Halloween 2025 - Trick or Treat, Polly! (Patreon)

Part 1Cindy adjusted the frills of her maid costume as she limped up the steps, her right leg snugly wrapped in a pink short leg walking cast. Beside her, Joy carried a pumpkin shaped bucket of candies in her good hand, her left arm secured in a white long arm cast and resting in a sling.

“Polly’s going to love these,” Joy said cheerfully, shifting the bucket a little. “You know how she gets into Halloween.”

Cindy smiled, brushing a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. “Yeah. I bet she’s already dressed up. Probably a bunny girl again.”

When Joy pushed open the door, the two stopped in shock.

Polly was sitting in her wheelchair in the middle of the living room, but not as they expected. Both of her legs were encased in thick white long leg casts, extending from her toes to her thighs, held straight and propped up on the wheelchair’s padded leg supports. A bulky shoulder spica cast covered her left shoulder and upper torso, locking her left arm in a raised gesture of greeting.

Her usual mischievous grin was replaced by a sheepish smile.

“Surprise?” Polly said weakly, lifting her right hand to wave.

“What happened to you?!” Cindy blurted out, rushing closer. “You look like you’ve been through a car crash!”

Joy’s eyes widened. “Polly, are those real casts?”

Polly sighed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah... unfortunately, they are.”

“How?” Cindy asked, half in disbelief. “Last week you were bragging about trying on fake casts again.”

Polly let out a nervous laugh. “I was... playing around with a leg cast setup I made. You know, for fun. I put my legs in the traction slings on my bed and must’ve dozed off. But, my phone rang, I tried to get up, and, well, the slings twisted around. I slid right off the bed. My legs got yanked so hard, I heard a pop. And the next thing I knew, I was on the floor screaming.”

Joy winced. “Oh my God, Polly…”

Cindy folded her arms, still stunned. “That’s... honestly unbelievable. You’ve joked about casting yourself before, but, this looks really painful.”

“It is,” Polly admitted, her smile fading for a moment. “Trust me, this isn’t one of my usual games. Dr. Laura wasn’t too happy about it either.” She tried to laugh but winced when her shoulder shifted slightly. “So... I guess I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

Cindy knelt beside her, brushing a bit of plaster dust off Polly’s knee. “We can stay here, you know. Skip the party.”

Polly shook her head. “No, no. You two go. You've got me a bucket of candies ready for trick-or-treaters. I can at least hand those out.” She motioned to the pumpkin bucket that Joy put on the floor.

Cindy smiled gently. “You sure?”

“Positive,” Polly said with a playful smirk. “Besides, my costume’s perfect this year, I’m going as a mummy. Just… with plaster instead of bandages.”

That earned a laugh from both Cindy and Joy. "But, don't forget the hat" Cindy placed the witch hat on Polly's head, as if Indiana Jones received his hat from his friend.

A little later, after the two had left for the party, Polly parked her wheelchair on the front porch. The night air was cool, and faint laughter echoed from down the street. The candy bucket rested on her casted thighs, and she waited patiently, smiling at the passing kids.

At first, most of them hesitated to approach. Her casts looked so heavy, so real, that even the bravest ones kept their distance.

“Don’t be scared!” Polly called out with a grin. “I’m just a mummy who used the wrong wrapping material!”

That got a few giggles, and soon enough, the kids began to come closer, shyly accepting candies from her.

When the crowd thinned, Polly leaned back in her chair, glancing down at her plastered body. She flexed her toes slightly, feeling the dull ache of her broken legs.

“Guess I took the ‘costume’ a little too far this time,” she murmured to herself, the faintest hint of regret in her tone.

If only she hadn’t fallen asleep while playing. She could’ve been out there, laughing with Cindy and Joy, instead of sitting here alone, wrapped in plaster and trying to pretend it was all just part of the act.**********************************************Part 2Cindy and Joy walked side by side along the quiet street, the sound of their heels tapping against the pavement mixed with the faint rustle of fallen leaves.

