Halloween 2020: Choose Your Spooky Outcome: Chapter 7
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“Waffle Ball!” You scream the words, much too loudly for the situation, visions of teeth flooding your mind and filling your body with adrenaline. It gets you some odd looks from your friends, but the candy people spring into action setting up the net. Or their version of a net, anyway, which you discover is made of cotton candy.
As it turns out, Waffle Ball is very close to volleyball, save that the ball is made of delicious waffle cone. Oh, and it’s filled with a gooey maple syrup core, something you learn on Thad’s first serve. Your brother’s powerful slap shatters the ball into delectable splinters, sending a spray of maple across your side of the court, and costing your team a point. According to Waffle Ball rules, destroying the ball counts as a foul, a fact that comes into play almost immediately on the next turn, when Jim makes a stupendous catch only to chow down on the waffle goodness in his hands.
The candy opponents, conversely, have no issues with too much power given their smaller bodies, and evidently aren’t tempted to devour the ball with the same gusto as Jim. Slowly, your team manages to pick up the game here and there, but in no time Ole Scotch is blowing a whistle to signal victory, and it sure isn’t yours.
With a weary head, you watch as the winning team is hoisted upon the shoulders of their fellow candy citizens, cheers and applause ringing out as they are carried off in the direction of the sand pit. The flashes still lingering in your head give a sense of comfort, especially as you hear the word “chew” starting to catch on among the crowd.
“Crapadoodle shit,” Jim remarks, watching the competitors go. “Does this mean we’re screwed on the search?”
“Take heart, traveler’s companion. While you have failed to secure the greatest of prizes, even in defeat, there are still treats to be had.” Ole Scotch motions for you all to follow, leading away from the playground and the screams that are nearing a frenzied pitch. Part of you wants to look back at the scene, but another piece already knows that some sights are better unwitnessed.
Up a small hill, you all follow the elderly candy upon a winding path. Looking down along the side, you’re surprise to notice something akin to a junkyard. Crusts of pies, spoiled hunks of meat, stale wedges of cake, even small debris like nuts and thin coins. Ole Scotch follows your eyes, halting the procession.
Tipping it’s center candy like the bow of a head, Ole Scotch seems to whisper a few words, though who a being like this would pray too is a thought definitely best left unexplored. “The remnants of the old. Forgotten, cast aside, unable to fulfill their glorious destiny.”
“I see. So this is not the place of candy, it is the place of tribute.” Victoria surveys the sight with a far more academic eye, noting each detail of the eclectic mound. “The offerings were not always sweets, Merlin. Many a tradition in across a myriad of lands served the role before confections gained their dominance.”
“As one day we too shall be supplanted,” Ole Scotch confirms. “Our uneaten growing still and silent, eventually to be rolled in here with other remains. All things change, even in The Between.” After one last glance at what you now understand to be a graveyard, it continues onward.
Eventually the path leads to a small cottage that seems as sugary as the rest of the surroundings, with orange frosting along the edges and a chocolate chimney. It gives you some borderline witch in a forest vibes, but luckily Ole Scotch doesn’t go so far as to invite you in. Rather, it heads inside, returning a few minutes later with a box under one arm and a huge serving tray barely balanced on the other.
Thad rushes over, helping it with the tray and dishes, which consist of a large silver jug and five cups. “Thank you, thank you, these things used to be so easy,” Ole Scotch says, half appreciative, half grumbling. “Go ahead and pour for us all while I explain the traveler’s prize.”
Complying, Thad pours a cup for Ole Scotch first, a rich creamy cocoa that smells incredible. You really hope it doesn’t start whispering or shrieking, a mug of comfort sounds nice right about now. While Thad makes his way around the table, Ole Scotch lifts the box, designed to look like wood, though you have a hunch it too would prove edible if tested. When it cracks open, your gaze is met by a familiar arrangement of colors.
“These are the exceptional sweets. Their magic is different than most of ours, trapped inside rather than conjuring life. Upon eating, the shell shatters and the power is released, imparting some magic to the one who chews. Only a traveler, such as yourself, may partake.”
Red, blue, green, yellow, and orange. Round and wrapped in bright paper. One of each color, no apparent arrangement, it was like they were jumbled around loose in the box. Jim leans over your shoulder, smacking his lips. “And if one were to cram them all in his mouth at once for a flavorlicious explosion?”
“Explosion would prove to be an apt word choice,” Ole Scotch replies. “The magic is potent, and jealous. Any who try to consume more than one have met horrendous ends.”
“I don’t suppose you can tell us anything about what they do?” It’s a longshot, but you might as well try.
To your surprise, Ole Scotch moves it’s body in the motion you’ve learned is a nod. “Despite being a keeper of the box, I am given no insights to its mysteries. Even what you see does not encompass the full spectrum, sometimes there are different hues when the box is opened. Yet twice in my long life, I have witnessed the partaking. One traveler chose the red, body swelling with muscle and strength. One traveler chose the green, their movements turning quick and nimble. The others are a mystery to me. Only you can decide which treat will best help you along the way.
Ole Scotch offers the box, and Thad is finally getting to you with that jug of cocoa, so seems like the time has come to make a choice.