Ugh. Children. Slimy little brats that swarmed around uncontrollably. No better than the termites gnawing at my floorboards. Today was the one day of the year that every brat in town would come up to your door. It was Halloween. The last day of October was marked in bright red marker, a poor drawing of a skull, denoting the sheer awfulness of the holiday. While every foolish parent would flock to the stores for rubber spiders and candies, I would be rolling my eyes and watching TV, all alone in my little house, eating a warm bag of popcorn. Sure, it was a rather lonely life, but it was far superior to being a parent, running from your kids to your job to your stores.

Well, the day had come. The stores were bare, and the shelves were becoming restocked with Christmas gifts, almost as horrible as this sour holiday, but not quite. I was driving down Haddonfield Lane, the quiet road leading to my house. However, this night, and only this night, the usually sleepy neighborhood was infested with those dirty children. It seemed as if goblins and ghouls were running amok. Little kids in wart covered witches, screaming spirits, and pale, bloody vampire costumes were flooding the roads in massive groups. Adults sat down on their painted white porches, handing out the sweets and candies they had spent too much money on. It made me sick.

My house was nothing fancy compared to the others. It was painted a bluish color, though with every year, the hue began to become more and more faded. The yard was mostly lush and green, but there were a few ugly weeds that ruined the entire setting. The others would spread their usual gossip, but lately, all of those terrible rumors seemed to be targeted against me. The children were no better. They all though I was a witch, living in filth and loneliness. The children would ride by on their overpriced bikes and throw tomatoes or call out insults. At the morning of November the 1st, I would wake up to find my lovely home drenched in putrid eggs and wet wads of toilet paper.

Finally, my car stopped in my gravelly driveways, as the last wavering bits of sunshine left and dusk started to overcome the cloudy sky. I walked up the stairs and onto my porch, with a bag of groceries in my arm. The door wailed as it opened once I put the key in, its terrible, screeching noise ringing in my ears. However, no one else would hear the sound. The house was utterly empty. No one else had been inside for two years, not even a pet or a friend. Still, the interior was tidy, if a bit depressing. I started to arrange my milk, eggs, bread, sweets, and meats, as I looked outside the window above the sink that faced into the backyard. For a single moment, I could swear that I saw a face hidden in the bushes I had planted, its eyes unblinking and its face covered with a Halloween mask, shaped like an orange pumpkin. In a state of fear, I dropped the open milk carton in my hands. It dropped to the floor and spilt as I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Then, the face vanished in an instant.

Panicked, I rushed outside, looking wildly for anyone outside. I frantically searched throughout the bushes, worry clear in my eyes. After about a minute, I stopped. "It must have been another brat trying to be scary. To think someone would wear a pumpkin mask in somebody's garden... ha!" I muttered, though I did not believe the words coming out of my mouth. I picked up a hefty amount of paper towels, soaking up the spilt milk spread out onto my floor. As I worked away, trying to clean up the mess, I heard a ding. The doorbell rang out, as I reluctantly got up and answered it. The milk lay there, as I looked through my peephole. I expected to tell off a young trick-or-treater dressed in fancy suits or makeup, but it was actually Megan, my neighbor with an unbearably cheery outlook.

"Hello, Lizzie! I know you're in there!" she said, her smile never stopping and her voice as unbearably sugary as always. I rolled my eyes and opened the door, not even attempting to hide my obvious frustration and boredom. She smiled even more, if that was possible, at my appearance. She lived next to me, her house and life seemingly perfect. Megan had an elegant way about her, as well as her modernized house, a far cry from the traditional style of most of the houses in the neighborhood. "Hello, Megan. What do you want?" I said bluntly. "Hiya, Lizzie! I was wondering, because we're neighbors and all that, I wanted to invite you to my Halloween party! We start in about an hour, and we'll have snacks and drinks and games and all sorts of stuff! I mean, my phone service is down, of course, but we'll be fine there!" she said excitedly.

Taking a deep, solemn breath, I replied, "You keep inviting me. I say no every time, Megan. I'm not being mean or anything, just please go away," Sure, it was rude, but Megan had asked at the worst time, I needed to get back to cleaning my spill and those damn trick-or-treaters would be back this night with a wicked prank. A small hint of disappointment appeared on Megan's face, though, as always, she snapped back into an albeit less excited grin. "Sorry, Liz, I just wanted to include you. Well, I'm sure you're busy, I won't waste any more of your time," she said quietly. She closed the door and walked back to her home, as I turned around to face the milk once more. However, as I looked behind me, I saw no mess. The floor was completely clean. The paper towels were back in their spot. And I know that I saw a flash of someone rushing behind my wall, as if trying to run away from the scene. Paranoia ensued, as I looked around the corner the figure had rushed behind. But the corner was empty. The only thing in the corner was my cuckoo clock. And its larger wooden arrow pointed at the golden 7.