terms when she signed the lease. So I guess the answer . . . is no" "For heaven's sake, it's only five days" she said in an elevated voice. "I gave you my answer" "I'm warning you-you'd better reconsider" "You're 'warning' me" he said with a chuckle. "Are you telling me that you would throw babies out in the street" "Babies" responded Sullivan calmly, "are not my business. Money is my one and only business" The old woman stood up in anger. She said, "I have tried to deal with you in a calm and practical manner, but you will not yield. What com

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HALLOWEEN: THE NIGHT OF ALL NIGHTSBy DM FLEXERAuthorHouseCopyright © 2013 DM FlexerAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4918-0929-7ContentsChapter 1..................................................................5Chapter 2..................................................................10Chapter 3..................................................................21Chapter 4..................................................................34Chapter 5..................................................................55Chapter 6..................................................................74Chapter 7..................................................................85Chapter 8..................................................................90Chapter 9..................................................................94Chapter 10.................................................................101Chapter 11.................................................................107 CHAPTER 1Friday, October 31, 20"Sir, may I have a raise?" asked Roberta Connors, ahardworking employee of Sullivan Savings and Loan.Elias Sullivan slowly looked up from his importantpapers to his insignificant employee. Her deep browneyes met his steel-gray soulless ones. His eyes sent ashiver down Connors's spine, but she straightened herback and tried to look strong. His eyes weren't the onlycharacteristics of Sullivan that were intimidating. He wastall and well built. His face was stone cold. His hair wasblack, and there were traces of white hair at his temples.This made him appear distinguished, yet your stomachwould have churned if you had seen him. He would havebeen handsome if it were not for his personality andattitude toward life."Raises are awarded to those who earn them," he said in acondescending manner."But I have earned it, sir," she pleaded."I've seen nothing in your work this past year to merit araise, but if you feel I am ... mistaken, please write downin detail what you feel has been your exemplary work. I willreview it at my earliest convenience."Roberta Connors was well aware that even if she wrotedown her accomplishments, he would never acknowledgethem as being anything but ordinary and not deserving of araise. She held her head high as she turned to exit the room.He returned his attention to his papers. She abruptly facedhim one more time."Please, sir," she said with urgency in her voice. "It's notjust for me that I require the raise. As you may know, myhusband is out of work, and we are trying desperately to raisemoney for our daughter's surgery.""Your family's situation has no bearing on this bank orme." He didn't even look up from his papers.She wiped a tear from her eye as she left Sullivan andreturned to her teller's booth. The expression on her face toldthe other tellers exactly how the conversation went."The skinflint refused to part with his precious pennies?"asked Lisa Morgan, Roberta's good friend and coworker.Lisa was in her mid-fifties and had pale green eyes andgraying light brown hair. She always had a kind word to sayand a smile on her face. She had the kind of laugh that madeothers laugh simply from hearing it. She knew the heartachethat Roberta was going through and was always present tolend a hand or lift her spirit.Roberta pushed her long brown hair out of her eyes andlooked imploringly at her good friend. "I just don't knowwhat I'm going to do," she said."Well, the first thing we are not going to do is give uphope," said Lisa. "We still have the spaghetti fund-raiser thisSunday, and the radio station agreed to give us free ads for it."Roberta smiled at her friend and gave her a big hug."Get back to work!"The women jumped apart as Sullivan glared at hisemployees. Lisa went back and sat down at her workstation.Sullivan walked over to the bank's only loan officer, MiltonMousler.Milton Mousler was in his late forties, with dull bluewatery eyes and a pointed noise. He wore thick