In addition to helping his dad decorate their house and creating a costume with his mother, Kevin was already dreaming about all the candy he would get. But he couldn’t get rid of one house on his block that wasn’t adorned. He concluded that they could want assistance since he was unable to comprehend why someone would choose not to celebrate.
There was a buzz of excitement throughout the neighborhood as Halloween approached. It felt like every yard was vying to be the “spookiest on the block.”
Cottony cobwebs clung to porches, plastic skeletons hung from trees, and pumpkins with ragged smiles littered the walkways.
Eleven-year-old Kevin inhaled the scent of candies and dried leaves, his heart racing with anticipation.
Kevin liked how the entire world seemed to change for one wonderful night on Halloween, which was his favorite day of the year since it allowed him to be whatever he wanted to be.
His gaze flitted from house to house along the pavement, each one adorned with scary ghosts or brilliant jack-o’-lanterns. Kevin couldn’t resist grinning.
Even eerie sound effects, such as creaking doors or cackling witches, were playing in some of the houses.
However, something that didn’t fit attracted his attention as he continued down the street.
In stark contrast to the joyful dwellings surrounding it, one house lay vacant and gloomy. Not a single pumpkin. Not a single cobweb. Not a skeleton.
Not even a small ornament. When Kevin recognized that it was Mrs. Kimbly’s house, he scowled.
He came to a halt and gazed at the empty front porch. He had vivid memories of Mrs. Kimbly. She was an elderly woman who mostly kept to herself and lived alone.
In the past, Kevin had assisted her by shoveling snow in the winter and mowing her lawn in the summer. She simply paid him and shuffled back inside without saying anything.
Her home, however, appeared out of place today, as though it didn’t belong in the same happy neighborhood.
Sarah, Kevin’s mother, was in the kitchen cooking a pot of soup when Kevin arrived home. Kevin was hardly aware of the reassuring aroma of chicken broth.
His thoughts about Mrs. Kimbly’s gloomy, unadorned home were still racing through his head.
Kevin sat at the kitchen table and remarked, “Mom, something strange happened.” Sarah turned to face him while using a towel to wipe her hands.
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