Once upon a time, a candy corn witch followed me around on Halloween, as if I had a schedule and she was my escort. Dressed in striking yellows and oranges, she had a shrill laugh that could rattle the sweetest of grandmas.
Every year, she’d show up right on my doorstep, just as the pumpkin’s clock struck midnight. Rarely uttering a word, she’d simply extend her orange tinted fingers, offering a single piece of candy corn.
This perpetual routine lasted until one peculiar Halloween, as the punkin-clock struck midnight, the candy corn witch was nowhere in sight. As panic welled up, I spotted a piece of candy corn right on my doormat.
Feeling sad and confused, I reluctantly welcomed the new Halloween tradition. But, as the candy corn melted in my mouth, a shrieking cackle echoed suddenly, causing the moonlight to flicker. I spun around, expecting to see her ruby-red lips cracked into a wicked grin.
But rather, I found my girlfriend, Amy, laughing heartily, dressed from head-to-toe in striking yellows and oranges. “Gotcha!” she exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “So,” she chuckled, “Ready for another year of candy corn trickery?”