Joy adjusted the strap of her sling. “So… she really did the fake casts things to herself?”

Cindy chuckled. “Yeah, believe it or not. That’s Polly for you.”

Joy tilted her head. “You’ve known her longer, right? What’s she really like?”

“Oh, it’s a story,” Cindy said, smiling faintly as they passed under a streetlight. “We met at the hospital, actually. I was getting my Valpeau cast reduced, both my arms were wrapped up at the time. Polly was there for cutting my casts. She warned me not to push myself or use my arms too soon.”

Joy raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t listen, I guess?”

Cindy laughed. “Of course not. I crutched my way out of the hospital that same day.”

Joy smirked. “Sounds like you.”

“But here’s the funny part,” Cindy continued. “Next time I saw her? She was the one all casted up! Both legs in long leg casts and elevated in tractions uncomfortably. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I’d be the one still recovering, but she beat me to it.”

They both laughed at that, the kind of laugh that comes from disbelief and fondness at once.

“Yeah,” Cindy sighed, shaking her head. “That’s Polly. Always taking things a little too far… even with casts.”

Back at the house, Polly leaned back in her wheelchair, rubbing her temple. The candy bucket on her lap was empty except for a few wrappers that crinkled in the night breeze.

“Well,” she murmured to herself, “that’s that. Mummy’s all out of sweets.”

She reached for the wheelchair brakes, but then froze.There was a sound, faint but distinct. Thump… tap… thump… tap…

Not footsteps. Crutches.

Polly looked her head toward the sidewalk, her heart giving a small jolt.

Out of the shadows came a figure, draped in a white sheet, its shape unmistakably a female but off somehow. The sheet hung unevenly, brushing against the ground and catching the orange glow of the porch light. Beneath it, Polly could make out the dull gray glint of metal crutches, and the way one leg moved stiffly, as if trapped in a cast.

The feminine figure stopped at the bottom of the porch steps.

“Trick or treat?” came a soft, almost melodic voice from under the sheet.

Polly blinked, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I’m all out of candy.”

There was a pause. Then the voice said, quietly but clearly:“Trick, then it is.”

Polly frowned. “...Sorry?”

The ghostly figure climbed the steps slowly, the crutches tapping against the wood with each movement. When she reached Polly’s chair, she leaned closer. A cold, sharp breeze seemed to follow her.

She extended one crutch and gently tapped the edge of Polly’s plastered legs. “May I?”"Uh...what?" Polly was puzzled by her request."Your toes, can I touch them?"

Polly hesitated. There was something unnerving about the calm in the woman’s voice, but she was already close enough that refusing felt rude or maybe even unsafe.

“Uh… sure, I guess.”

The mysterious lady crouched slightly, her sheet shifting as she reached out. Her fingers brushed over Polly’s toes, pale and delicate, and icy cold. Polly flinched at the chill.

“You like these, don’t you?” the woman said softly. “Casts. You used to enjoy them.”

Polly’s mouth went dry. “What...what are you talking about?” she stammered.

“You dreamed of this,” the mysterious lady continued, her tone neither accusing nor kind. “You wanted to spend Halloween in plaster, just like this. You planned to trick your friends, pretend to be injured. But fate played its own trick, didn’t it? You wanted make-believe pain… and you got the real thing.”

Polly’s eyes widened. “Who are you?”

“I’m nobody,” she said simply. “A wondering person of the season, maybe. Or maybe just your conscience in disguise.”

She stood upright, tapping one crutch against the porch floor. “You said you were out of candy. But I came for a choice instead. A trick… or a treat. Which one will you choose, Polly?”

Polly swallowed hard, unsure whether to laugh or scream. “What… what kind of choice?”

“That,” the mysterious lady said, her tone lowering to a whisper, “depends on what you truly want from this night… and what you’re willing to pay for it.”

The air grew colder. The porch light flickered.

