When the Dark Came Knocking

She used to love Halloween — the rustle of costumes, the bite of candy on her tongue, the thrill of staying out past dark. But this year, something had changed. The shadows felt too deep, the masks too real.

Standing alone on the porch, a princess crown slipping sideways in her hair, she clutched her candy pail like a shield. Her eyes darted to the sidewalk where figures flickered under dim streetlamps — a wolf with teeth too sharp, a scarecrow that didn’t blink. Every laugh sounded like a threat. Every knock at the door echoed in her chest.