October, 1980,

"Yes, I'll be there soon." An old man grabbed his suitcase and slid on gloves and a coat. "I'm heading out now. Don't worry about me just focus on the flower arrangements." He locked the back door of his antique shop; the rusty knob scraped his hands roughly. "AHH!" The man placed his injured hand to his mouth; sucking.

"Are you okay?!" A voice asked loudly from the phone.

"I'm okay, dear it's the doorknob I keep forgetting to fix. Yes my baby girl loved daisies they were her favorite."He flipped the sign on the front door to the side that read closed. "It sounds like it's going to be beautiful. Okay, okay, I'm leaving out now, dear."

The small store held many items inside; rugs, mirrors, jewelry, vases, and furniture. It was an outdated building; candle lamps were the only source of light, each of which sat on the front counter; only partially brightening the inside.

"Alright now, see you soon, bye." The old man jiggled the keys in his pocket, checking that he had them, then placed on his dress shoes. Just as he was about to leave, he paused and turned; eyeing the back door with the bad knob. Hesitation ran over the little old man as he walked quickly to open it. "Sorry, I almost forgot about you, Joseph."

Behind the door, there was an item. Not an item that someone would sell, no. The old man knew better to not place it on his shelves with a price tag, or to let anyone other than himself see it. If someone ever saw it; they'd probably die of fright. A costume made of skin hung in the back-porch before him. It's texture wrinkled and blackened with decay. Four slits where a face should have been, holes for eyes, a nose, and a mouth. The thing jerked; animatedly. Its movement similar to clay-mation.

The man patted the head. "Goodbye, son. I won't be gone too long." He rubbed the head as someone would do to a pet. "I'll be back."

Just as he turned the suit began to shake again, more viciously. The item hissed out after its father. "The children," it gurgled out.

The man stopped in his tracks and sighed. "You'll be safe here this time, I made sure of it." He gestured to the boarded screens he'd placed up just the night before. "You don't have to be afraid, the kids won't bother you again; this time they can't get in to." The man closed the door and locked it, then left the shop. He ignored the cries his son made and drove off.

***

"Are you sure he's gone? He's always here," a teenage boy said, placing his hand on the front windows to see into a dark shop. "Candles are lit he must still be here."

"No, I'm telling you, I saw him lock the door and drive off," a girl informed him.

"Mr. Vincent never leaves this shop, he lives here remember? Where would he go? I doubt he has a second home, Sara."

"He was wearing a suit and expensive shoes, he was all dressed up for something. Okay? He's not here." She stressed, "If he was back his car with be right there."

The streets of the small town was filled with children dressed as fictional characters. Princesses, superheroes, and pirates seemed to be the popular ones this year. From house to house they all went asking for sweets under moonlight. The two teenagers were the only ones who stood outside an antique shop; dressed in all black. They chose to be ninjas for Halloween.

"Where would he go?"

Sara fixed the cloth covering her eyes. "Who cares, Pete, let's just go in and end this dumb old bet, I know it's just a cheap ugly costume that's holding up all this hype."

"It's not hype." Pete slipped a bobby-pin she handed him, into the keyhole. "Some of the seniors have seen it, they climbed over that fence." He pointed to a gate beside them. "Onto the roof."His hand shot to the roof. "And saw it hanging on the porch. They said it's made of skin."

"Okay, sure." She rolled her eyes. "A costume made of what, bear skin?"

"No." Pete shook his head and looked to her seriously. "Human."

"Come on, how stupid are you?" She watched him pick the lock. "Can't you see that the seniors are just pranking you so that they can call the cops and get a good laugh before graduation?"

"There are pictures to prove it."

"Yeah, and I bet they're fakes," she said, laughing.

Pete twisted the knob and threw open the creeking door; it hit the wall hard. "Only one way to find out." Sara followed him inside the stuffy store that smelt of wax and old newspapers. She watched as Pete checked the closets, in search for the so called skinned costume she knew wasn't inside. Sara didn't believe that a sweet old man like Mr. Vincent would have something like that in his shop. She believed that the only things inside were nice things, like paintings and pretty little ballerina music-boxes.

She opened the pink and white box and watched the ballerina twirl gracefully. "HEY!" Pete shouted. "I think I found the door, this one is locked; the others aren't."

"This feels weird now, Pete, really lets just go." The girl closed the box. "Lets just leave him alone, okay?"

"What, are you feeling sad for the sick little old man, now?" He laughed at her. "Do you think just because he sells pretty things like that..." he waved his hand at the music-box, "makes him incapable of doing the same with human skin?"

"I'm leaving, you can break into that door on your own if you want."

"Wow, so why did you come then?" He raised his voice. "Why?!"

"Oh gee, I don't know, maybe because I thought you were smart enough to not fall into a trap. And that just because someone told you some crazy rumor, that you wouldn't actually break into a perfectly normal shop! You know, sometimes I doubt that your even my brother, the things you do are just so silly."

Pete's mouth dropped. "What do you mean you doubt-"

"GET OUT!" An eerie voice came from behind the door. Both of them turned and gaped in disbelief. "GO AWAYY!!!" Joseph spoke again, in a hissing wail so loud that they jumped back. The door began vibrating, the hinges squeaked and loosened, then it blasted towards them they ducked. It shattered against a back wall. The candles went out...nothing but dim sunlight from outside filled the room now. The costume hovered before the siblings, flat as a sheet and empty, but not entirely. Something lived within it. Something was keeping it alive. The teenagers rose to their feet as it came closer, reaching its hands out and shouting. "GOOOOO!!!"

"Come on, let's go now!" Sara pulled her brother away, but he wouldn't move, he stood frozen in place; eyes widened in fear. "PETE!!" But it was too late. The suit latched onto her brother's body; snapping its skins onto his like some sort of alien. "AHHHHHHH!!!!" His sister stared, screaming as it took the form of her brother. Pete was now one with the costume

The slits that once occupied the face were gone. There were holes for eyes, a nose, and a mouth now. A mixture of the suit and Pete shrilled at her. "Help me?!!" Her brother begged, his voice demented.

Sara backed away and ran to the front windows and pulled the curtains back. Her hands waved desperately to people passing by. She hit her fists on the glass. This caught the attention of children and parents, and so did costume made of human skin.

***

Mr. Vincent returned in the morning to his shop and found it taped off and surrounded by policemen. He jogged inside; dodging arms that attempted to restrain him. He saw the porch door open; saw the locked door ajar. I don't see my son inside! The old man fell to his knees gasping for air, as his eyes laid on Sara who rocked an injured costume in her lap; whimpering out sobs. "Please," she said sadly, "please, help my brother?"