The Phantom Trick-or-Treater The night is almost over. The candy bowls are empty, the laughter has thinned, and the wind moves through the trees like a whisper trying to remember the words. Porch lights click off one by one, and the world exhales. The smell of smoke and damp leaves lingers in the air. Somewhere, […]
The night is cold, the kind where wind rattles dead cornstalks and carries the faint smell of smoke from distant bonfires. You’re walking down a lonely road, the crunch of fallen leaves beneath your shoes. Then you see it: A figure standing by the edge of the field. Its body is tall and thin,
The wind rustles the leaves across the sidewalk as children in costumes hurry from house to house, clutching plastic pumpkins and pillowcases heavy with candy. Porch lights glow like jack-o’-lanterns, and parents watch from the end of driveways as shadows lengthen. But behind the laughter and sugar-fueled excitement, there are whispers. Whispers of poisoned
