They said the house, situated as it was on a dead-end street with overgrown grass that had gone to seed, was haunted. One shutter swung from the window, like a fake eyelash that’d come unglued.
A hint of danger clung to the wind like a man with a grudge. That’s what drew them on Halloween night, armed with cartons of eggs and toilet paper rolls. The promise of excitement, and of doing something bold and daring.
The house was a welcome break from the monotony of school. It was not a math problem or a sentence to diagram. It was not a videogame they’d beaten countless times. Its secrets were too complex for the Konami Code to break. It made them face one of life’s essential truths, that extra lives and power boosts didn’t exist. There were no do-overs. It was just them and the darkness of the house.
The echo of tricks and treats and doorbells ringing in the night faded at the end of the street. One by one, shaking legs carried the boys to the end of the driveway. They peeked through the windows in case a ghost or spirit had decided to visit on this, the one night they were welcome among the living.
The crunch of egg against siding pierced the silence. Then, the laughter began. At first, only mischievous giggling as paper rolls flew into the sky, shrouding the ancient tree in the lawn with a ghostly veil.
The laughter turned cruel and deep, and although there was no breeze, the tree’s branches stirred.
The children stopped; their frightened glances darted from face to face.
They dropped the remaining toilet paper rolls and empty egg cartons, and ran.