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Author's Note: Just a fun little fiction to celebrate Halloween. Hope everybody out there in PCLand has fun tonight.
Nifty Fact for the Day: In Ireland instead of 'Trick or Treat', the phrase used is "Help the Halloween Party"

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"It's not going to work, you know."

From his seat on the bedroom floor, Connor looked up at his twin, frowning. Still in his costume from trick or treating, Murphy was perched on his bed, a sucker in his mouth, carefully inspecting his haul.

"What makes you so sure?" he retorted.

"Older brothers know these things." Murphy responded loftily.

"Go on outta that!" Picking a piece of bubblegum from his own candy haul, Connor pitched it across the room, biting back a satisfied smile as it bounced off Murphy's head, making his twin wince, "now get yer arse over here and lend me a hand."

With a sigh, his brother slid off the mattress, taking most of the quilted comforter with him, sending his candy tumbling in all directions.

Coming to sit across from him, Murphy looked down at the intricately lettered board, raising an eyebrow. "So how does this thing work then, Carnac?"

"It's easy. You put your hands on this thing and then the ghosts move it around and send you messages and shite."

Picking up the plastic triangle that he had indicated, Murphy held it to his eye and peered at him through the lens in the center. "And why the fuck do we want to do that?"

Connor snatched the piece from his hand and placed it carefully back on the board, "Because I went through a lot of fuckin' trouble to get this, that's why."

"I still say it's not going to work."

"Boys," their ma's voice rang out clearly through the small house, "I thought I told you lights out."

"We're just brushing our teeth, Ma." Connor called back, getting to his feet.

"Aye," Murphy added, removing the sucker from his mouth and gesturing with it, "wouldn't want to get cavities from all this candy."

"Hurry it up, the both of you."

There was only a moment of darkness after Connor flicked the lightswitch before he was illuminated by the glow of a flashlight, his brother pulling the torch from its hiding place under his bed.

Retrieving a second light, Murphy lobbed it across the room, landing it almost perfectly in Connor's outstretched palm. Angling the beam under his chin, casting creepy shadows across his features, Murphy grinned.

"I am the Ghost of Halloween," he intoned, "and I've come across time and space with a message for you, Connor MacManus."

Connor rolled his eyes, "Christ," he muttered.

"Connor MacManus, the spirits are speaking to me and they say . . . ." Murphy paused dramatically and pulled a face, "they say . . . "

"They say you're a fuckin' retard,"

Perking, Murphy gasped, "That's amazing! The spirits do say that you're a retard. You must by psychic!"

"You daft twat." Grabbing a Curly Wurly from his candy pile, Connor launched himself at his twin, waving the candy bar in Murphy's face.

Murphy squawked, batting at him, "Get that fuckin' thing away from me."

Connor grinned bringing the dreaded sweet closer to his brother's face, "But I thought you loved them," he taunted, "I thought they were your favorite!"

"I swear ta God, Conn, I'll puke all over you."

"Boys!" Ma's voice was closer now, and Connor could imagine her standing at the foot of the stairs, hands planted on her hips, scowling as she yelled up to them.

"Sorry, ma," they called back in unison, their voices the embodiment of innocence.

But their ma, being their ma, wasn't fooled. "I'm going to bed now, and the both of you had better be asleep before I am."

"Yes, mother," they chorused, waiting until they heard the sound of their mother's retreating footsteps before resuming their scuffle.

Dodging Murphy's fist, Connor raked his knuckles mercilessly over his brother's head and then returned to his place on the floor.

"All right, this is serious shite now. Get up here and put her hands on this thing."

Murphy obeyed, placing the tips of his fingers on the edge of the plastic triangle. "You know if Ma catches us with this, she'll likely skin us alive."

"Shut it and concentrate," Connor said, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes.

Hearing Murphy draw in a breath of his own, he placed his fingers on the stylus and tried to clear his mind like the directions on the box had said.

"No faking."

"No faking," Murphy agreed, eyes still closed.

Connor waited until the mood of the room was suitably spooking, only his and Murphy's breath marking the passage of time. "Now ask it a question," he instructed quietly.

