It was Halloween night, and in the old, creaky mansion at the end of our street, lived Old Man Jenkins. A man so ancient, cobwebs and ghouls became his friends. No one knew much about him or his spooky abode, but rumour had it, the mansion was haunted.
The screech of our neighborhood owl intensified as we, a brave bunch of kids, decided to unravel the mystery. With each haunting echo, our hearts pounded, yet we approached the mansion.
Armed with flashlights and bolstered by candy-fueled courage, we dared to knock. The door creaked open and inside was Jenkins, his eerie grin glowing in the dim light. We stuttered a timid ‘Trick or Treat’, expecting the worst.
To our astonishment, he began to howl with laughter, inviting us all inside. We cautiously entered and found the mansion filled with puppies. The ‘haunting noises’ were just happy yelps, and the ‘cobwebs’? Only feather duster marks.
Old Man Jenkins was not a fearsome hermit, but a retired circus dog trainer, practicing new tricks with his fluff balls in ‘peace’. The real Halloween surprise was how swiftly the ‘haunted mansion’ turned into our new favorite hangout spot.