Halloween Front Porch

As I watched, hidden in the shadows, a child, no more than four or five approached the house at the end of the cul-de-sac shivering in the crisp Autumn air, and, as I watched, she knocked on the door to the house, candle-light flickering just under the dusty old curtains, visible just for a second, then gone, hidden under the dark drapes, shielding them once again.

As I watched, both the child and the door, I wondered. I wondered who’d live in the old, desolate house, who cared to live in that crumbling, ancient, gloomy looking house, with its porch decorated permanently for Halloween. Suddenly, I was jolted out of my musings as the child let out a bloodcurdling scream, fleeing the dank, once grand house. Shocked that such a loud sound could come from such a small person, I looked up. An old women was standing at the door, holding a bowl of candy and looking defeated. She sighed and slowly turned into her house, murmuring under her breath “It happens every year, and I don’t even know why.”