“We hardly ever go out anymore!”
By John McGondel c. 2003

Susan pulled her Volvo into the driveway, just missing the trash cans full of trick or treat candy wrappers. She was still pumped up from the presentation which she had given earlier in the day, and couldn’t wait to tell Mark all about it. The board had been so receptive, and she had felt that she was at her peak of performance while describing her proposal. As she turned off the ignition she made a mental note to not go overboard about her day, so Mark would not become resentful as he had sometimes done in the past.

Even though it was the night before Halloween she hoped that he would feel up to going out someplace tonight, so she could celebrate her feelings of accomplishment. She was just so emotionally charged that she didn’t want to ever come down, and was floating as Mark opened the door for her and welcomed her into their happy little home. He had a bottle of champagne ready and was pouring them both glasses. Delighted at this unexpected yet very welcome turn, she gave him a big hug and a long kiss.

But not too long, she didn’t want him getting sidetracked.

“So I guess you heard about my presentation today huh?” Susan was all set to launch into her story but Mark gave her a puzzled look.

“Presentation? Oh was that today?”

She groaned inwardly and fought the urge to get mad at him, while remembering that he was just being his typically predictable, usual self.

“Yes it was, I have been rehearsing it for the last two weeks around here and we talked about it last night remember?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course I remember. How did it go?”

 “Wait a minute. If you weren’t celebrating my presentation, then what is the champagne all about?” It was her turn to look puzzled.

“Guess who got invited away for the weekend at the company chateau?”

“What? You mean…?”

“Yes, just the two of us. Remember that night we were telling each other about our fantasies?”

“You know I do.”

“Well, I set one of yours up for this weekend. And I got the boss to give us the use of the chateau for the next three days!”

“Which one?” Susan was able to at least temporarily subdue her resentment at not being able to vent her excitement.

“The only one the company owns for god sake Susan.”

“No you dope, which fantasy?” (Calm down girl, she told herself.)

“Oh. Well, that’s gonna have to stay a surprise.”

 “Not fair! You are a …”

 “Ta ta now, if you want to go we have to leave now. If you don’t…well…”

 Susan paused.

“Well anyway, I packed my car for us, and if you just pack a quick bag we can leave.”

She quickly balanced her feelings, processing at a speed which computers would envy. Excitement, disappointment, curiosity, arousal, and residual buoyancy. Her face showed nothing as she concluded that at least they wouldn’t be here for the trick-or-treaters; she also thought about how she was always nagging him with things like “We hardly ever go out anymore!”

“Can we use the hot tub?”

“Of course we can. It’s already warmed up and I gave the caretaker the weekend off. The bar is loaded, the fridge is stocked with your favorites, and all you will need to pack is a nightie and one change of clothes for the ride back.” He was grinning one of his smug and self-satisfying grins. Susan hated those, but they usually worked on her. She thought in passing that perhaps that was why she hated them, because of the fact that they worked on her.

 She spoke in a quick, crisp manner which didn’t quite mask the warmness she was beginning to feel. “Ok, you warm the car up and I’ll be right down.”

“Car’s running now, see you outside. Let’s go!”

The ride took just over an hour during which Susan could not get him to divulge anything about the fantasy. Not even which one it was. (After the second bottle of wine they had discussed a lot of them). The gravel driveway wound its way like a snake for about a mile till they were suddenly in the front yard of the chateau. Once inside, she realized that she had always marveled at its elegance; its restaurant quality kitchen, a banquet-style dining room, fire placed parlor, indoor pool, sauna, satellite dish, mini theater television, and luxurious bedroom suites. Susan shivered with sudden enthusiasm.

They had only been invited there four other times in the ten years that Mark had been working at the company. And never by themselves. It was really fit for royalty, she had always thought.

“Ok now, you just open us some champagne and I’ll get the stuff from the car.”

