As the full moon shone down on Elm Street, old Mr. Creville hunched over on his rickety porch, clenching his broom. “They’re just kids,” he growled to himself, “nothin’ to be scared of.” Halloween was not his cup of tea, but he was prepared. From behind a carved, grinning pumpkin, he watched as a group of children, dressed as ghouls and monsters, approached.
Knock. Knock. The sound echoed through the seemingly empty house. On the third knock, the door creaked open on its own. Inside, the children found candy laid out in a trail, leading to a dusty, ominous-looking chest.
Cautiously, the boldest child, dressed as a fierce dragon, reached for the aged lock. As soon as he touched it, a misty figure emerged, sending the startled kids scampering away in pure fright, leaving the candy behind.
As silence fell, Mr. Creville came out from behind the pumpkin, chuckling to himself. He picked up the scattered candy and the holographic projector. “Ain’t no such thing as free candy kiddos! Halloween or not,” he muttered, the grin fading from his face. “Now, time to enjoy my sweets.”
But as he turned, he froze. At the doorway, the real ghost of his house stood smiling, “So nice of you to share, neighbour.”