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 to get you!” in a shrill yell.

Margaret chuckled, “Not this year, Bobby.  Not this year.”

“I can’t believe it’s been 20 years.  I was just 10.  We came home from trick or treating, and he had just vanished.”  Margaret’s oldest son, Vance, had come over on Halloween night to help hand out candy, reminisce, and have a few drinks.  As midnight approached, he was well past tipsy.  Margaret patted her oldest on the shoulder and gently got him pointed upstairs to the guest bedroom. 

Margaret walked into the front yard with what was left of her own drink.  She paused and looked at Bobby; his head turned slowly, organically toward her.  Margaret held up her glass in a toast.  “Another year in the books, Bobster.” 

As she walked back in the house a low, husky voice said “heeelllpppp….”

Margaret brought all the decorations in promptly on November 1st.  She propped Bobby up in the corner chair while she boxed up and put away the other decorations.  After coming back up, she noticed the skeleton was out of the chair and had crawled a few feet.  She picked it up and put it back in the chair.  “Maaargarreettt..” followed her up the stairs.

Two weeks later, sitting in the dark, Margaret considered the skeleton through alcohol clouded eyes. “I miss you, I do.  Maybe this is the year.”

Thanksgiving eve, Margaret was prepping for the whole extended family to come over the next day.  As she put the finishing touches on a pie, Bobby crawled into the kitchen on hands and knees. 

“Maggie, leave me out.  I’m sorry, I can be good.  Just until Thanksgiving…”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you took up with Wendy. ”  She put down the whisk, picked up the skeleton and put it back into it’s box, where it ceased moving.  Until Halloween, next year.