The street was quiet now, the kids had gone home, and the only light came from the streetlamps and the flickering jack-o'-lantern on his porch.
He had carved the pumpkin earlier that day, giving it a wide, crooked grin and triangular eyes. But now, in the darkness, the orange glow gave it an unsettling look, the shadows making its grin seem too wide, too⦠sharp.
As Jake settled in to watch a movie, he heard a soft tap, tap, tap from outside. Thinking it was a late trick-or-treater, he opened the door, but no one was there.
Except for the pumpkin.
It had been moved. Just slightly, but enough for him to notice. Now, it was sitting closer to the front door. Frowning, Jake nudged it back to its original spot and went back inside.
Not five minutes later, he heard it again.
Tap, tap, tap.
From inside, something small but alive scrambled up and lunged toward himβlong, bony fingers clawing at the edge of the pumpkin, and a twisted, ghoulish face with a wide grin matching the jack-o'-lantern's own.
Before he could move, it whispered:
βTrick or treat.β