A writer remembers a mysterious transformation that occurred while she was trick-or-treating… one that’s followed her into adulthood.
by Laura Wall

One year, when I was about 6,  my dad took my two older siblings and me around the block for trick-or-treating while my mom stayed home to hand out candy. About halfway through the evening, we stopped by our own house and rang the doorbell. The door slowly creaked open. Standing before me was a woman with long, dark hair peppered with gray.

She had a pale, wrinkled complexion and a wart on her nose. She was wearing a black dress covered in soot, with a cape wrapped around her shoulders, and an old witch’s hat. 

I was stunned. “Mom?” I asked. She responded “Hello, I am Esmerelda.” Her voice was deep and unfamiliar. She didn’t seem to recognize me at all. “Mom, it’s ME!” I said. My sister and brother chimed in, “Mom? You know us!” She was unphased. “What do you want?” she asked, eerily. The three of us screamed “trick or treat!” in unison. After handing us candy and wishing us a happy Halloween, she slowly closed the door. 

About an hour later, we arrived at home to find everything the same as before. Esmerelda was gone. No evidence of her whatsoever. Mom seemed completely normal. 

It was so strange. 

This happened year after year until I stopped trick or treating. It was always the same: the brief, mysterious appearance of Esmerelda; no acknowledgement of her existence from my mom.

 Fast forward 30-plus years, when my mom moved to the Raleigh area from Atlanta. That Halloween, our house was full of teenagers and neighbors when we heard a knock on the door. I opened it up and there she was, in all her spooky glory: “Hello,” she said, “I am Esmerelda.”

Esmerelda walked right into the house, sat down at the kitchen island and requested a Bloody Mary, heavy on the tomato juice. Everyone was stunned. Mom was new to town, and the only people who knew her were my kids. (Confused and embarrassed, they made a quick exit.) My neighbor Tom introduced himself and was alarmed by her unwavering commitment to the character. After a few minutes, he pulled me aside and asked, “Who is that?”

Esmerelda chatted a bit in her low, monotone voice, before she left as mysteriously as she appeared.
Haven’t seen her since. 

This article originally appeared in the October 2024 issue of WALTER magazine.