Rolling the sucker to the other side of his mouth, Murphy nodded and turned his face to the ceiling, "Oh great spirits," he said not quite able to stifle the giggle that followed, "does Connor wank in the shower?"

"Damnit, Murphy!"

Laughing, Murphy ducked under Connor's fist, "Look! Look! It's moving to yes!"

"You bastard."

"All right, all right," he conceded, holding up a placating hand, "knock it off before Ma hears."

Settled once again, fingertips almost touching on the plastic triangle, Connor glared at his twin. "Spirits of long dead," he intoned, pitching his voice low like the Halloween announcer they had seen on the telly that morning, "we call you forth tonight to enlighten us with your otherwordly wisdom."

Murphy took in a deep breath, "Is there a spirit present?"

Beside him, the flashlight flickered and died, the absence of the second beam made the shadows in the room darker, more sinister than before. Glancing down at the torch, Murphy chuckled nervously, "Coincidence."

Connor nodded, swallowing, goose bumps rising on his arms, "Is there a spirit present?" he repeated, "Can you give us a sign if you're here?"

Knock

The loud bang made them both jump as it reverberated through the room, strident as thunder.

"Holy fuck!" Murphy exclaimed, eyes wide, "Did ye fuckin' hear that?"

Heart jackhammering against his ribs, hands suddenly chilled, Connor nodded. He exchanged a long look with his twin and Murphy gave a slight nod, answering his unspoken question.

Knock. Louder this time, unbidden and more insistent.

Murphy looked around, chewing on stick of his sucker, and even in the darkness, Connor could see his fear mirrored in his twin's gaze. "Ask it a question, quick!" Murphy demanded.

Freezing, blood thundering in his ears, all the questions evaporated from Connor's mind and he looked helplessly at his twin.

Murphy picked up in an instant, "Once knock for yes, two for no." he said, not quite managing to to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Do you understand?"

Knock

"Are you really dead?"

Knock

Another rap seemed to resonate from every corner of their bedroom, low an ominous sounding in the semi-darkness. Connor shuddered at the sound.

In the light of the single flashlight, Connor could see that Murphy had begun to fidget, worrying the nail of his thumb between his teeth. For a moment, he was concerned for his twin, but then Murphy's worried expression split into a grin.

"No fuckin' way!"

Knock

Connor shivered, chills sweeping through him, they had really done it; they had summoned a ghost from the great beyond. But the helpful instructions on the box hadn't told them to do once they had actually made contact. Guess the guys at the factory hadn't thought of that.

"Are you a good spirit?" he asked.

Murphy scoffed at the question, rolling his eyes, "We're talking to the dead and you want to play Wizard of fuckin' O –"

Another rap interrupted him, and after a full moment of silence, a second one followed.

"Two knocks," Connor whispered, feeling his insides go cold, "two knocks means no. Does that mean its evil?"

Knock

"Oh shite." Murphy squeaked, eyes impossibly wide.

Knockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknock

Suddenly the room was full of noise, rapid-fire banging echoed from every corner and wall. They were surrounded by evil, and by the sound, it was royally pissed off.

Yelping, Connor scrabbled to his feet and dove into his bed, pulling the comforter up over his head. Half a second later he was cannonballed by Murphy's weight as his twin leapt beside him onto the matress.

"Oh shit," Murphy whispered frantically, breath coming in frenzied hitches "oh shit, oh shit."

"Shut your gob, it'll hear us." Connor gasped, clapping a hand over his twin's mouth. They were going to be in some deep shit when their mother discovered that they had accidentally summoned some foul demon from the pits of hell into their home. That was a week of grounding at least, he was sure.

"What the fuck to we do now?"

Murphy's reply was muffled against his palm, but Connor understood it just the same.

Pray.

Releasing his brother to clasp his hands, Connor shut his eyes tightly and prayed with all his might, aware of Murphy next to him, doing the same.

"The Lord is my sheppard," they chanted, "And I shall not want . . . "

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Downstairs, mirthful tears streaming down her face, a hand pressed over her own mouth to stifle the laughter, Annabelle MacManus looked gleefully up at the ceiling above her head.

Shoulders shaking, she turned away from the where she stood, directly under her twin sons' room and went to return the broomstick in her hand to the closet.

She bloody well loved being a mother.

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