Minipost: The Post-Halloween Post (2025)

The crisp sound of fallen leaves, a faint glow from the overly decorated house down the street, an annoying tale spun from an elderly relative priding themselves on a supposed ghost encounter 80 years ago, toddlers’ anguished screams in the grocery store when they sniff out a jumbo-sized bag of lollipops, and the encroaching feeling of paralyzing terror as you see a third grader ring your doorbell dressed as . . . a clown. Leave, Jimmy. No candy for you.

Whether you’re a victim of coulrophobia or not, All Hallow’s Eve has a penchant for evoking and stirring trepidation in us; whether this emotion translates through a scary movie, a convincing supernatural tale, or the unlocking of your unhinged chocolate desires (thanks a lot, Twix), Hollywood productions, familial storytellers, and candy companies prey annually on our vulnerabilities.

Were you to take a poll on what the most harmful emotion is, I’d bet you my secret supply of Butterfingers that the top results would be something along these lines: anger, jealousy, greed, lust. Yet there is one that trumps all these: fear. So what could this momentary perception of fright possibly make us do that any one of these other sentiments could not? Indeed, nothing else is a greater barrier to progress, success, and joy than the restraining chains, the enslaving bonds of fear; nothing shoves us further down the stairway we’ve worked so very hard to build than fear’s fateful whispers; and what else could possibly invoke our deepest insecurities, expose our worst tendencies, and keep us drowning in the quicksand of time than fear? “For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.”

So, with that faux-Poe-esque poem/soliloquy/whatever-the-heck-it-was complete, now we can turn to the next installment in the seemingly never-ending Planet Whiz Kid Halloween saga, and discover what implications the incarnation of fear has on the material world. (Cue the organ music as the audience attempts to comprehend what was just stated.)

The Evening of October 31st, 2025. 10:01 P.M.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Eyes on the clock hands, palms gripping the armrests, thoughts concentrated on a myth. That was the state of Dr. Abraham Van Helsing. Tensely planted in a stiff chair and staring with intent at an antique grandfather clock, the prominent vampire hunter of Transylvania fame was awaiting a fateful encounter that, depending on the outcome, would either bring him new life . . . or final death.

Since receiving his doctorate at an impressive pace in 1968 Amsterdam, Van Helsing had committed his life and career to investigating the paranormal, becoming noted for his exposés detailing Stockholm séances that had led to murders in the area shortly thereafter. He made a pretty penny continuing his investigate work on this front, aiding in exorcist-training, speaking at engagements, and eventually assuming professor work in a region named Transylvania, a rather Gothic town known for its striking locale and eccentric inhabitants. There, he eventually married the love of his life, a phlebotomist named Alice.

Despite their inability to have children, Abe and Alice formed a happy life, both becoming well-respected in the area and enjoying their careers. That was until Halloween night, 1979. Van Helsing, fast asleep, awakened to find Alice missing from their bed. Waiting a few moments, his adrenaline began its activation when a loud noise stemmed from the adjacent room. Springing to his feet, the doctor threw open the bedroom door, dashed across the hall, and abruptly stopped. Not by his own volition, however. He had experienced a sudden dark, brooding force emanating from the other room – something so strong, so overwhelming that it brought him to his knees. While in this helpless state, the weakened individual mustered enough strength to move his eyes upward . . . and what he saw would haunt him for the rest of his life.

A tall, thin individual cloaked in darkness, both physically and metaphorically, held Alice in his arms as if it were to carry her somewhere. It donned some sort of shroud, as illustrated by the icy, sharp wind gusting from the open window and blowing the brute’s cape. But the image that would forever be burned into Van Helsing’s memory would be those piercing, radiating red eyes glaring at him from the shadowed face of his offender. As if this wasn’t enough to witness, suddenly this mystery creature seemed almost to transform, to twist and contort its body until its new shape was utterly unrecognizable to its previous form. It now had a chiropteran configuration, latching its claws onto Alice and taking her along for the ride as it soared out the open window.

After the paralyzing force on Van Helsing’s body had subsided, he chased after the bat, desperately running until it disappeared into the night. Yet the pursuit was far from over.

Promptly, so many of the townspeople’s rumors made more sense. What previously seemed like paranoid conspiracies or shameless bids for attention now appeared to be explanations, antidotes. Folklore had long insisted that unholy beings called vampires resided somewhere within the Hoia-Baciu Forest, occasionally making their way into town, disguised like humans, only to torment their neighbors by viciously snatching their loved ones and disappearing them forever.

Unwilling to simply lose his wife potentially forever, Van Helsing quickly dug deep into the rabbit hole that was the vampire theory. Being the methodical Ph.D. graduate he was, the doctor approached each piece of evidence with a strictly intellectual lens, carefully weighing the significance of everything until he was satisfied with a final conclusion.

And his deduction was this: “Vampires are real. And my wife was taken by one.”

From there, Van Helsing voyaged into the forest, searching every nook, cranny, and crevice for any sign of vampiric activity. What started as a location overview turned into a weeks-long excursion, with the doctor feeling the tolls mentally, physically, and spiritually. Until, finally, he found the promised land.

A large, medieval castle poked through the trees in the distance. Unable to properly gauge his emotions, Van Helsing broke down in a fit of laughter and tears. Little did he know there would be much more of the ladder from here on out.

