───※ 🎃 𝖧𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 🎃 ※───14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTDCQ58wgU6
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When Arvin woke, Mrs Bell was lighting the pumpkin beside her door.
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The sky outside was the same dark blue it had been before he fell asleep.
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Outside, the tune reached its high notes, paused, and started again.
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“Did I miss it?” he asked, sitting up.
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“Not at all. You're just in time.”
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On the table was his toffee apple.
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He knew it was his because the stick leaned to one side. Only now, the apple was whole.
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He checked the back of it.
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He ran a finger over the place where he'd bitten it. The toffee was smooth and unbroken.
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“I bit this.”
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Mrs Bell looked over.
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“Then have another.”
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He thought she meant another apple. Perhaps she had thrown the old one away.
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Outside, Arthur stood by the table in the square with the same crooked hat. Someone had put fresh cakes on the plates. The woman in the purple cardigan waved a tray of mummy sausages.
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“Happy Halloween, Arvin!”
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He smiled despite himself.
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Another Halloween. A whole extra one.
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This time, he tried a biscuit from every house. Arthur showed him how to throw little beanbags through the mouth of a wooden pumpkin. When Arvin missed, everyone clapped anyway.
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Arthur bent to pick up a beanbag. A strip of silver tape was peeling away from the toe of his brown shoe. He pressed it down with his other foot, then handed Arvin the bag.
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Near the gate, more decorations hung between the trees. An old woman in a long skirt. A man in a knitted vest. Their feet turned above the fallen leaves.
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“Did you make those?” Arvin asked Arthur.
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Arthur followed his gaze.
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“Been there a while.”
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Before Arvin could ask anything else, the woman with the cushion called him back for another turn.
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Later, he fell asleep in Mrs Bell's chair.
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When he woke, she was lighting the pumpkin.
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The same high notes came through the doorway. Arvin knew exactly when the pause would come.
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He sat very still.
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His bucket stood beside the chair. He had filled it to the handle, but now there was only a mint and the sweet with the stuck wrapper.
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“Where did my sweets go?”
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“Well, that won't do,” Mrs Bell said.
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She picked up the bowl.
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Arvin pulled the bucket away.
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“You said that before.”
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Her hand stayed above the bowl for a moment.
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Then she smiled.
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“Did I?”14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHNOYLwutun
───※ 🎃 𝖧𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 🎃 ※───14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI5VXAmBG1n
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He tried to count after that.
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One Halloween. Then another. Then another.
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He made a small mark on his wrist with a pen from Mrs Bell's kitchen. After he slept, it was gone.
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He asked Arthur what day it was.
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“Halloween.”
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“I know. But is it Monday?”
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Arthur held out a beanbag.
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“Your turn.”
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Arvin didn't take it.
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He couldn't remember seeing the sun since he arrived. Sometimes the sky became almost light, but then a door would open, someone would call him over, and the pumpkins would be glowing again.
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He didn't want cake anymore. Every house smelled of the same warm pastry and cinnamon. Even with nothing in his mouth, he could taste it. His stomach felt tight.
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He wanted the toast Mum made when he was ill, with the butter right up to the edges.
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He wanted his own bed.
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That evening, when Mrs Bell came towards him with a plate, he began to cry.
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“I want to go home.”
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She put the plate down at once.
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“Oh, sweetheart.”
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“I want my mum.”
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Mrs Bell knelt beside his chair and wiped his cheek with her apron. He could see a little orange pumpkin near the hem, with one eye coming unstitched.
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“You've hardly eaten.”
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“I don't want anything.”
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Around them, the square had gone quiet.
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The old woman in purple lowered her tray. Arthur stood with a beanbag in his hand.
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“I want my mum,” Arvin said again, louder.
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Mrs Bell looked towards the road.
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“She came looking,” she said.
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Arvin stopped crying.
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“When?”
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Mrs Bell didn't answer.
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He climbed off the chair.
and then Add to home screen.