Feel like writing.

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“Trick or treat?” The hooded child asked.
Without a word, I shut the door.
“Bloody Halloween kids” I grumbled, sitting back on the sofa and picking up my book.
The doorbell rang again.
I sighed and dropped my novel. I really hate Halloween nights.
Bloody kids!
I yanked the door open.
The same kid.
“Told you to fucking scram didn’t I!” I shouted. He was quiet and I immediately felt guilty. I shouldn’t swear at youngins.
“What is your name?” The boy asked in a quiet voice.
My name? Against my own volition, I told him.
“Chichi”
He repeated my name, as if practising.
“Ok Chichi” he said and raised his head to look at me. At that instant, the security lights went off.
I didn’t see his face.
He pulled his hood back down and the lights flickered back on.
I suddenly felt disturbed and without another word, I shut the door and locked it.
No more answering the door.

I could not concentrate. Something I couldn’t put my finger on niggled the back of my mind like a worm.
Upset and tired for no reason, I decided it was time to sleep.
I live alone.
I don’t know why this thought came unbidden to my head as I brushed my teeth.
I lived alone.
Shaking off my disquiet, I jumped into bed and switched off the lights.
Creaks.
On a normal day, listening to the creaks of the house soothed me to sleep but not today.
Every groan sounded like an invasion. Every creak, like someone was in the house with me. The house seemed colder. I huddled under my duvet, trying to stay warm.
My rational mind forced me to stop with the foolishness and sleep.
After tossing and turning, I managed to drop off onto a troubled sleep.

Cold.
Dark.
I run.
Trick or treat?
I’ve got no bloody sweets kid!
Run!
Trick or treat?
Run!
What’s your name?
Chichi.
Chichi.
Chichi.
Trick or treat?
Colder.
Run faster.
One stinking sweet bitch!
One. Stinking. SWEET!
Cold, small hands grab my ankles and long, sharp nails dig in.
I scream.

I woke up in sweat, shivering as my body fluids dried on my skin. I groaned and stretched my hand to flick the switch on my bedside lamp.
Light.
“One stinking sweet”a voice whispered.
I turned sharply.
I saw no one.
“One stinking sweet!”
My eyes widened. It was that child’s voice!
Suddenly I felt clammy hands grab my ankles.
I screamed, trying to kick off my invisible captor. The hands multiplied on my skin, pinning my arms to my sides and holding my head steady.
I felt something cool touch my cheek.
With sharp pain came recognition…and terror.
A knife.

——————-

Knife wounds decorated her face.
He had stuck the knife inside her mouth when he got tired of stabbing at her eyes.
He walked towards her and gently removed the knife.
He checked the clock on her bed stand.
“Not too late” he whispered.
He bent close to her lacerated ear and whispered.
Suddenly, she coughed, blood spraying her night shirt.
He stepped back and watched her.
She shrunk before his eyes.
When the transformation was complete, he helped her out of the bed.
“Come” he whispered gently, giving her a hooded cloak.
“Work to be done.”
Slowly, she nodded.

————————–

Juliet grumbled as she paused the movie on her laptop.
She opened the door and frowned at the two hooded children standing outside.
“Trick or treat?” One of them whispered, a girl.
“Go somewhere else!” Juliet grumbled and tried to shut the door.
The other child stuck his leg in the way.
“What is your name?” He asked
Juliet frowned. “Juliet. So?”
The two children repeated her name and her security lights went off.

———————-

Three hours later, three children rang a doorbell.

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