Harry's Happy Halloween

There was only one rule: don't open the door. The throng of youngsters standing beside the open, dilapidated gate buzzed with excitement, reading the sign on the gatepost.

They'd always passed the old house by. The covered porch was foreboding. The old woman who lived within would occasionally park her bony frame there, in a rickety chair. Though she never acknowledged passersby, rumor had it to meet her icy gaze was to become frozen in place.

On this crisp Halloween night, though, the house had their full attention. The porch was well-lit and several low tables had been lined up. Each of those tables was heaped with candy – not just any candy, but the good stuff!

The message on the cardboard sign stated, simply, “Fill your bag. Don't open the door.”

Eventually, the bravest boy ran to the porch, scooped handfuls of goodies into his bag and raced away, grinning. Others followed suit. None approached the door, until Harry arrived. The young teen bully shoved his way through the crowd, read the sign and scoffed, “You chicken shits just watch this!”

Harry strode up to the house, took a surreptitious deep breath, turned the doorknob and yanked.

The dark doorway was immediately flooded with an eerie, orange glow and the silhouette of the old woman. Her piercing scream shattered the night. Harry turned and ran at full speed down the sidewalk, out the gate and into the night. As he passed the group at the gate, they all noticed the wet spot spreading on the front of his jeans.

Eleanor emerged from the doorway, laughing merrily, and and waved to the children that remained at her gate. “There was only one rule. Come on up, kids!” Oh, how she loved Halloween!