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Margaret hauled the Halloween decorations boxes out of the basement and up to the main level the night of October 1st, same as every year. Since the kids had grown and left the house, this was a solitary exercise, but one she still looked forward to at the earliest signs of fall. She pulled the kids’ favorite decoration out of the largest of the boxes - a motion-activated skeleton with a shaggy tuft of thinning black hair. There was a solidness to the bones; this wasn’t a cheap prop purchased from Target. They’d named him Bobby, a sort of tribute to their father, Robert, who’d gone missing on Halloween twenty years ago. She took Bobby outside and tied him to the old oak tree in the front yard, where he’d scare and delight younger kids as they passed by, moving and playing any of a half dozen pre-recorded messages as they walked by. She took a pull on her gin, stepping back to make sure she’d mounted him properly. As she walked back to the house, he moved jerkily, and the recorded voice said “I’m going t
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