glasses, andwhen he spoke, it always sounded like whining. He wasdisliked almost as much as Sullivan was. He was the officekiss-up and snitch, and the tellers laughed at him behind hisback. They would say, "If Mr. Sullivan were to stop short, allthat would be left of Milton would be his wingtip shoes!"Mousler was vying for the position of vice president,which Sullivan had recently created. Sullivan had beenrunning the bank on his own for five years. Feelingoverworked and tired, he wanted to decrease hisworkload.The rodent-like man stood up as Sullivan made his wayover."This is a place of business, Mr. Mousler. Not grouptherapy. The tellers are to be professional at all times. I won'tneed to bring this up again, will I?""Um ... N-n-n-no, sir," said Mousler as he rubbed hishands together anxiously. "I'll see to it that they remainprofessional at all times."Mousler walked over to reprimand Lisa and Roberta. Ashe ranted, Lisa and Roberta rolled their eyes. Not wanting tohear Mousler's whiny voice, Sullivan walked out of the bank.He had to go to his lunch meeting with other bank executivesanyway.On the way to his black Cadillac, Sullivan stopped toadmire his bank. It was an impressively large structure, withsix large columns in the front and windows high above. Theroof was a triangular shape and had a large marble plaque thatread sullivan savings and loan.Joseph would have been proud, thought Sullivan.He was startled out of his admiration for the building by araspy, almost-gasping voice."Mr. Sullivan?"CHAPTER 2Sullivan looked around as though not sure the noise wasreal. However, standing before him was an old black woman.He took a few steps back to get a better look. She was clearlyin her eighties or nineties, and she was dressed in what heperceived as a most outlandish costume. She wore a brightyellow-and-red turban on her head and a bright red shawlover a long black dress. She carried a carpetbag over her arm;it appeared to be moving."A bit old for trick-or-treating, aren't you?" he sneered.The old woman ignored the slur about her appearance."Are you Mr. Joseph or Mr. Elias Sullivan?""My brother, Joseph, has been dead for the past fiveyears.""Ah," she said."If you have business with the bank, please inquirewithin," he said as he motioned toward the building. "I'm latefor a meeting and must go now.""My business is with you," she said in a stronger voice.Annoyed, he said, "Then make an appointment with theloan officer, Mr. Mousler, and he'll see where he can fit youin.""My business is with you ... now!""Then you should have called for an appointment sooner!Good day, madam." Before she could respond, he got into hiscar and drove away.The elderly woman went into the bank and scheduled anappointment with Sullivan for later that day. When she felt herstomach grumble, and she decided to pay a visit to the local dinerthat she had noticed when she came to town. As she walked tothe diner, she felt unusually cold. The temperature was fifty-twodegrees, but she wasn't accustomed to it. She was from NewOrleans, Louisiana, and was used to a warmer climate. Shecontinued down Main Street until she reached the diner.The entire diner was decorated for the holiday, with paperspiders hanging from the ceiling and paper ghosts on the wall.As she stepped inside, a hostess greeted her warmly."Hello! Happy Halloween," said the hostess with glee.The old woman nodded as a response. The hostess led hercustomer to a table and sat her down. She handed a menu tothe old woman."We are short handed today so I will be your server. May Istart you off with coffee?""Please," the old woman responded.As the hostess left to get the coffee, the old womanexamined the menu. When the hostess returned, she broughtthe beverage and then proceeded to take out a notepad andpen."What would you like, ma'am?""I'd like to have your Senior Special number two.""Excellent choice. Did I note a Southern accent?"The old woman smiled at the hostess. "N'awlins!" she saidwith pride."Oh, I've always wanted to go there! I've heard it's sucha lovely place to visit. May I come back and speak with youabout it after I place your order?""Certainly, child."The hostess smiled and blushed at being called a child.She was in her forties but looked younger than her age. Shewas a fine-looking woman who kept herself in good shape.She had light brown eyes that sparkled, shining even brighterwhen she smiled. She had her shoulder-length brown hairpulled up in a bun.The hostess returned after placing the order, and she satdown with the old woman. "Oh, by the way my name