No costume, no candy, no mercy.

On Halloween night, the houses in the small town of Bradley Hollow were ablaze with lights. The damp air was filled with the smell of candy and the sound of children laughing. Children were calling from door to door—"Trick or Treat!" Some dressed as vampires, some as wizards, some as ghosts, carrying buckets of candy.

But that night, a different kind of trick-or-treater emerged from the shadows.

He had no costume. No mask.

He was wearing only a dirty hoodie. His face was hidden, but his eyes were unusually bright.

He was young—only 10 or 11 years old—but there was a chill in his presence, as if the night had suddenly grown thicker.

He first appeared at the Fletcher family's doorstep.

Mrs. Fletcher opened the door with a smile and said,

— "Oh dear, where's your costume? No candy without a costume, sweetie!"

The boy didn't say anything. He just stared.

The door slowly closed. And then… a loud scream from inside the house.

The next morning, the police found the Fletcher family's door locked from the inside, but the bodies of three members were hanging upside down, candy wrappers wrapped around their necks.

That night was October 31.

No one knew who was doing all this. But it didn't take long for the story to spread.

"No one gets candy without a costume."

This was the custom in the town.

And today someone made a mistake.

A teenager named Abigail didn't like Halloween night. Wearing a costume and running after candy wasn't her thing. She wanted to spend her time making hot chocolate and reading a book.

However, her body shivered as she looked out the window.

A little boy was standing at the end of their driveway.

He walked toward the door—slow, silent steps.

Abigail turned off the room light, as if no one was home.

But there was a knock on the door.

Knock knock knock.

He swung the door open once, twice, three times.

Then it was silent.

Abigail sat there, holding her breath.

A minute later, a shadow slid past the window.

Then the kitchen door opened—Abigail hadn’t locked it.

Then a strange sound began—like footsteps, but something scraping on the floor.

She looked toward the kitchen—and saw the boy.

But it wasn’t human anymore.

His eyes were the color of candy, red and white, and his face looked like it was wrapped in plastic, and he was smiling.

Candy canes in both hands—sharp metal cut into pieces.

Abigail ran up the stairs, closed the door, and grabbed the phone.

Before she could dial 911... the lights went out.

A voice whispered—

“No costume… no candy… no mercy.”

When the police arrived, Abigail’s door was locked from the inside. But no one was inside.

An empty candy basket lay on the floor.

And on the wall was written in bold, blood-red letters—

“He asked. They refused.”

The town was in mourning.

People had been staying out on the streets since the next day.

Everyone was saying—it wasn’t a person. It was the spirit of a forgotten child—whom someone had once locked the door without giving him candy.

He never came back.

Rumor has it that he got lost one night and froze to death.

He didn't have a costume on, so no one paid him any attention.

And that contempt has now returned with a vengeance.

Since then, the people of Bradley Hollow have never closed a single door on Halloween night.

Everyone has a basket of candy outside, so that if he comes... he won't return empty-handed.

But no one knows... if he'll come...

or...

has he already entered your town?