Every Halloween, grumpy, old Mr. Hawthorne’s mansion stood dark and unwelcoming. No trick, no treat dared to cross the pebble-strewn pathway leading up to his door. Except for this year, when brave Billy decided to venture where no child had ventured before.
Swallowing his fear, Billy pushed open the ominous gate. It creaked alarmingly, echoing through the deserted street. Passing the cobwebs and the gnome with a cracked smile, he proceeded with trepidation up the mossy steps.
With a deep breath, Billy knocked on the towering mahogany door. It swung open with a loud creak to reveal Mr. Hawthorne, clad in an apron smeared with red. His hands held a butcher knife. Billy froze in terror. Was this the end?
But then, from behind Mr. Hawthorne, emerged a fluffy puppy, tail wagging excitedly. Mr. Hawthorne grumbled, “Finally, someone brave enough for some Halloween fun. Meet Butch; I was just fixing us a pot of my famous tomato soup for supper.”
And so, the mystery of the chilling Hawthorne mansion was finally solved. It was not a haunted house; it was simply the home of a lonely old man and his puppy who loved tomato soup. Who would’ve guessed!