THE LAST TRICK-OR-TREATERS
Every Halloween it got worse. Trick-or-treaters wore meaningless plastic costumes, or slapped-on fake blood, or just t-shirts that said “costume.”
Harold gave them candy anyway, but last Halloween had been the final straw. He’d just turned off the porch light when some kids showed up, not wearing costumes at all. They looked bored, not saying anything, just expecting free candy. Little assholes.
"Here’s some advice," Harold said. "Next time, wear costumes. Or at least say ‘Trick-or-Treat’." He’d slammed the door. He was sweating. His heart raced. He felt furious, but also, unexpectedly, afraid. Who wouldn’t be, thought Harold, with that generation in charge of the future?
The next year, his wife handed out candy. She loved seeing the cute ones. Harold shut himself in his study, plotting against costumeless trick-or-treaters.
He could hear everything through his study door.
Doorbell. “Trick-or-Treat!” Laughing. Repeat.
The doorbell again. “Trick-or-Treat!”
"What adorable costumes!" shrieked his wife. "Get in here so I can see you in the light!"
More laughing.
Then, silence.
Harold’s heart pounded. Sweat trickled down his face. He heard the front door click shut.
"Honey?" he yelled.
A thump in the front entryway.
The previous Halloween flashed through Harold’s memory. For the first time he saw every detail of those kids—unremarkable clothes, bland faces. Completely black eyes. Christ. How had he not noticed?
Scratching outside his study door.
Harold googled “Black-Eyed Children,” and protocols for when you’ve accidentally invited them in. Nothing. Nobody ever let them in, it seemed, nobody who’d lived to tell about it. Black-Eyed Children weren’t clever enough to trick anyone into admitting them.
At least not until Harold told them how.
Credits to: whoeverfightsmonster
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WHITE HALLOWEEN
White was all I saw when I came to. I didn’t wake up on a slab like you would expect. I think I’m hanging by my neck from something. I say ‘I think’ because all I can see is white. I can feel the rest of my body, my hands and feet are bound together. I’m dangling weightlessly as the pull on my neck gets tighter…
Someone IS hanging me! But the idiot made the rope too loose! I just need to wiggle out of this! I attempt to yell, only to find my lips are sewn shut. It’s no matter, I think I’m almost free! The white begins turning grey, but I won’t give up…
Kyle was walking back with his kids after a night of trick-or-treating. On his way, he passed by Mr. Crenshaw’s house. He always went all out for Halloween, but never kept his lights on. You’d think anyone THAT into decorating would love seeing the kids. Stopping to marvel at the huge set-up he had, his eyes were immediately drawn to a thrashing animatronic ghost hanging from his tree. It was a white sheet hanging from a thick branch by where the ghost’s neck would be.
What really creeped him out was the way it moved… It had no pattern to speak of…and he could hear chilling moans coming from it. This wasn’t just a decoration, there was complex machinery at work here. His two little girls were clearly uncomfortable watching the ghost. He took one last look at the yard before leaving and thought to himself: “I guess the dozen or so other ones ran out of batteries”
Credits to: Gunnkk
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