Stillbridge – Episode 5: The Horribles Parade
October had wrapped Stillbridge in gold and crimson, the kind of sunlight that made the leaves seem almost magical. The air carried a crispness that hinted at bonfires and marshmallows, and, inevitably, a sense of mischief.
The Stillbridge Fire Department hosted the annual Horribles Parade, a tradition for the children, though the grown-ups enjoyed it as much for the stories afterward. Hose trucks gleamed in the late afternoon sun, ladders extended just so, and the firefighters practiced their “spooky fog” enough to create mild flair without terrifying anyone over seven.
Johnny, now ten and freshly emboldened from his recent scarecrow victory, had designed a costume that was half skeleton, half wizard, and entirely ambitious. His friends, Lucy and Ben, wore tiny ghosts and miniature vampires, while one youngster had stitched together a “walking pumpkin patch” requiring two reluctant younger siblings to carry.
The parade wound through Main Street, past Parker’s Diner where June Parker handed out miniature doughnuts with a knowing smile. “Eat fast,” she said. “They disappear quickly, mostly into your pockets.” At Higgins Hardware, Walt Higgins pretended not to notice children sneaking in for extra candy, though he shook his head. Miss Clarity Finch, ever vigilant, noted who had borrowed whose broomsticks and warned that late returns might cost a cup of sugar.
At the town common, a bonfire crackled, casting a golden glow on eager faces. Firemen supervised with pride, though one or two glanced nervously at sugar-fueled kids. Reverend Hastings and Pastor Whitmore exchanged glances; the churches of Stillbridge had never been sold on Halloween but tolerated it with decades of patient wisdom.
Johnny’s skeleton-wizard pirouetted around the fire, nearly tripping over the pumpkin patch. Lucy and Ben tried to keep pace, capes flapping. Meanwhile, the duck pond offered commentary: a single duck waddled onto the grass and quacked indignantly before returning to the water.
Nearby, Johnny, Lucy, and Ben set off on a secret mission: searching for the Great Pumpkin. They tiptoed among fallen leaves, shining flashlights under benches, behind the gazebo, and atop the small hill by the pond. “It has to be here somewhere,” Johnny whispered. Lucy squeaked at a shadow, only to discover it was Ben’s oversized cape. They crawled, peeked, and leaped at phantom orange shapes, finally sitting back on a log, giggling at their determination. “Maybe it’s waiting for next year,” Ben said. Johnny nodded. “Or maybe it’s watching us, laughing quietly.”
By twilight, the parade dissolved into gentle chatter. Children returned home sticky with chocolate, parents praised the town’s restraint, the searchers for the Great Pumpkin vowed to try again next year, and the firefighters congratulated themselves on a well-managed event.
Stillbridge had turned an ordinary October day into a story worth remembering: a parade of costumes, laughter, and the simple magic of a small town where even Halloween, with all its spook and sugar, found a home in quiet celebration. Somewhere in the pond, a duck shook its head as if to say, “Humans, always so dramatic.”
And so it was, as always in Stillbridge, that the children went home full of candy and stories, the adults went home full of memories, the Great Pumpkin remained elusive but not forgotten, and the town itself went on, quietly proud of its gentle, peculiar, perfectly ordinary magic.
