Trigger Warning: This story includes gore, violence, and death.

Joe stood in his dilapidated cottage, gazing at the elaborate Halloween party invite. He hated going out after dark—especially when temperatures were unseasonably frigid. Fierce winds sent the old oak tree’s naked branches scratching at his living room window. Visions of bony elongated fingers taunted Joe’s mind, and he struggled to suppress the surging shivers. 

The thirty-two-year-old web developer despised all things Halloween, but he was obligated to attend the party. After all, it wouldn’t look good if he rejected his boss’ invite, especially since the single man was a recent hire at the company. Joe sweated with fear and tossed the fancy invitation onto the coffee table. He peered into the wall-mounted mirror and balked at his cowboy costume. After an exaggerated exhale, Joe headed out the front door.

The web developer arrived at his boss’ residence on the moonless, chilly evening, and his jaw dropped. Ample lighting in varying shades of oranges and purples illuminated the sizable estate. Inside the courtyard sat a well-constructed cemetery that resembled an actual ancient graveyard. Dread twisted in Joe’s gut as he observed the dense fog veiling the property. The eerie mist danced over the grounds, coiling its hazy fingers around each stone. Ominous rumblings of screams and jarring sounds plucked at Joe’s nerves. His heart pounded, and he fought the urge to run back to the safety of his Jeep. But he wiped his cold and clammy hands on the tan-colored chaps and rushed toward the front door.

A welcoming atmosphere settled his inflated nerves when Joe stepped inside the house. Partygoers greeted his arrival, and many chit-chatted and giggled amongst each other. He heard a few people speak of a delicious spiked punch, and it piqued his interest. The web developer undoubtedly wanted booze to remedy the last of his unease. Without haste, he headed for the punchbowl at the front of the spacious ballroom and poured himself a goblet. Joe greedily gulped the red beverage and watched as a butler brought out a fresh bowl. Before stepping away to wander around, he was sure to refill his goblet. And the cowboy planned to return frequently to the delightful alcohol-infused beverage.

Several dozen people donning various costumes danced and laughed to the Halloween-themed music playing in the ballroom. A pleasant buzz had already set in, and Joe appreciated it. He was well aware that alcohol was a fool’s anesthetic. But, currently, Joe didn’t care. He felt… Great. Confident. Lively. He no longer felt the need to disappear shortly after arriving. He wanted to stay and mingle.

Joe waltzed out of the ballroom to explore further. He moved rhythmically to the music, donning an ear-to-ear grin. Across from the spacious ballroom was an ill-lit room. It grabbed his attention; instead of intimidating him, it intrigued him. The cowboy strode with confidence past a spiral staircase to have a look. Inside the darkened room sat an array of animatronics. Some held weapons and spewed threats while others emitted evil laughs as they jump-scared passersby. And people surrounded several cocktail tables. They chatted and drank. Joe made a few friendly gestures, then left to observe more of his boss’ home.

At the back of the house was a medium-sized room with strobe lights. Joe spotted only a few people hanging out and figured the flashing lights were likely a bit much for most. He looked down at his goblet and realized it was empty, so he headed back to the ballroom. As he passed the staircase, he glanced upward. A barricade at the top prevented people from going beyond. Smart, he thought. Ya never know what people will do when drunk. Snoop. Steal. Have sex in the bedrooms. He smirked and shook his head. Then it dawned on him that he hadn’t yet seen his boss. Joe wanted to thank him for the invite.

The ballroom smelled of fall: pumpkins, cinnamon, pecan pie, brown sugar vanilla. All of which thoroughly delighted him. He got in the short line for the potent punch and swayed to the beat of the music. 

“I’m glad you could make it, Joe,” spoke a husky-voiced male.

Joe turned and came face-to-face with his smiling boss. “Oh, Conrad! Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Be sure and check out the buffet.” Conrad pointed behind him. “I may have overdone it with the food, but I prefer to have more than is necessary.”

Joe glanced at the impressive arrangement of food. He hadn’t noticed the setup when he first arrived. “Will do! Thank you for the invite. It’s a wonderful party.”

A peculiar smirk spread upon Conrad’s face. “The best is yet to come.” He nodded, then moved on to greet other guests.

Joe poured himself another full goblet of the intoxicating red beverage and vowed to make it his last. This stuff is powerful, he thought. And it was apparent the other partygoers ought to slow their consumption as well; people swayed, stumbled, and faltered as they made their way throughout the ballroom. Some spoke—or rather, slurred—too loud, while others laughed so hard they cried. I better get some food into me, he mused.

The cowboy staggered toward the buffet, but a blood-curdling scream from behind stopped him in his tracks. He turned and spotted a man dressed as a hotdog, donning a frantic look on his face. A yellow substance oozed from the fella’s abdomen area. 

Hotdog man shouted, “Mustard! Somebody help me! Why am I leaking mustard? Help!”

More screams filled the room. Joe looked to his left and saw a female dressed as a rabbit, hopping about. “I can’t stop jumping! Someone help me, please!”