isBarbara, but you can call me Babs," she said."Babs?""It's a nickname my mom gave me when I was littlebecause I never stopped talking," Babs laughed.The old woman smiled. "You have a most gentle soul."Babs gave the old woman a surprised look. The oldwoman just continued to smile."I can tell you what kind of soul a person has, just as Ican tell you about that Mr. Sullivan from the bank. His soul ispure evil ... Do you know him?"To the old woman's surprise, Babs looked sad. The oldwoman continued to look at her, waiting for a response."Oh, yes," Babs finally said. "I do know him ... or ratherI did know him ... or I thought I knew him."The old woman could sense that Babs wanted to say more."Tell me about him, child," she said.Babs began to speak. "He wasn't always evil."The old woman nodded in agreement. "That's not unusual.It can take a while to become that evil."Babs continued with her story, and when she finished, shewent to get the old woman's lunch.When she returned, the old woman spoke to her again."Sit with me again, child. There's no one else here, and yourbeautiful smile does more to warm my bones than this coffeeor soup."As Babs sat down, they both smiled at each other. Theold woman's expression turned serious as she explained herproblem."Now let me tell you why I'm here in New York. I came upto help my granddaughter. I was watching her young'uns whileshe was looking for a job. Her husband is in the marines and isdue to return in a month. Well, she just got a job and will starton Monday, but the mortgage is overdue and Mr. Sullivan isthreatening to throw them out. There was an error in her husband'spaycheck, and without her working, there wasn't enough to coverthe mortgage. The marines say that we will have the difference bythe end of next week, but Mr. Sullivan isn't willing to wait. So Iam going to meet with him later this afternoon to see if he can bereasoned with. After all, it's just five days."Babs's smile had disappeared, and a concerned expressionappeared on her face."Five years ago," said Babs, "I would have said that itwasn't a problem. I don't wish to discourage you, but ..."Babs wasn't sure what to say."What caused him to change?" asked the old woman."The death of his brother, Joseph.""Death can affect people in different ways. It sounds asthough he had unfinished business with Joseph."Babs's expression turned to one of confusion. "What doyou mean?"The old woman said, "I'm ninety-two years old and haveseen more death than I can remember. But I have made astudy of how people react to it. A change like you describedafter a death can only come from one thing: guilt.""But Eli adored Joseph! They got along well, and—"The old woman interrupted. "Mark my words. Somethinghappened between them."Babs nodded her head as though a small ray ofcomprehension had shined through. "No one could everexplain the change, but Lord knows ... people asked me."After Babs finished her sentence, the afternoon crowdstarted into the diner. "I have to go," said Babs. "This placeis crazy on Halloween night, but it was very nice to meet you.Good luck." Babs got up to seat the people who were cominginto the diner."Child?" said the old woman.Babs turned to face her acquaintance once more. The oldwoman had a questioning look on her face."Yes?" said Babs."Do you believe there is still a good man in Sullivan? Andif so, do you believe there is a chance he might change?"Babs thought for a moment and then looked hopefully atthe old woman. "I believe there is always a chance."As Babs left to wait on the new customers, the old womantook the leftover food and put it into her bag. The bag seemedto move in response to the food."I will feed you dinner when we get home, dear. But firstwe have to go meet the man at the bank."* * *Sullivan was driving down Route 20 as he returned toWestfield, a beautiful town off of Lake Erie. It was where hishome and bank were located. The air smelled of grapes, as thegrape farmers were bringing in a bountiful harvest.He was admiring the quaint historic houses as he droveinto town where his bank was. His feelings of contentmentchanged when he saw Halloween decorations on all thehouses."Idiots," he said aloud. "They're spending money on anoccasion that is pointless!"Sullivan hated Halloween. He also hated Groundhog'sDay, Valentine's Day, or any holiday that was, in his mind,just for fun. He didn't see the necessity of having fun. Funwas a waste of time and, consequently, money.He continued to ponder this as he pulled into the bank'sparking lot. When he turned off his car, he checked the