It was Halloween night. Sarah Blakely’s sixteen-year-old heart was trembling with fear as she lay under the covers in her darkened bedroom. A killer was in her house, and fear was robbing her of her karate skill. Master Wu always emphasized to his students the importance of emotional control.
That control had fled. She was frightened.
--No, she was terrified! Her stomach was a lump of ice, and the cold ran through her veins, throughout her young body.
There were times before when she had known fear – like the time when she was ten and thunder blasted her awake. Stormy wind brushed tree branches against the house, and the next flash of lightning blazed through her bedroom curtains. The house trembled in the storm, and she trembled as well. Then Ruby, her pet spaniel, jumped on the bed and pressed against her. Fear-distracted, Sarah had put her arms around Ruby and talked gently to her. She was rewarded by a cold nose pressed against her cheek.
Relieving Ruby’s fear had cancelled Sarah’s, and the two went to sleep, as rain beat against the window.
Or there was another Halloween, when she was fourteen. On a dare, several of them went to a foggy graveyard at midnight. Monuments loomed out of the fog, headstones tripped them, and it was capped by a greeting from an owl that caused all of them to shiver.
Then Bobby said “Boo!”, leading to squeals and screams. . .and giggles broke out, and soon they were hugging each other and laughing.
This was different. This Halloween, she was home alone. Her mother had a business meeting in the next town and, after the meeting, they were going to celebrate the conviction of Jake Alexander for embezzlement. Dad, Sarah remembered, had been the arresting officer.
They had discussed it at lunch. “I think I should go to the meeting by myself,” her mother said.
Her dad raised an eyebrow. “Can’t leave her on Halloween, ‘’cause the goblins’ll getcha if you don’t watch out’?”
Her mom, Alice, grinned. “Robert, you always trivialize things.”
“Only ‘trivial’ things,” her dad said, chuckling.
“Well, if you go with me, you aren’t going to wear your badge!”
“Yes, Mommy,” Robert Blakely said in a falsetto voice.
“Robert Blakely!” Alice giggled. Then, sobering, she added, “Being a cop is a part of you.” With a touch of pride, she added, “And you’re good at it. But that doesn’t keep me from worrying about Sarah.”
“Well, she’s planning on going to the Halloween party Gina and Bobby are giving. We’ve known her friends for years. They don’t egg houses or turn dumpsters over. I think she’ll be all right.”
“Besides,” Sarah volunteered, “I just got my black belt in karate!”
So her parents went out of town.
The first sign of trouble came at the Halloween party when someone, twirling the radio dial for music, heard a local station announce that there was a killer in town, someone who had sliced three teens to pieces.
After the first moment of silence, Sarah’s friend Gina said, “I’ll bet that’s some kinda Halloween prank by the station. I’ll bet they’re just trying to scare us.” Gina was only five feet tall, but she had a fierce determination about her, as always.
Bobby said, “My dad’s a county commissioner. I’ll call him and find out.”
After he was on the phone for a few minutes, he turned back to the group with a frown on his face. “Dad says it’s for real!” he announced. Unlike his girl friend, Bobby was six feet tall and slender. Soberness was unusual for him; he was more often cheerful and mischievous.
There were several seconds of silent panic, and then Gina squealed defiantly, “Let’s go trick-or-treating!”
“With a murderer on the loose?” Bobby asked, skeptically.
“Hey – it’s a big city!” Gina said. “This is a big city,” she repeated, trying to increase her confidence. She stood stiff and straight and intense. “He can’t be everywhere! I don’t wanna let just one guy spoil my Halloween.”
“Okay,” Bobby agreed. “Why not?”
Sarah had originally considered wearing her karate gi as a Halloween costume, but then dismissed the idea as disrespectful.
They wandered the neighborhood for an hour, collecting candy, and then everything broke up and Sarah went home.
After locking all doors and windows, Sarah turned off most lights, slipped into pajamas, switched off her bedroom lights and crawled into bed.
She was almost asleep when she heard a creak in the hall.
Footsteps?
She had left Ruby in her doghouse in the back yard, so it wasn’t her.
Another creak, and fear started as a chilling ball in her stomach, and spread throughout her body. How could anyone get in? Then she remembered TV shows where glass-cutters were used to open a locked window. She tried to think of anything in her bedroom she could use for a weapon, but all she could think of was a fingernail file.
Why hadn’t she gone into softball instead of karate? A ball bat would be a good weapon. Sure, Master Wu had assured them that hands were a lethal weapon when you mastered karate – but he had also emphasized that emotions should be controlled. Fear drying her throat was an emotion she couldn’t control.
Another creak.
What could she do?
When she heard her doorknob turn, she would have screamed – but she couldn’t, because her throat was too tight.
The door opened, her light flipped on, and a familiar voice said, “Baby?”
Her father!
Sarah was out of bed instantly and ran to him, threw her arms around him. “Hey, hey,” he said. “It’s okay! When we heard about the killings, we decided to come back home.” Patting her on the back, he went on, “It’s okay, Baby. Everything’s all right.”
Sniffling, Sarah lifted her head – just in time to see a man dressed in a scarecrow costume. He was behind her father, a knife held high to drive down into her father’s back.
Sudden outrage flowed through Sarah’s body. Focusing her wrath was easy, because Master Wu had taught them the use of anger, as it was a common emotion when fighting occurred. In an instant she became a killing machine, and the intruder had no chance, regardless of his response. She pushed her father aside against the wall, then slammed stiffened fingers into the man’s throat.
He fell to the floor, gasping and holding his neck.
Her father straightened up, looked at the man on the floor, then at his daughter. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “That karate paid off!” He hugged her, then knelt to handcuff the man and pull the mask – a cloth bag with a slit for vision -- off the scarecrow. “Jake Alexander!” he said. “What the hell –“
“Damn you, Blakely!” Alexander croaked. He rubbed his throat.
“Brought down by a girl!” Blakely chuckled. “Well, you’re done for, Jake. I see, now, what you were up to. Everyone would think there was a homicidal maniac loose, and I got killed trying to save my daughter! No one would have suspected you. Sorry, but it didn’t work.”
After the police left, Sarah and her parents sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. “It almost didn’t work, Dad,” she murmured softly.
“What didn’t work?” her father asked, raising an eyebrow.
“My karate! I was scared spitless, and couldn’t do a thing!”
“Couldn’t have proved that to me,” her father said, grinning. “I saw what you did to Alexander.”
“Master Wu warned us about emotion,” Sarah explained. “He told us that uncontrolled emotions would interfere with our success. He was right!”
“But Baby, I saw you –“
She held up a restraining hand, smiling. “Except for one emotion, Dad – anger! Master Wu showed us how to channel our anger into a drive to succeed. Before you got here, I was scared – but when I saw him about to stab you, I got mad! I used that anger to defeat him.” Sarah smiled at her father and squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Dad.”
Illustrations by Ron Wilber and Roy Coker
With many thanks to Ken Kraus for being a catalyst
Sometimes karate might be difficult