Joe looked to his right and saw two females dressed as cheerleaders, cheering in synch.

“Be aggressive! B-E aggressive! B-E A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E! Be aggressive!” They shouted, clapped, and jumped. The blonde-haired one then added, “Something is making us do this! Help us!” 

Joe’s brows furrowed. He didn’t know whether to react or laugh. He stood in silence, watching the people throughout the party room. A man stepped in front of him and looked him square in the face.

“Yo-ho-ho! Shiver me timbers, Matey. Me can’t stop speaking like er damn pirate! Help me! Yarr!”

Joe smirked. Surely the man was joking; everyone must be in on the prank.

“Savvy! I’ll crush ye barnacles if ya don’t help!”

Joe wasn’t sure how he should respond. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Blimey,” then moved away from the pirate. 

In his efforts to put some distance between him and the awkward pirate, he bumped into a cowgirl.

“Well, hello there, good lookin’! You havin’ a hog-killin’ time?” asked the attractive girl with a wink. 

“Ah, yeah,” Joe said while glancing down at his cowboy costume. He was a bit shy and didn’t know what else to say.

A female dressed as a whoopie cushion stood a few feet from the two of them. She kept tooting, and the foul egg-like farts smelled up the room. Joe gagged and struggled to stifle a laugh.

“I believe we need an ace-in-the-hole, cowboy,” said the cowgirl while crinkling her nose and waving a hand in front of her face.

Joe wasn’t sure, but he thought the expression meant they needed a hideout or a safe house. He couldn’t argue with that! The stench was bad. Real bad. Everyone acted like the costume they donned—everyone except him. He didn’t feel the need to act or speak like a cowboy, so he rationalized that he was the only one not in on the joke. Joe mused that it might be a ritual or initiation into the company since he was a new hire.

An ear-piercing scream erupted from the cowgirl’s throat, pulling Joe from his reverie. His brain stuttered as his eyes took in the vision before him. Blood spurted from the cowgirl’s neck, and she collapsed onto the tile flooring. The man beside her, donning a zombie costume, leaped on top of her. He greedily chomped into her flesh, swallowing large chunks at a time. Joe stumbled backward. This part of the joke was too much. He didn’t do well in the sight of such gore–even if it was just a joke. It was far too realistic for him.

Off to his left, a man donning a vampire costume zoomed toward the blonde-haired cheerleader. He sank his teeth into her neck. She pulled away, and her torn carotid artery sent a pulsating jet of blood onto the floor. But the bloodsucker yanked her toward him, dove at her gushing neck, and drank the warm red fountain.

Joe’s jaw dropped, and his stomach churned as reality hit him like a sledgehammer. The scene before him wasn’t a joke. People had gone mad. Every partygoer was frantic. Most feared for their lives, while a few devoured the fearful ones. Joe’s mouth remained open in a silent scream, and his eyes were wild with terror.

He then caught a glimpse of movement and shifted his focus to a clown as he lifted his machete into the air. The killer clown savagely chopped away at the body of a female donning a princess costume. The horrific sight jarred him from his stupor, and he sprinted out of the room, heading for the front door.

As he ran, he glanced around for the possibility of a person donning a police costume, hoping they’d have a loaded gun. He would ask them to escort him to his vehicle safely. Then Joe stumbled into a person donning a prison guard costume. A sense of relief washed over him as he realized it was his boss.

“Conrad! Thank goodness it’s you. Come on, let’s get out of here!”

“Where do you think you’re going, Joe?”

“Sir, hurry! Haven’t you seen what’s happening? Come with me! W–we need to leave.”

“No one is allowed to leave, Joe.” A nefarious grimace emerged upon Conrad’s face. 

“Wh-what?” Joe took a step backward but focused on his boss’ face.

“I said no one leaves. My annual Halloween parties provide me with the humans I need.”

“H-humans? For what?”

“Well, I need to eat, Joe. Unfortunately, a zombie attended this year’s party and feasted on a few of them. But, my people are currently dealing with the situation.”

“S–sir,” Joe stuttered. “Y-you must be j-joking.”

“I never joke, Joe. That’s a human trait, and I am not human.”

Joe tried to speak, but his mouth just hung wide open. He was mute with horror, and his face went blank.

Conrad spoke with ease. “That spiked punch you all consumed was a tainted concoction of mine.” The party’s host gestured with a finger toward Joe. “I noticed it didn’t affect you as much. Every year, one or two humans are resistant to its toxins. It’s how I find exceptional ones. You will be reserved for consumption during one of my kind’s special events because you are an exquisite delicacy, Joe.”

Joe stared at Conrad’s lips, awaiting a pleasant smile to announce that it had all been one big joke. But a needle penetrated his neck, and his vision blurred. Joe’s skin paled, taking on the appearance of a China doll. He opened his mouth but released only senseless garble as he saw the butler step into his beclouded view. Joe’s weakened legs gave out, and he plummeted, landing with a sickening thud at his boss’ feet. The web developer succumbed to the engulfing darkness, assuring his future placement on Conrad’s dinner plate.