Doubtless, our stories are what drew him in.

This was the first real Halloween after our town lifted the COVID restrictions, and most

of us were taking advantage of it.

My friends and I were probably a little too old to trick a treat, but it didn't really

matter to us.

We made some last-minute costumes and we went out to join the kids, though I don't think

any of them were fooled.

We were 13, nearly ready for high school, but they filled our pillowcases.

Nonetheless, which was some kind of cowboy, Hank, a car crash victim with some red paint

and a little makeup, and I threw on a long cloak for my old sister's costume trunk

and some fake vampire teeth to make me look particularly ghoulish, and the three of us

had hit the street.

The candy was secondary anyway, and we all knew it.

Halloween fell on Friday this year, you see.

That meant we could go eat our candy at the fire pit once we were done.

And our parents probably wouldn't expect us home to late.

The fire pit was a common spot for us to go to when the weather was good.

When we were lighting a fire, telling ghost stories around it, usually roasting marshmallows

or hot dogs to go along with the tails.

It was something we looked forward to, and it wasn't something we got to do in a while.

So with our parents blessing, we put our pillowcases over our shoulders and stalked into the

woods that surrounded the cul-de-sac where we lived.

...