Van Helsing’s encounter at the Gothic fortress was simply the beginning of a decades-long expedition to rid humanity of the vampiric germ altogether. From international travels to group hunts to bestselling memoirs to honorary prizes, the worst thing to ever happen to the doctor – his wife’s disappearance – ironically became the best thing to ever happen to his career. The esteemed vampire hunter eventually became a household name, thanks in no small part to his captivating Dutch accent, sharp use of the English rhetoric, and fiery personal passion to destroy vampirism at any cost.

Yet through the hundreds of written and oral recountings, and then some, of his experiences hunting, fighting, and killing vampires, Van Helsing never spoke of his first encounter at the castle. The majority public opinion was because it was too devastatingly traumatic for the doctor to speak of even to this day; others claim that something occurred which would forever ruin Van Helsing’s reputation. Yet only two people truly know: Van Helsing, and the creature he encountered.

In the last few years, however, Van Helsing had begun to lose the respect of his fellow members in the scientific community. The doctor had been emboldened by his notoriety and began making logical leaps that required more suspension of disbelief than even some of his most loyal supporters possessed. Based purely on speculation rather than hard proof, Van Helsing began publishing a series of columns positing the existence of a separate realm which he dubbed “Halloweentown”. Not only were members of the vampire species purported to reside there, but other monster-like beings called “sub-creatures”. These included the things of stories: mummies, werewolves, witches, wizards, goblins, you name it. The doctor’s work was condemned by many of his colleagues, and he was abandoned, some may say left for dead, by close friends who had championed his prior anti-vampiric escapades.

So it was an ironic twist of fate when Van Helsing, ever the Luddite traditionalist, was forced to turn to the internet for his idea to gain traction. On X, a sort of cultish discipleship formed around Van Helsing’s theory, with these followers unapologetically labeling themselves “Halloweenies” and calling for a violent revolution to expose the elitist sovereignty supposedly hiding this bombshell from the general public. It wasn’t long before protests became the next addition, popping up in France, Germany, Romania, and elsewhere. These public displays were the only thing keeping Van Helsing’s ideas even remotely relevant to scientific culture . . . or rather pseudoscientific culture.

The crown jewel to Van Helsing’s “hypothesis” laid atop the character called “The Jester King”. Van Helsing posited that one per century on October 31st, this bad actor, the sort of King of the Monsters, returns to the Halloweentown realm in hopes of conquering it and merging it with his own dominion, simply called The Fool’s Realm. This cursed place is where he has covertly harvested an army of sub-creatures intended to act as his minions when he inverts Halloweentown towards his own design.

Unsurprisingly, this sounded too far-fetched for most of Van Helsing’s allies. “Grifter”, “sorcerer”, and “kook” were just some of the names thrown around. Offended by their betrayal, the doctor retreated into darkness the previous autumn and had not been seen in public since.

Hence why the now-infamous man, vampire hunters of vampire hunters, sat alone in his modest home, clutching his chair as he waited for a visit. Not a friendly tea-and-crumpets type of ordeal; indeed, something much more sinister awaited.

Per Van Helsing’s calculation, this, 2025, was the year to expect the return of the Jester King. Of course, he was the only member of his profession who truly believed that a ghoul dressed like a clown would attempt a monster coup on Halloween. Most admitted that it seems a bit on the nose, sans the “Halloweenies”, of course.

Van Helsing pondered all this and more as he uncomfortably gripped even tighter onto the chair as the time progressed. The King was coming. He could feel it.

At that exact moment, a loud noise sprung from the other room.

Van Helsing did not flinch.

Silence.

Then, the creak of old floorboards. An eerie feeling of fate. The knowledge that someone was in the room.

Van Helsing saw movement in the reflection of the grandfather clock, followed by the sight of a mask.

A mask that smiled.

Van Helsing, through the grandfather clock’s reflection, made eye contact with the nemesis: the Jester King.

The Jester King shrieked and cackled an evil laugh, a howl which seemed to take pleasure in the most derisive of human sins, with scorn ingrained within each strained vocal cord.

“Bow, you,” the King jeered.

Van Helsing remained still.

“Kneel, vermin. To your king,” the clown demanded mockingly.

Van Helsing remained still.

Until he didn’t.

With the agility of a millennial, Van Helsing leapt to his feet, weapon in hand. A self-created Anti-Ghoul Defensive Portal Protector, to be exact. The doctor, waiting for this moment since that fateful castle encounter, aimed the ammunition at his enemy, intent on finishing what he started 46 years ago and returning the King to his rightful realm.

However, as he looked straight ahead into the empty, soulless eyes of the King, Van Helsing hesitated for such a brief moment of time it couldn’t even be clocked.

But that was enough for the clown.

The Jester King summoned his sorcery, quickly concocting a magical charm to fire at the only human who ever threatened him.

They fired at the same time, Van Helsing with his shot and the Jester King with his spell.

Both were hit. Van Helsing was repelled backwards by the spell and brought to his knees, collapsing to the floor as he was crushed by the supernatural power. The Jester King, meanwhile, screeched and roared as he felt his power slowly draining, his very presence being sucked away until he had vanished completely from the Earthly realm.

Despite his loss in the battle, Van Helsing had nonetheless won the war. The Jester King was gone.

But he wasn’t back in his own realm.

He was instead banished to his new home: Halloweentown.

There you have it! This story was a bit slower and artsier than normal, so thanks for bearing with it. Hopefully I’ll be back next year to cap it off, ideally on Halloween. The annual tradition of posting my tale a day late continues.

Anyway, Happy Halloween, Happy Thanksgiving, and Merry Christmas if I’m not back before then! In short, Happy Holidays!

And as you reel from the overdose of Snickers, think for a minute: how does fear impact your life, and how can you conquer it?

Whiz Kid out