A Plastic Halloween Skeleton

A Plastic Halloween Skeleton by Mak Ralston

We hung that cheap plastic skeleton in the oak tree every fall like we always did. It wasn’t special. Dollar store bones, fake glow-in-the-dark paint, plastic joints that clicked in the wind. The neighbors rolled their eyes. My mom said it was “tradition.” My dad used it to scare me in a way that somehow made me feel safer. And then he went to war and didn’t come home.
After that, Halloween stopped being about candy. It became the one night I still felt like his kid.
The first year without him, I tried to pretend I was fine. I stayed in, skipped trick-or-treating, watched safe “scary” movies, and raided the candy bowl early. But when I went to close the blinds, I saw something outside the window. The skeleton hanging from our tree wasn’t plastic anymore. It was changing. Muscle. Tendons. Skin. It climbed down, pulled a sheet around itself, and stood in our yard. And it looked up at me.
It was my father.
He looked whole. He looked at me like he always did. And then he turned toward a light I can’t explain, something bright and wrong and beautiful at the end of our street. Before he walked into it, he mouthed the same words he used to say after every bedtime story: “See you in the morning.”
This is a Halloween story about grief, faith, and the kind of love that doesn’t stay buried. It’s not about jump scares. It’s about what it means when the dead come back to keep a promise.


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Midnight Scares - Fall Asleep to Spooky Storiesl
Candlight Classics - Classic Short Stories to Help You Sleep
Candlelight Romance - Fall Asleep While Falling In Love
True Crime by Candlelight - Drift Off to Dark Mysteries

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**While this is my voice, sometimes I use an AI cloned version of my voice because it helps with my dyslexia.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
A plastic Halloween skeleton by mac Ralston. It was just
a plastic Halloween skeleton dangling from our large oak tree
in the front yard. We had put it there in
the middle of September despite our neighborhood's wishes. They didn't
quite understand our enthusiasm for the holiday, and those same

(00:22):
hypocritical folk were putting plastic santas on their lawn come November. First,
a plastic Halloween skeleton. Back to the skeleton, it was
a cheap, o, run of the mill Halloween decoration. You've
probably seen your fair share at dollar stores, Halloween pop ups,
and big box retailers. Now that I've had time to

(00:45):
think about it, I'm pretty sure it even glowed in
the dark, which meant it just barely glowed at all.
As a kid, however, it was always the coolest thing
to me. It's truly amazing how the mundane bewilders children.
One of the reasons I cherished that skeleton so much
was because of all the memories I had of the thing.

(01:07):
Every Halloween, Mom and Dad would take me around the
block as they ushered me to the front doors of
complete strangers. Now people I know by name, as I
pleaded for a Rhees's or kit cat. Halloween is such
a strange time of year, but I remember those chilly
autumn nights almost more than Christmas morning. As we'd walk

(01:30):
home from the house at the end of the cul
de Sac, Dad would tease me about the spooky skeletons
swaying in the breeze down the road. Mom would turn
off her flashlight and ever so faintly I could make
out the glow of the swaying ghoul. I would always scream,
and my parents would laugh. Dad would bend down and

(01:52):
pick me up by the sides of my dinosaur costume
and point down the road at the cheap prop. It's
ok to be afraid, Bud, but never let it rule
your life. I would confidently nod, and my dad would
hug me and set me down. I'd rush off toward
the house and sit beneath the wind dancing skeleton in
the grassy yard, sorting through all the good candy for

(02:15):
me and the rest for Dad. He never minded, as
he especially loved the cocoanut chocolates, the stuff I always
loathed as a child. I'd get bitten up by ants
after a few minutes, but I suppose the excitement of
eating candy kept me planted on the lawn. Dad didn't mind,
but Mom did. That is, if I ate too much

(02:36):
candy before bedtime, before I'd drift off into dreamland. Dad
would always promise a scary story before he tucked me in.
Usually it was one of his own. Typically something about
his time in the war, may be emphasized by ghosts
or zombies. But one Halloween, the most memorable of all,
he read me a passage from the Bible. It was

(02:59):
a Bible he had tucked away inside my dresser drawer,
an heirloom from my great grandfather when he too was
in the service. The passage he read was from Ezekiel,
the story of the Valley of dry bones and how
God would breathe into them and raise the corpses from
the dead. As he said this, my Dad would raise