Polly gripped the armrest of her wheelchair, staring at the ghostly woman standing before her.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

The ghostly woman’s voice was calm, but every word seemed to echo inside Polly’s head.

“You have two choices,” she said softly. “The first, you’ll be healed completely. Your bones, your shoulder, your legs , all good as new. But you’ll never wear casts again. Not even for play. That chapter of your life will close forever.”

Polly’s brow furrowed. “And the second?”

“You may keep them,” the ghostly woman continued, tracing a circle on the porch with her crutch tip. “Keep the plaster, the feeling, the fascination but every cast you wear will come with a price. A real one. Pain, loss, time… something will always be taken from you.”

Polly’s heartbeat quickened. “Why would I have to choose something like that?” she demanded. “You’re not some kind of genie granting wishes. And I don’t owe you, or anyone, it's my life.”

The ghostly lady tilted her head slightly beneath the sheet, silent.

“I own my life,” Polly went on, her voice trembling but firm. “I make my own choices. I don’t need someone to tell me what I can or can’t be. If I want to play with casts, I will. If I want to heal, I’ll heal. I decide, not you.”

For a long moment, the ghost said nothing. Then she gave a slow nod.

“Fair enough.”

She turned and began to move away, her crutches tapping softly against the wooden steps as she descended to the street.

From the bottom of the porch, she glanced back, her voice drifting through the cold air like smoke.

“I see you, Polly. You want to be healthy… yet you still long for the plaster. You can’t let it go.”

Before Polly could respond, the figure faded. The sheet fluttered as if caught in a gust of wind, and then she was gone.

Polly sat frozen in her chair, her breath shallow. The street was empty again, silent except for the rustling leaves.

“Was she right?” she murmured.

She looked down at her heavy casts, the white plaster that wrapped her from toes to thighs, her locked shoulder, the stiff ache beneath it all. There was truth in what the ghost had said. She did want to heal, to walk freely again… but she also couldn’t deny that part of her that missed this feeling, the strange comfort, the attention, the fragility.

She wanted both.

The thought gnawed at her until she finally sighed and wheeled herself forward. “Maybe she’s still around,” she muttered. “Maybe I can ask her what she meant.”

Her porch had a small ramp that led to the street. She maneuvered toward it, the wheels squeaking slightly. The night air bit at her face as she descended a little too fast.

“Easy, easy…” she whispered, pressing her right hand against the wheel to slow down.

But the weight of both legs in plaster made the wheelchair front-heavy. The chair rolled faster, picking up speed as it hit the slope.

“Whoa, no—no, no!”

The wheels clattered against the asphalt, and before Polly could steer, she found herself in the middle of the road.

Her heart pounded. She tried to turn the chair, but with her left arm trapped in the spica cast, legs in popped up leg rests, only her right hand was free and it wasn’t enough. The wheelchair refused to move back out of the road.

“Come on… come on!” she hissed, trying to pivot, the rubber tires screeching softly.

Then she saw it.

A pair of headlights appeared at the end of the street, small at first, then growing brighter, faster, closer. A horn blared, sharp and panicked.

Polly’s eyes widened. “Oh, God—!”

The light flooded her vision, white and blinding. For a split second, she thought she saw the faint shape of the ghost woman standing beside the road again, still and watching.

Then came the rush of sound, metal, wind, and a scream she wasn’t sure was hers and everything went black.*********************************Part 3A steady beep... beep... beep... echoed in Polly’s ears before she could even open her eyes. The sound was distant at first, like it was coming through water. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and every attempt to move made her realize something was very wrong.

When she finally managed to blink her eyes open, the sterile white ceiling above her came into focus, fluorescent light spilling over her vision, too bright at first.

Her body felt… strange. Heavy.

She tried to turn her head, but her neck wouldn’t move. It took her a few seconds to realize why.

