Long ago, in the quaint little town of Creepsville, there lived a peculiar figure named Jasper. Now Jasper was a bit strange. He lived alone in a withered Victorian mansion at the end of Elm Street – the last place any trick-or-treater would dare approach.
Every Halloween, the mansion would come alive with eerie music, dancing shadows, and an uncanny sense of dread. The children watched from a safe distance as one brave soul dared approach. Alfie, a young lad not older than ten, held his sack of sweets tightly and walked up the cobweb-laced steps.
He knocked on the rotting wooden door and it creaked open. Inside, Jasper greeted him, dressed as the scariest monster imaginable. Alfie screamed and ran out, dropping his sack of Halloween candy. The children squealed and scattered, leaving a trail of dropped candy all the way home.
In his quiet mansion, Jasper picked up the dropped candy and giggled. He may have been old and reclusive, but Halloween was the one night he could let his inner child play. After all, who said the neighborhood recluse couldn’t have a little fun?