The seventh time the same group rang his doorbell, Teddy phoned the police.
He peered through the window to offer the desk sergeant a description. The pint-sized Dracula on his doorstep breathed silent words into the witch's ear, while the fifth-grade Frankenstein rocked back and forth on his feet and whistled a piercing tune like a cartoon character aggressively professing his innocence.
The tiny sheet-ghost nearly hidden in the back glanced up and met Teddy's wide gaze, and Teddy yelped and dropped the phone. He could hear the distant click when the officer on the other end hung up, and he heard the crack as the bulb blew out in the hallway and the cavernous walls shot up into the darkness above him, leaving Teddy alone in his mind.
Ding-Dong
He had humored them the first time they rang, even though he'd already turned off his porch light. He delivered his sternest frown the second time, but they met his tone with silence. Unnerved, he had simply stood behind the door waited them out the third time, and also the fourth and fifth. But had they ever truly left his property? Did they take his candy and run around the house, ducking under windows and leaping over lights like Halloween sprites to punish him for all the years he'd neglected his duties as a giver of candy? But he was new in town, and he had come from far away, and how could they possibly know about--
Ding-Dong
Teddy leaped up and glanced through the peephole again, but the children were gone, split between two raiding parties dancing and spinning along the walls and pounding as they went, ratta-tapping out their melody as their laughter echoed in the night.
He fell to the floor and clutched his head. The backdoor was locked, but had he closed the windows? A blast of frigid Autumn roared down the stairs in answer, but could they climb to the portal in his bedroom? Nails scratched on the window sill, glass rattled in its frame as Teddy held himself and collapsed in the darkness.
How could he have forgotten all those years? How could he ignore the warnings on the radio that began to sing around September, all the stories of the things that walked the streets on Beggar's Night and wore the laws of Halloween?
Tiny footfalls fell around him as they filed down the stairs and surrounded Teddy, Teddy who moaned and wept in a ball on the cold, hard wood.
How could they know? he thought to himself as plastic bags crinkled open and metal squealed on metal. I didn't carve the pumpkin. I didn't buy enough candy. I didn't pay the toll... But how could they know?
A gentle, prickly claw laid itself along his cheek as one leaned in. Teddy felt the sheet drift beneath its shivering breath as the ghost opened up its mouth and whispered:
"Trick or treat..."
He peered through the window to offer the desk sergeant a description. The pint-sized Dracula on his doorstep breathed silent words into the witch's ear, while the fifth-grade Frankenstein rocked back and forth on his feet and whistled a piercing tune like a cartoon character aggressively professing his innocence.
The tiny sheet-ghost nearly hidden in the back glanced up and met Teddy's wide gaze, and Teddy yelped and dropped the phone. He could hear the distant click when the officer on the other end hung up, and he heard the crack as the bulb blew out in the hallway and the cavernous walls shot up into the darkness above him, leaving Teddy alone in his mind.
Ding-Dong
He had humored them the first time they rang, even though he'd already turned off his porch light. He delivered his sternest frown the second time, but they met his tone with silence. Unnerved, he had simply stood behind the door waited them out the third time, and also the fourth and fifth. But had they ever truly left his property? Did they take his candy and run around the house, ducking under windows and leaping over lights like Halloween sprites to punish him for all the years he'd neglected his duties as a giver of candy? But he was new in town, and he had come from far away, and how could they possibly know about--
Ding-Dong
Teddy leaped up and glanced through the peephole again, but the children were gone, split between two raiding parties dancing and spinning along the walls and pounding as they went, ratta-tapping out their melody as their laughter echoed in the night.
He fell to the floor and clutched his head. The backdoor was locked, but had he closed the windows? A blast of frigid Autumn roared down the stairs in answer, but could they climb to the portal in his bedroom? Nails scratched on the window sill, glass rattled in its frame as Teddy held himself and collapsed in the darkness.
How could he have forgotten all those years? How could he ignore the warnings on the radio that began to sing around September, all the stories of the things that walked the streets on Beggar's Night and wore the laws of Halloween?
Tiny footfalls fell around him as they filed down the stairs and surrounded Teddy, Teddy who moaned and wept in a ball on the cold, hard wood.
How could they know? he thought to himself as plastic bags crinkled open and metal squealed on metal. I didn't carve the pumpkin. I didn't buy enough candy. I didn't pay the toll... But how could they know?
A gentle, prickly claw laid itself along his cheek as one leaned in. Teddy felt the sheet drift beneath its shivering breath as the ghost opened up its mouth and whispered:
"Trick or treat..."
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