The moon casts an all-encompassing shadow.
Small kiddies scatter from their houses,
forming a mob of anticipation.
They approach the grim mansion, which towers over the innocent trick-or-treaters.
Paralyzed, they gape.
The brave, alpha child hesitantly advances.
He taps on the door ever so lightly;
an echo rings through the labyrinthine halls.
The others squirm as they tiptoe up to the door.
Waiting, the children hear creaking caused by the steady pace of the alleged monster which lies within.
The handle turns so slowly, time seems to cease.
Their eyes sink into their heads as the figure emerges from the shadows.
There, she stands,
barely a head taller than the children.
All at once,
the children gasp and
their eyes resurface from their skulls.
The woman laughs at the now elated children,
inviting them into her house.
She explains, “Wow! I don’t get many visitors.”
One by one, the children piled in, eager to reap the rewards of their bravery.
The old woman says,
“I have heaps of candy in the basement.”
She opens yet another cracking door, and the kids, bounding with energy, stream down the spiral stairs.
With a practiced hand and a slight grin, she closes the door and twists the lock.