Once upon a ghoulish Halloween night, young Max decided to do what his friends never dared – ring the bell of The Widow’s House. A house so old, bats had inherited the attic and rumor had it, a hunched shadow roamed its hallways.
Armed with a single carved pumpkin, Max pressed the rickety gate open, its creepy creak drowned by the sound of his pounding heart. A gusty wind emerged, eddying the dead autumn leaves; it seemed like the old house breathed.
Max bravely extended a finger to the rusted doorbell, trembling with adrenaline, when the oak door creaked open. Sitting by the doorway, there was, a gnarled, hunched figure; the supposed haunted shadow.
“A trick or a treat dear?”, the widow murmured, drawing out a tray of warm cookies and candy, her face barely visible under the cloak.
Max, quite taken aback, stuttered, “A-a treat?”
To Max’s surprise, the widow’s laughter filled the room above the howling wind and her face popped out from under the cloak. In place of the haggard crone he’d been led to expect, shone a friendly face, twinkling eyes framed by laugh lines – utterly stereotyped and misunderstood.
“Heh.. you’d be the first in decades”, she winked at Max, “Anyone brave enough for a cookie isn’t too scared to find… friends come in all guises during Halloween, even in a haunted house!”