Susan nodded yes and walked towards the kitchen, already beginning to feel flushed with desire. She tried to ignore the full kitchen-knife set which was hanging in the center of the work area. She had never liked knives, and wouldn’t even use one in her own kitchen. Her father used to carve up rabbits and goats for meat and it had always bothered her since she was little.

She opened one of the many bottles of champagne and set it in an ice bucket. Then she made herself a quick double-martini while she waited. And waited. She finally grew restless and began wondering what the hell was keeping him. Another martini, then she decided to go out on the front porch to find him.

There was the car, the engine still running, still packed from the ride. But no Mark. That was odd. She wandered to first one side of the chateau then to the other. Nothing. Then she walked completely around the house, came to the front again, and went inside. Susan was beginning to feel a little troubled.

Then, as she raised the martini glass to her lips for the last sip, she heard a scream, and she froze. She stood there like a statue, glass two inches from her mouth, and then there was another scream, but this one was muffled-sounding and cut off in mid-scream. She started trembling, she had never had the stomach for stuff like this. Where was Mark? Was that Mark screaming? Her imagination began to run away with her and she felt herself starting to panic. Then she heard the sound of glass breaking upstairs and a loud thud.

She almost fainted then ran into the kitchen to grab a knife. As she reached for one her blood froze. The big butcher knife that had been hanging there a few minutes ago was gone. The empty spot where it should have been was more frightening to her than the knife itself had been. Then she heard loud steps coming down the stairs behind her in the other room. She forced back a scream of terror and ran toward the back door. But the door was locked and dead-bolted, and it required a key even from the inside. She was trapped. Where was Mark?

She heard the front door slam open and then she heard loud voices and the sounds of a struggle. It was Mark’s voice, he had come to rescue her.

Then she heard nothing but a groan, followed by nothing at all. Finally the sound of the front door opening and closing again, and footsteps running off. Mark must have scared the intruder away. She cautiously opened the kitchen door to the parlor and peeked through. She saw something on the floor. Unable to resist, like a moth drawn to a flame, she slowly approached the sofa. On the other side lay Mark, his stomach a bloody, gaping mess. Blood was still soaking into the carpet, and his eyes were looking at her. “I’m s s s s sorry…” was all he said and his eyes glazed over. Susan screamed and ran to the stairs in a nearly blind panic. She was controlled by the terror of the situation and was beyond reasoning. Mark. Dead. Life over. No hope. She climbed-stumbled up the stairs, all the while screaming mindlessly. At the top she ran into a bedroom and locked the door behind her, standing there gasping and shaking.

There was a noise behind her but she was too paralyzed with fear to turn. The window creaked and she wet her pants. She heard the sounds of a human animal’s grunting and panting and her knees weakened. She tried to steel herself for the death she knew was coming. Soon she would be with Mark again. Footsteps coming up behind her. A hand grabbed her shoulder and she readied herself to die. An arm reached around to her front, and it was holding the butcher knife, which was dripping with her dead husband‘s blood. Tears streamed down Susan’s face as she closed her eyes and waited, imagining the feeling of the big bloody knife ripping into her side. The hand on her shoulder pulled her to turn her around. Her eyes still closed she did as the hand ordered. She was facing her attacker and could feel his warm breath on her hot face. The attacker used the tip of the butcher knife to slice the top button from her blouse. Trembling with fear, her heart thumping out of her heaving chest, she made a choice to open her eyes and face her death.

The knife traced its way to her throat and she opened her eyes fully, and saw Mark staring at her with that goddamned grin of his.

“Trick or Treat. Scared ya huh?”

Susan fainted away.

When she woke up later in bed, eyes fluttering, she heard him through the dimness as he explained to her about which fantasy she had told him about. She had completely forgotten about her horror-fantasy, (and made a mental note to kill him in his sleep), as they finally had their first glass of champagne.

“Hey honey?”

“What?” she answered, still confusedly aroused.

“Here's to a Happy Halloween?”