It had been a slow Thursday at Gables, and I was counting the minutes until I could turn off the “open” sign. Sometimes it amazes me how exhausting it can be to sell overpriced accessories all day. We move more scarves and hair clips than fine leather handbags, but like all the boutiques in our upscale shopping center, we look fancy, and that’s what counts. I’d already tidied the displays and was waiting to lock up and count out the register.

I admit I was annoyed when a regular customer showed up five minutes before closing, but I knew she was a big spender, so I sighed and let her come in. And yes, she purchased two purses and half a dozen other things that evening, so it was worth it from a sales perspective. But I sometimes wonder how different my life would be if I had a slightly less conscientious work ethic. Maybe if I had closed ten minutes early or turned her away, nothing would have changed that night. Or maybe it was fate. I’ll never know.

Forty-five intensive hands-on minutes later, I finally sent the customer on her way and got a late start on my closing procedures. I counted out, made sure the credit card printout matched the register, and emptied the waste bins. I was thinking about cooking a stir fry for dinner as I popped out the shop’s back door, but as I tossed the lightweight trash bag into the dumpster, I heard an enraged bellow.

I whipped around to locate the sound and stopped in my tracks when I saw the source. Two monsters, for lack of a better word, appeared to be having a shouting match in the middle of the street behind the shopping center.

The creatures were about seven or eight feet tall, and built more like humongous, shuffling mounds than bipedal humans. They had multiple tentacle-like limbs and way more eyes than you’d expect. I could clearly see the razor-sharp teeth filling their wide mouths as they howled at each other. Their strident tones sounded like language – like an argument with words I couldn’t quite make out. One mound began to flap a tentacle at the other in accusation. Yep. This was definitely an argument. At that point, I was more stunned than alarmed, at least until the other mound wrenched a door off a Subaru parked nearby. It began to wave the door in the air with one of its (apparently incredibly strong) tentacles. This only enraged the first mound-monster to new levels of volume in its shouting.

I was standing there with my mouth hanging open when the back door of Hidden Dimensions, the shop two doors down, burst open. They sell bougie gift items, like artisanal incense and handcrafted candles – but elegant, not crunchy. I’d been in there a few times, so I recognized the lady who strode out into the employee parking area, her fluffy henna-red hair bouncing with each step. I thought she was probably the manager. She seemed to be making a beeline directly for the feuding mound-monsters, which snapped me out of my daze.

I ran up to her. “Wait, stop! Don’t you see what’s happening over there?” I squeaked.

She stopped abruptly and gave me a skeptical look. “Of course I do. That’s why I came out here. The real question is, why are you seeing this? Hold on.” She motioned me out of her way and resumed her course toward the monsters.

“If you can see those… those things, why are you going toward them?” I trailed after her to the edge of the parking lot. I wasn’t sure what a safe distance would be.

The woman glanced back. “Stay there! Let me take care of this.”

She fearlessly approached the still-fighting pair, hands on her hips like a disappointed schoolmarm. She cleared her throat. “What did Arthur tell you the last time this happened?”

Both mound-monsters immediately went silent. The one who had been brandishing the car door gently set it on the ground. In English, it said, “I can explain, Brenda.” Despite its gruff tones, it sounded almost sheepish.

The other mound-monster swayed a bit, blinking its many eyes, and tried not to meet Brenda’s unwavering gaze.

“I bet you can,” Brenda said. “But you know the rules.”

Someone driving a red Toyota sedan exited the parking garage attached to the office building across the street and turned right toward Brenda and the mound-monsters. The driver didn’t honk or start screaming in terror, either of which might have been a reasonable response to this particular obstruction in the roadway. He simply executed a tidy three-point turn and started driving the opposite way. Did he not see the now-chastened monsters in the middle of the street? Or did he see them so often that he no longer cared?

Brenda pitched her voice too low for me to hear what she was saying, but her angry disappointment was evident as she motioned wildly with her hands. The mound-monsters’ heads drooped, and they shuffled back and forth like children being scolded.

As I strained to hear the conversation, a woman walking a Dachshund came around the corner. She barely glanced up from her phone, though her dog started barking as soon as it noticed the giant creatures in the street. “What has gotten into you?” The woman groused, yanking on the leash.

Brenda stopped mid-tirade and looked toward the misbehaving canine. She pointed a single finger in its direction and muttered, “Hush!”

The Dachshund stopped barking like a switch was flipped, though it continued to turn nervous eyes toward the mound-monsters until they were out of sight.

“Reggie’s already on the way to fix the Subaru you just trashed,” Brenda said, nudging the car door with her sensible shoe. “You owe them a big favor now.”

“We know,” one of the mound-monsters said. “Sorry.”

Brenda said one last thing that I couldn’t catch, and made a “go on” motion. One of the mound-monsters pulled open a sewer grate and made a “you first” gesture with one of its other tentacles. I watched them both shimmy inside and disappear.

Brenda trotted back up to the service area behind the shopping center. “Those two have rotten tempers, and even a tiny disagreement can get out of hand. More bark than bite, obviously. They don’t mean anything by it, and they don’t harm humans. On purpose,” she amended.

“Nobody else saw them,” I said, staring blankly at the sewer grate. I think I was in shock. “That guy in the car just… turned around. Only the dog saw them! And us. Wait, why do they know you?”

“It’s a long story,” Brenda said, dusting her hands together. “Why don’t you go back inside and forget all about this? You probably will, anyway.”

“How could I forget THAT?” I gestured helplessly toward the street.

“It’s easy enough for most people,” Brenda snorted. “If it’s too far out of the ordinary, they won’t notice. If they do notice, they’ll pretend they didn’t. Or they’ll stand there watching, all slack-jawed, but later they’ll talk themselves into believing it was only a hallucination – if they ever think of it again in the first place. The inertia of normality has a terrible pull. Mostly, they go home and forget that anything unusual occurred. I expect you’ll do the same thing.”

I was offended by her assumption, but I was also dying of curiosity. “Are those mound-monsters always here? I mean, behind the shopping center?”

Brenda laughed. “Mound-monsters! I’ll have to remember that one. Yes, they live under the office building across the street. Or rather, the office was built over their home. They were here first.”

“Are these mound-monsters everywhere, like all over the city?”

“They’re pretty territorial, so no. There are other pairs in the general area, but none close by. Why do you care?”

“How could I not care!” I flapped my arms. “Why did they listen to you? Who’s Arthur? Who’s Reggie? For that matter, who are you?”

“Shoo,” Brenda said. She headed back toward the service door of Hidden Dimensions. “Go home.”

I resented being dismissed as easily as a pair of monsters. “But what does it mean, Brenda?”

“It doesn’t mean anything at all if you don’t remember it,” she said with a mocking grin as she opened the door.

“What if I don’t forget?” I called out.

Brenda peered around the edge of the door and rolled her eyes. “Come and see me if you still remember tomorrow. But,” she taunted as the door shut, “you won’t!”

I wish you could have seen the look on her face when I walked into Hidden Dimensions at closing time on Friday evening and said, “Joke’s on you, Brenda. I remember everything. Can I get an explanation now?”

“Crap,” Brenda said with a sigh. “I knew I should have shoved you back inside your shop.”

She probably should have, but it was already too late.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this year’s Spooky Season series! I posted more fiction than I usually do, but I wrote a pile of short stories this year, and I wanted to share some of my favorites.

I know I say it every time, but please remember: October may be ending, but we can keep Spooky Season alive inside our hearts all year long. Happy Halloween! 🖤