Tate or Treat

"Trick or treat?" asked three innocent children, dressed in the most adorable "monster" costumes possible, stood unknowingly on the doorstep of the Murder House, where real monsters resided. Well, not monsters per se, but, indeed, ghosts that inhabited the gothic manor.

Vivien Harmon flashed the kids a smile, holding out a plastic pumpkin, filled to the brim with diabetes-inducing candy. Each of the children took their desired piece of candy before thanking the lady at the door, and leaving on their quest to get as many sweet treats as they could. Vivien grinned lightly, nostalgia washing over her body. She remembered when Violet was that young: she still was young. However, now she was unable to grow any older, she was an eternal youth.

Silently shaking the saddening thoughts from her skull, she glanced over the lawn. Chad sure had done a great job of getting ready for the occasion. Pumpkins were scattered neatly along the pathway, glowing eerily, each one with a unique and precise pattern carved into them; there were skeletons, bats and spiders hanging from every possible corner of the premises. It looked like a dump site for old horror movie props, but it was undoubtedly the best looking house on the entire block. 'Ghosts do it better.' Vivien thought to herself, almost chuckling aloud, before closing the door.

"Hey, mom. Do I look okay?" Violet Harmon bounded down the never-ending staircase, and stopped in front of her mother, showcasing a black, lacy dress, that fit Violet perfectly, clinging to her figure in exactly the right places; her short and slender legs had black, knee length socks covering them and black heels on her miniature feet, the straps wrapping around her ankles like ivy.

"Okay? You look amazing, honey!" Vivien replied with astonishment. Internally, she was so proud to have raised such a beautiful daughter, but she would never admit that to Violet: she knew how much she hated that whole loving and caring parental crap.

Before Vivien had time to say anything else, a hand snaked around Violet's waist. It was Tate. A skull painted beautifully onto his face; his, usually wild, blonde curls were slicked back and tamed by what seemed like a tonne of hair gel; he was sporting black skinny jeans and an equally as black trench coat. He and Violet looked like the most perfect couple. They just fit together so perfectly, a jigsaw puzzle that nobody else could seem to solve.

"Ready?" Tate's low, yet soothing voice questioned his girlfriend, as he smiled lovingly down at her.

"Of course, I can't wait to get out of this hell hole." Violet replied with a wink. Honestly, Violet loved this house and all of it's spirits, but she was trapped here infinitely, and, when she had one night to roam the streets like a normal, live, person, she was in no position to refuse an offer to escape - even if only for a matter of hours: she needed some dose of reality, to make her remember what it felt like to be alive.

"Alright, well be safe." Vivien urged her forever teen-aged daughter.

"Mom, don't worry, we're dead." Violet informed her mother, placing a hand on her shoulder mockingly. Vivien laughed aloud at her momentary stupidity, before ushering the lovers out of the Murder House.

Violet stood at the end of her driveway, clenching one hand onto the gate, and the other holding Tate's hand. She inhaled a deep, icy breath and stepped off of her lawn. Freedom. A huge grin slivered onto Violet's face as she left the ghostly property for the first time in a year. "So, where are we going?" Violet interrogated Tate, not wanting to be disappointed on her only night of liberation.

"That, my lovely, is a surprise." Tate smirked at her, planting an elegant kiss onto her cold lips. Before she could object, Violet had a dark piece of fabric cloaked around her eyes.