(03:21):
the pitch of his voice and point forebodingly to the
skeleton hanging from the tree. You know, he would say,
growing more serious in his tone. One day, I'm not
going to be here for you, Bud. One day you're
gonna have to face your fears on your own. But
don't worry, I'll always be there with you see you

(03:42):
in the morning, I would smile and nod. I didn't
entirely understand the concept of death. I thought skeletons were
nothing more than spooky Halloween themed monsters. The truth of
the matter was that skeletons, as halloweeny as they were,
were hiding inside of us, all just waiting for death
to set them free. Eventually, I'd learn Dad was called

(04:07):
back on tour, and after only a few months of
being away, Mom got the call. It was difficult for her,
I'm sure, not only on her behalf, but on mine.
Trying to explain to a seven year old that Dad
wasn't coming back ever, that must have been rough on Mom.
Maybe for Christmas, I said, hopefully, so we can see

(04:30):
Santa together. My Mom would shake her head with a
tear in her eye. No, baby, she sniffled, not ever,
It's just you and me now, Okay, okay, Mommy. I
realize now that my child like optimism was painful for

(04:51):
my mother to bear. Every few days, I'd ask if
Dad was coming home. I didn't entirely grasp the concept
of death. When they had the funeral service for Dad,
they chose to have a closed casket, as Mom and
Nana didn't want me to see Dad. Not like that.
Will he come out of there, I'd say, pointing to

(05:14):
the casket. No, sweetie, Nana said, your daddy's got a rest. Okay,
I'd nod still without a clue. I suppose ignorance is bliss.
Children always have it easy, even when they don't. Halloween
would come and go. It was never the same without
Dad in his stories. Mom would take me around the

(05:36):
block and hang the decorations, the same now faded skeleton
jangling from the oak tree. It wasn't scary anymore, and
as the years went by, it reminded me more and
more of Dad. Eventually I had lost interest in trick
or treating, opting to stay inside and watch scary movies,

(06:00):
which for a ten year old were about as intense
as Casper. I wouldn't even bother going outside for candy,
as my mom would buy a baggy from the grocery
store and fill a small pail on the front porch,
and every now and again i'd sneak a treat for
myself before going into a candy induced coma. I managed

(06:22):
to make my way to my bedroom, hobbling over to
my window to close the blinds, I noticed something hanging
from the oak tree, silhouetted by an orange hue from
the neighbor's lights. It was the skeleton, but it had
grown longer, taller, and was now a far darker color.

(06:42):
I tiptoed down the hallway past my sleeping mother's room
and flipped on the front patio light, and that's when
I saw it. The skeleton was wrapped in muscle tissue
and tendons surrounded the plastic bones, and for a brief moment,
I could see skin slowly sliding up the corpse. I

(07:04):
hid behind the front door for a moment, catching my breath,
and on the verge of waking my sleeping mother with
a shriek, I peered around the wooden facade and saw
the skeleton, now anything but plastic, hop down from the
rope it was bound by the corpse, now nearly a
full sized person. Yanked one of the sheet ghosts from

(07:25):
the tree, tying the white fabric across its naked body.
I flicked the light off, ducking down while still watching
the figure in my front yard. It must have noticed,
because it turned its head to face me, and that's
when I saw it. It was Dad. He smiled at
me through the glass and waved. I stood up, pressing

(07:47):
my face to the cold glass as I did, something
flashed behind my dad's body at the end of the street,
causing him to turn and look toward it. It was
a bright, glowing light, brighter than anything I've ever seen.
He turned back to me and smiled, mouthing something as
he did. He turned facing the light and gradually made

(08:10):
his way toward it, eventually being engulfed in the shining radiance.
After he met with the light, it disappeared just as
quickly as it appeared. I felt a warm tear roll
down my cheek, now pulled away from the icy window,
as if finally I had realized that while my dad
was gone, I'd somehow see him again, only ascertained by

(08:35):
the words I now believe were what my dad mouthed
to me, see you in the morning. Halloween is and
will always be my favorite holiday. It reminds me that
after each all Hallow's Eve, there's a bright morning