timeand realized that it was four o'clock. He was slightly annoyedthat the meeting had taken so long. His annoyance grew whenhe realized that the elderly black woman would be making herway back to the bank.He quickly headed inside the bank and instructed Mr.Mousler that he was not to be disturbed."B-b-but, sir, you have an appointment at four fifteen witha strangely dressed little woman."Sullivan rolled his eyes and went into his office to wait.He didn't have to wait long. At precisely four fifteen, hisoffice door opened and the old woman entered.He glared at her as she made her way to the chair.She said, "A gentleman stands when a lady enters a room.""When I see a lady, I'll stand," he responded. He certainlywas not going to have someone who didn't know how to dressherself teaching him manners.She ignored the insult and said, "I am here regardingthe matter of my granddaughter's mortgage. Her name isShaniqua Lee."Sullivan typed her name into his computer and readthe results. "She is behind one month's rent, and there arepenalties for being late. She needs to have twelve hundreddollars on my desk by the close of business Monday or sheand her possessions will be out on the street at the start ofbusiness Tuesday."The old woman responded, "Those `possessions' areages five and two and a half! The money will be here Friday,and then she can pay you what she owes—plus the next twomonths' rent. Can't you wait?"Sullivan said, "She knew the terms when she signed thelease. So I guess the answer ... is no.""For heaven's sake, it's only five days!" she said in anelevated voice."I gave you my answer.""I'm warning you—you'd better reconsider!""You're `warning' me," he said with a chuckle."Are you telling me that you would throw babies out inthe street!""Babies," responded Sullivan calmly, "are not mybusiness. Money is my one and only business."The old woman stood up in anger. She said, "I have triedto deal with you in a calm and practical manner, but you willnot yield. What comes next I do not do lightly, but you havebrought this upon yourself!"As she spoke, she reached into her bag. Sullivan put hishand next to the emergency button under his desk, unpreparedfor what came next.CHAPTER 3Sullivan sat in his chair, frozen with astonishment. The oldwoman had pulled from her bag an albino python that was sixto eight feet long, and its blood-red eyes seemed to glow andlook through him. She placed the snake around her neck asshe spoke."Je vous jure ..."Sullivan could not hear the rest of the chant because a loudbuzzing noise assaulted his ears. It sounded as if a thousandangry wasps were in his head. He would have grasped hisears in pain, but he was frozen where he sat. It was like beingparalyzed. His skin felt so hot that he thought it would meltoff the bone. Everything in the room began to turn the sameblood-red color as the snake's eyes ..."M-M-Mr. Sullivan?"A light rapping at his office door startled Sullivan outof the trance. He looked around for the old woman, but shewas gone. It took a few seconds for Sullivan to regain hiswherewithal, but he was able to answer Mousler."What?"Mousler poked his rodent-like head through the door."E-Everything is secure, sir.""What?""Everything is secure for the night, sir."Sullivan examined his clock and realized that it was fivefifteen. An hour had passed."M-Mr. Sullivan?""Fine! Fine! Go!"He waved his hand dismissively, and Mousler left in ahurry, closing the door behind him. Sullivan sat in his office,the only noise being the ticking of the clock. That's when hefelt his hands cramping with pain from gripping the arms ofhis chair. When he heard Mousler close the door to the bank,Sullivan stood up from his chair."What the hell happened!"He paced his office, wondering if he was going mad. Didsome little old lady actually have a snake in her purse? DidI have a seizure or a stroke—or am I just going crazy? Hecontinued to pace, searching for some kind of clue to confirmor deny what had actually occurred. After a while, he gave up."This is crazy," he said aloud. "What am I looking for, asnake scale?"He began to leave the office. As he reached the door, heturned to glance around once again. The room had alwaysbrought him comfort and security, yet he couldn't wait to getout. He locked the bank's outer doors and headed to his car,muttering to himself, "I really need a drink." (Continues...)Excerpted from HALLOWEEN: THE NIGHT OF ALL NIGHTS by DM FLEXER. Copyright © 2013 DM Flexer. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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