31 Frights of October

Trick or Treachery

As the door creaked, a hush fell over the room. His sister and her friends froze, staring at him with a mix of surprise and amusement. His sister narrowed her eyes, a skeptical look settling on her face, while her friends burst into giggles, their laughter ringing like bells in the stillness.

"What's your little brother doing here?" one of them snickered, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

"And why's he dressed like some budget Dracula?" another chimed in.

"Don't be an idiot, Coraline! It's Halloween, of course he's going to be in costume at ten!" his sister shot back, though the annoyance in her voice only deepened Jeffrey's embarrassment.

Heat rushed to his cheeks as he shifted uncomfortably, the laughter stinging more than he anticipated. His sister's glare felt like a spotlight, making him shrink even smaller.

"What do you want, Jeffrey?" she barked, her tone sharp enough to cut through the banter, and her friends quieted immediately, as if awaiting their leader's next command.

Ducking slightly behind the door, he felt a wave of shame wash over him. "I was wondering if you guys would take me trick-or-treating," he managed to squeak out, his voice barely audible over the blaring music that filled the room.

"Ugh, Jeffrey, can't you see we're busy? Get Mom to take you or something," she replied dismissively, rolling her eyes.

"But Mom and Dad said they're busy too," he protested, desperation creeping into his voice.

"Well then why is it my problem? Go away!" she snapped, her words slurred slightly as if she weren't fully present.

As he glanced around the room for a way to sway her, a sudden thud struck beside him—a Bud Light, clattering against the wall before landing at his feet. He stared at it, bewildered, the dim light of the room casting shadows that danced across its surface.

"Jeffrey, just go on your own or something," she shouted again, the irritation clear in her voice.

Defeated, he stepped back into the hallway, allowing the door to close softly behind him. With a mix of frustration and a hint of vindication, he kicked the empty can to the floor outside her room like a piece of incriminating evidence, knowing full well it would likely lead to trouble for her later. The thrill of mischief flickered in his chest as he trudged back down the hall, the echoes of laughter and music fading into the background.

—

Jeffrey returned to the living room, where his mother sat in her armchair, her eyes half-closed, looking as though she might drift off at any moment. He scoffed, unimpressed by her apparent disinterest. The lively sounds of Halloween outside felt miles away, but his sister's words echoed in his mind: "Just go on your own or something."

Resolute, he slipped on his tattered running shoes, the familiar scuff of the soles bringing a spark of determination. He glanced back at his mother, who remained still, her gaze unfocused and distant. Not even a twitch.

Carefully, he creaked open the front door, the hinges protesting softly. He watched her intently, half-expecting her to notice, but she remained blissfully unaware of his intentions.

With a quick inhale, Jeffrey scampered out, making sure to keep his cloak from snagging on the doorframe. As he stepped into the crisp evening air, the world outside burst to life around him—children darting down the street, laughter ringing like music, and the enticing scent of candy wafting through the autumn breeze.

With a mix of excitement and trepidation, he began to weave his way down the sidewalk, ready to embrace the thrill of Halloween all on his own.

Jeffrey began his quest by canvassing the houses on his block, his candy bag quickly filling with chocolate bars and gummy treats. Yet, as he surveyed the meager haul, he felt an insatiable hunger for more. Across the street, he spotted a throng of children racing alongside their parents, laughter spilling into the night air. A fire ignited in his chest; he didn't need anyone guiding him—tonight, he was a lone adventurer.

Standing at the edge of the sidewalk, he prepared to cross the street, determination overshadowing the caution his mother had always preached. Forget checking both ways; this was his moment.

With a burst of adrenaline, he stepped off the curb, but suddenly, lights blared to life around him, illuminating a massive truck barreling down the street. Time seemed to freeze as panic gripped him. Just as the realization hit, he jumped back, narrowly escaping disaster.

His heart thundered in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears as he gasped for breath. The driver of the truck leapt out, concern etched on his face, calling out to Jeffrey, but he didn't stop to answer. He had a mission.

He dashed to the first house, his knuckles rapping against the door.

Silence.

He knocked again, a little harder this time.

Still nothing.

Rolling his eyes in frustration, he trudged down the street. The trick-or-treaters seemed to be thinning out, and the houses were growing quieter, as if they had all forgotten him.

Defeated, he turned to head back home, a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach. As he navigated through the dwindling crowd, he noticed a line of people gathering where he had crossed, cars halted in a standstill.

Pushing through the throng, he felt urgency prickle at his skin; he knew he had to get back before his mom realized he was gone.

Just as he stepped onto the street, a scene froze him in his tracks. A boy lay sprawled on the pavement, clad in a vampire costume eerily similar to his own, being cradled tenderly by a woman in pajamas.

He stepped closer, rubbing his eyes in disbelief, his face paint smearing across his hands. His heart sank as he recognized her—his mother, holding a child who looked exactly like him, but covered in wounds, blood pooling around him, a gruesome reminder of a car accident.

"Mom?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

She didn't move.

"What's going on?" Panic clawed at him as he grabbed her shoulders, shaking gently. But there was no response.

His gaze fell to the lifeless body before him. It was not just a vision; it was the terrifying truth. He hadn't escaped. He had been hit.

He was dead.





Written by pancakes0verwaffles