The whole town had been buzzing about Halloween since I moved here. Kids running up and down the streets in costumes, porches glowing with carved pumpkins, bowls of candy spilling everywhere—it was the kind of small-town charm I’d only ever seen in movies. But I’d noticed something odd tonight, something no one else seemed to question.
Every house on Maple Lane had a crowd of kids at the door—except one. The house at the very end.
It sat back from the street, shutters crooked, the porch dark. Not a single pumpkin, not a single decoration. And yet, something about it pulled me in. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the fact that I was the “new girl” in town, dressed as a bunny in fishnets and satin ears, wanting to prove I wasn’t scared like the rest of them.
So while the other kids sk
