Coming Home
Luke Walker reached for his house keys, almost dropping it three times before finally finding the lock. The Saturday guy’s night had been fun as usual, though he may had had too much to drink this time around. Everything was blurry and he was pretty sure there weren’t that many vases by the porch when he had left for the bar. Double vision was something he could handle, no problem, but triple and quadruple was a stretch.
The door creaked and he walked inside, a warm white light bathing the foyer as he did. Slightly trembling fingers hugged the wall as he tried to remember where his bed was. Something sticky wrapped around his nails and he instinctively went for a taste.
Whipped cream frosting.
Luke blinked, drunk eyes adjusting to his surroundings. Beyond the threshold of the entrance hallway stood an ensemble of furniture straight out of a fairy-tale. Think gingerbread house with ten times more gingerbread, licorice heart-shaped stools around a gummy bear table, an ice-cream sandwich sofa, candy cane lamps hanging from a dripping chocolate ceiling and so much more, but no hungry witch in sight.
“At least, not for now.” He thought. “Is this a dream, or am I in a trance again?
No voice—natural or supernatural—answered his plight, and he could barely articulate a coherent thought.
“Whatever...” He mumbled. Luke navigated the spectacular candied decoration, climbed up a set of gelatin stairs, and finally found his bed, now appearing to him like a wonderful homemade ice cream cone with a soft vanilla and chocolate filling. He immediately sank into it and fell asleep, thinking only of one thing, as certain as falling rain.
Halloween season with his sister Mandy was always weird as fuck.