It was Halloween night, in the small town of Nevermore. A place, where a chilling tale of old, whispered in hushed tones, still sent shivers down the spine of every town member. The old haunted mansion on the hill, they said, housed the ghost of Old Man Murphy, a once prosperous banker who had mysteriously disappeared without a trace.
This year, audacious young Timmy decided to brave the mansion. He climbed the dilapidated steps, cobwebs clinging as he opened the creaky door. Suddenly seeing a floating figure, he shrieked, dropping his candy bag.
“Is that you, Old Man Murphy?” he gulped. The ghost turned and much to his surprise, it was not Old Man Murphy but his own Uncle Joe, with a sheet over his head, who chuckled at his own ghostly disguise.
“I forgot it’s Halloween! I decided to sort out some old clothes stored here and tried this sheet as a joke. Never imagined it would scare you this much, lad!” Uncle Joe laughed.
And so, the mystery of the haunted mansion was solved. As for Old Man Murphy, it turned out he had simply retired to Florida. The cryptic tale, reduced to a racy Halloween punchline, echoed in Nevermore, as the town prepared for next year’s spectral venture.