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To be perfectly clear, Theodore Franklin Smith hadn’t chosen his own
costume that year. His mother had, and, seeing as how original both of
his parents were when it came to names, they were just as original with
costumes. Mostly, it involved a rather large sheet… with eyeholes.
Otherwise? Well, you would just have to use your own imagination
because this was all it consisted of. At first, he thought
that at least he had some white socks to go with the illusion of
ghost-i-ness, but unfortunately, his mother had washed all of the white
things along with a big red blanket-accidentally of course (so she
said, although Theodore was a bit skeptical). This meant he would have
to wear his shoes outside instead of only socks.
Though the dreaded costume was all he had to dress as for Halloween,
at least it was Halloween, and the fun would start very soon. Fawne
(most certainly with and E; Theodore had made the mistake of spelling
it without the E once, which was a blunder he wasn’t likely to make again
anytime soon,) arrived right on time, only a few moments before it was dark
-enough outside for trick-or-treating.
Blaringly opposite in character and originality, she couldn’t help
laughing at Theodore’s ridiculous costume, and he could understand why.
When he looked at her, with face paint and claws and a ragged main, she
looked exactly like a werewolf, the only difference that she was
miniscule, even smaller than Theodore, who was amongst the shortest in
their school. It was still the perfect costume, and he couldn’t help
admiring it until they left, each with a bucket clutched in his hand.
“Come on! Let’s go to the Parker’s house first! They always have
Snickers… I love Snickers.” Fawne nudged him, whispering, “Ghost
booooyyyy…. Eh, it’s not so bad… So long as you make it dramatic, of
course.” She, one wrist on her forehead, the other raised in the air
as if reaching for the moon, moaned, “Ohhh! Ghost boy! The moon is
shining brightly above me!” she swooned, “I fear I shall turn this
night and tare the limbs of the wee children of this sweet town!
Ooooh!” She laughed as they arrived at the Parkers’ house and knocked.
Opening the door, Mrs. Parker fake gasped at the sight of a ghost and a
midget werewolf at her front door, “My, my! Such dreadful creatures
haunt this night! I had better give them some candy to sate their
raving hungers!”
while Mrs. Parker was getting the candy, Fawne leaned over to Theodore
and whispered, “I told you I love this house. Wasn’t she dramatic?”
“Indeed, she nearly matched your propensity for extremism.”
Fawne, laughing, muttered “Grammar nerd,” and poked him as Mrs. Parker
returned with their candy.
After this, the two of them decided carefully on visiting the house
down the block. This house hadn’t especially decorated for Halloween,
no; however, house number 3113 was scary enough to go without
decorations, especially at night. It was clearly the perfect
“frightening house one must visit merely to creep one’s self out on
Halloween,” to put it into the words of Theodore.
Of course, they were more willing to walk to that door when they were
a block down the road, with the street lights lighting their way and a
few children dressed as witches and warlocks passing by. Approaching
house number 3113, where the street light was broken, and the wind
whistled as it blew, and nobody else was in sight, was undoubtedly
different. Walk, they did, however, and arrived, standing in the
darkness on the overgrown sidewalk, staring at the old building.
House number 3113, was polar opposite to most of the houses in this
neighborhood, such as that it was old. Many, if not all of the houses
in that particular area had been renovated or even rebuilt within the
last ten years. This house was ancient, built in the early 1900’s, and
more than one haunted story wafted about this place. Everything from
the leaning, moss-covered trees, to the great fence keeping anyone from
viewing the backyard, to the full moon right behind it pointed towards
haunted. The stories were notably specific on the resident, (or
residents if you counted the ghosts,) and, of course, were the most
horrifying.
Nonetheless, after a moment or two more, Fawne and Theodore shoved
each other and ever-so-slowly began walking towards the door, carefully
stepping over the dead, fallen branches and other paraphernalia, hardly
identifiable in the darkness. “You…. you know…, I’ve heard stories
about this place…,” Fawne murmured hesitantly.
Theodore nodded until he realized she couldn’t see the nod beneath his
sheet, and answered the affirmative, “I have too… I think everyone has…
Have you heard that one rumor about what the owner, Mr. Gunther, did to
his family?”
Fawne gulped, “You mean the one with the axe? Y-yup, I’ve heard that
one too… And the one about what he does in the backyard… with the stray
children he finds… and then… buried in his cellar?”
“Do… do you think those are all true?” They stepped onto the first
stair, creaking beneath them. They were clutching each other by now,
pretending to be cold.
“Ummm… I don’t know… Maybe some of them are mixed with truth, but most
of them are false?” Fawne whispered hopefully , her voice getting
quieter as they stepped up the second and third step onto the porch.
“Yeah…! That’s… probably what it is.”
They stood before the front door, staring at it and hoping no one
was home. Fawne swallowed, “Well… I guess we ought to knock… don’t you
think?”
“Define, ‘we’.”
“You.”
Theodore screwed his eyes shut for a moment, then cracked them open
slowly, “I thought as much.” He cleared his throat, disentangling
himself from Fawne and stepping forward. Raising his hand, he paused,
looked back at her, back to the door, swallowed once more, and knocked.
Creaking seemingly loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear,
the door swung open at Theodore’s knock. He stepped back quickly next
to Fawne again, peering fearfully into the pitch blackness beyond the
door. Fawne cleared her throat, having a hard time talking, and
murmured, “He- Hellooo?”
Nothing happened at all for a moment, and it seemed as if no one even
lived there anymore. Fawne half-laughed, “Well, no one’s home; we
really ought to-“ a ghostly breeze coming from the house blew
past, interrupting her. Two lights appeared, red orbs, like eyes,
glowing brighter and brighter, and then someone started laughing, a
deep throated, old, old laugh. The worst part was when the red eyes
started moving, and a figure stood before them with something long in
his hands. The laughing continued as Fawne screamed, shouting, "It' Mr.
Gunther with his axe here to murder us! RUN, THEODORE!" And the two of
them were ten blocks down the road before the door to house 3113 creaked closed.
It's owner, Mr. Gunther still laughing as he set down his cane and
imagined the fun he would have when the next pair of brazen
trick-or-treaters set foot upon his doorstep.
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