Halloween Stories

In the woods. At night. Sneaking around and running. And … screaming, of course.

They heard her scream, then she fell backwards and lay there, motionless. Covered in blood. A blood-covered trowel rolled to the floor beside her.

A fairly narrow, high-peaked 3-story wood-frame house, dark brown shingles with peeling black trim. Who does black trim?

“Can’t be a trick-or-treater, can it?”, whispered Samantha. They knew it wasn’t. It sounded more like the beast that was at the back door.