Halloween Short Story: Dawn of the Hipsters

Halloween Short Story: Dawn of the Hipsters

 A small, pink house sat in the woods just outside of Portland Oregon. It stood two stories tall, with three bedrooms and one bathroom.  Mike, his wife Susan, and their daughter Denise had lived there since the 1980’s. Mike worked a job in middle management, which allowed the family to thrive in their upper-middle-class lifestyle. He worked a regular nine-hour day and spent the rest of his time with his loving wife and daughter. The three lived happily, until March 1994, when they became the victims of carbon monoxide poisoning. While they left their physical form, their spirits remained present in the house.

Although the incident was tragic, it only strengthened their love as a family. Haunting a house may not seem like the ideal afterlife, but Mike and his family relished in the experience. Their deaths allowed them to forget their worldly issues, and focus on the maintaining their loving relationship




Mike woke up around nine o’clock and drifted downstairs into the kitchen. While his features were discernible, most notably his brown hair, his translucent skin gave him a subtle appearance. He entered the kitchen to find his wife Susan frying eggs on the stove. Unlike her husband, Susan was short, with blonde hair. Susan and their daughter Denise both shared the same translucence.


“Hey honey,” said Mike as he drifted into the kitchen.


“Hey Mikey, how’d you sleep?” She poured coffee into a mug and handed it to Mike.


“Pretty good.”


“Breakfast be ready in a couple minutes.”


“Okay, hey where’s Denise?”


“She’s in the living room.”


Mike floated into the living room and found Denise reading The Hobbit by J.R.R Tolkien. Denise loved reading. Since they were unable to leave, she could only read the books that were still in the house. The Hobbit was her favorite.

Mike sat with Denise while she read. He enjoyed his cup of coffee in her silent company while watching the sunrise. Mike felt a sense of tranquility wash over him. While he had dreaded mornings in life, he found himself eagerly awaiting every sunrise in death.


 “Breakfast is ready,” Susan called from the kitchen.


The three of them sat down the table in the kitchen and began to eat their breakfast of fried eggs with bacon and hash browns.


“What a beautiful morning. I’m so glad to be spending it with my loving family,” said Mike. Denise playfully rolled her eyes at the comment, while Susan smiled and placed her hand onto Mike’s. The moment was cut short, however, by the sound of people at the front door. At first, the family thought nothing of the sound. No one had stepped foot in their house in decades. They continued to enjoy their breakfast.


“Oh my god it’s so retro!” yelled a voice from outside.


“What was that?” asked Denise.


“I don’t know,” said Mike.


The front door swung open.




            A short, oddly dressed couple entered the house. The man sported unkempt mutton chops and wore a train conductor’s hat, a flannel shirt, and a scarf. His girlfriend wore rainbow aviators with no lenses and a lime green hoodie with no sleeves. She also wore black stockings and an American flag skirt.


“Hide!” Mike yelled. The family ducked under the table.


 “What are they?” asked Susan.


 “I don’t know,” Mike answered.


 “They look like homeless people,” said Denise.


 The hipsters walked around the house and began redecorating. They hung posters for the Smiths and Neutral Milk Hotel in the living room and put a record player on the dining room table. Then they entered the kitchen.


 “Man it’s freezing in here.” Said the girl.


The hipsters began rifling through the drawers and marveled at the retro appliances like the family’s coffee grinder.


 “Maybe I should go talk to them,” Mike whispered to Susan. Susan tried to protest, but Mike came out from the table anyway.


 “Hey guys listen it’s great that you stopped by,” said Mike. “But I think it’s time for you to leave.”


 The hipsters, unable to see or hear Mike, continued digging through the drawers.


 “Hey!” Mike screamed. “I said get out!”


 Still, unaware of Mike, one of the hipsters said, “We should totally throw a party here.”


 “Oh my god we should,” agreed her companion.


 About an hour later, dozens of hipsters came to the house wearing skin-tight jeans and skull caps. They drank Pabst Blue Ribbon and listened to albums from Mike’s record collection. At one point during the party, one of the hipsters decided to play the song “Footloose” by Kenny Loggins. The whole party sprung to their feet and began to dance.


 “Why are all these guys dancing to Footloose?” Susan asked, “This song is terrible.”


 “Yeah nobody likes footloose!” screamed Mike. “It’s time we get rid of them once and for all!”




While the hipsters awkwardly danced to “Footloose”, Mike used the telephone to call the local ghost priest. Mike explained the situation and asked for the priest’s immediate help. The priest arrived moments later carrying a large golden cross and a bottle of holy water. He met with Mike and the family underneath the table.


“We’re sorry to bother you father,” explained Mike. “But we didn’t know where else to turn.”


“It’s quite alright,” replied the priest. “I have never seen something this out of hand. It may be too late for me to stop them, but I’ll see what I can … are they dancing to Footloose?”


“I know, right?” replied Mike.


“I don’t get it. Is it a joke?” asked the priest.


“I don’t think so,” said Denise. “I think they just like things that suck.”

The priest watched for a moment and his confusion grew even greater.


“Anyway,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises.”


The ghost priest walked around the house waving the cross screaming, “The Power of the Holy ghost compels you!”


The hipsters did not notice as they were too busy dancing. The priest then opened his bottle of holy water and splashed it onto the crowd. Some of the water splashed on the record player and caused the music to stop. The hipsters looked at each other in silence. A few of them continued to dance as a joke, but they too eventually succumbed to the awkwardness. Another moment went by before one of the hipsters said,

“This is lame, let go buy a case of PBR and watch a mumblecore movie at my place.” The hipsters had been defeated. They filed out one by one never to return.

Also appears in Jokes Literary Review Issue 7  http://www.jokesliteraryreview.com/dawn-of-the-hipsters-raoul-marlowe  

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