A solid weight pressed against her neck and shoulders, a Minerva cast, white and rigid, covering her entire neck and the back of her head, with a forehead strap that locked her gaze straight ahead. She could barely even glance to the side.

A wave of confusion hit her. She tried to lift an arm, but both were immobilized, thick white plaster encased each arm completely, from her fingertips to her chest. They were set forward this time, elbows bent slightly, suspended by slings attached above the bed. Her thumbs were also plastered, frozen in the same pale shell.

Her chest tightened as she looked down, or as far as she could, given the cast. Both of her legs were in long, white casts that didn’t stop at the thighs this time. They extended all the way to her waist, molded together in a single solid double hip spica cast. Each leg was elevated by wide cloth slings, her toes poking out from the plaster tips, both of them bandaged and casted all the way up to her big toes.

Four steel rods connected the casts on the lower rim of shoulder spica to the hip spica, forming a rigid frame that made it impossible to twist or shift even an inch.

The faint tickle of tape on her face told her there was something on her nose. A mirror on the far wall revealed a small nasal cast, holding her nose straight. Her left eye was covered with an eyepatch, taped securely in place.

For a long moment, Polly just lay there in silent, disoriented, breathing slowly through the ache in her ribs.

Then the door opened.

Two familiar voices drifted in, muffled by the hallway noise.

“Careful, Joy,” one of them said.

“I am,” the other replied.

Cindy limped into the room first, her right leg now in a full long leg cast, the same pink tone as before but heavier, stretching from her toes to her upper thigh. She used forearm crutches, moving gingerly. Beside her was Joy, her left arm still in a sling, but now she, too, had a long leg cast, plain white, her toes painted with bright nail polish. She leaned heavily on an underarm crutch with her good arm.

Cindy’s eyes widened when she saw Polly awake. “Oh, thank God,” she said, hurrying or rather hobbling closer.

“Hey there, plaster princess,” Cindy said with a weak grin. “You’ve been out for, what, two days now?”

Polly’s voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. “...Two days?”

Cindy nodded, settling beside her bed. “Yeah. That was one hell of a Halloween night.” She gave a tired laugh. “We had an accident on our way back from the party, a car slipped at the intersection. Nothing life-threatening, but we got pretty banged up. Joy broke her leg, and I managed to fracture mine too.”

Polly blinked slowly, trying to process the words. “And… me?”

Cindy’s expression softened. “You… you had your own accident at home. They found you in the street. Looked like your wheelchair rolled off the porch and hit the curb hard. You’re lucky to be alive, Polly.”

Joy winced, glancing at the rods connecting Polly’s casts. “They had to do a lot of work to fix you up, huh?”

Polly’s throat tightened. “So... it’s all real,” she murmured. “Not... a dream.”

Cindy leaned closer. “Yeah, it’s real. But you’re safe now.”

Polly’s one visible eye shifted toward the window, where the city lights glowed faintly against the night. Her mind wandered back to the ghostly figure and her calm voice.

You can’t let it go.

The words echoed faintly in her memory.

She wanted to tell Cindy what she’d seen, what she’d heard but she stopped herself. How could she explain it without sounding insane or crazy?

So she just exhaled and whispered, “I guess this was my trick…”

Cindy tilted her head. “What?”

Polly forced a faint smile. “Nothing. Just… Halloween humor.”

The monitor beeped steadily, filling the quiet that followed.

Cindy reached over and rested her good hand gently on Polly’s casted forearm. “Well, whatever happens, we’re all in this together now,” she said softly.

Joy nodded. “Yeah. Next year, maybe we all skip the costumes.”"For me, I think I won't need costumes at all. I might have still be wearing these till next Halloween." Polly said with a chuckle, just a little though it came out as a weak, breathy sound.

As her friends laughed quietly, Polly’s gaze drifted toward the window again. For a brief second, she thought she saw a faint shape outside, a pale outline at the edge of the streetlights, leaning on two crutches, watching the hospital from afar.

But when she blinked, it was gone.THE END?