As I recall it, fifteen years later, It was Halloween night, me and younger brother of five years were skipping along the wet pathway grinning as we approached the next window lit door welcoming us by a happy pumpkin, glowing like a firefly.

“HAPPY HALLOWEEN” we yelled triumphantly as we see a kind young lady with a bowl of sparkling sweets.

We launched our hands into the dish. “Thanks” we would quietly mutter, distracted by the thought of the sweets or chocolate that lay newly in our buckets. The night air was always cold, making the countryside air bitter by touch. It didn’t bother us. We used to wrap up warm, ‘like a marshmallow’ our mother used to say.

It’s this particularly memory I remember so vividly for reasons I am just about to reveal. As me and my brother, Peter danced gleefully back down the path of the last house on that road, it started to rain. Mummy called to us to tell us to head back to the car so we could escape the rain and drive to the next street. Peter and I insisted we visit the last house of the road which lie a little walk away on the path. Mummy agreed so long as we met her back at the car straight after.

Peter and I crossed the road at the bottom of the hill drenched and cold, scarcely trying to protects our treasure from the rain. All of a sudden lightning struck hitting the road on the top of the hill. It shocked me and Peter as we had only ever seen lightning on tv shows. Shocked by the noise and light, Peter and I froze, huddling each other in the middle of the road. As we look to the top of the hill a most horrific vision entered our view one which haunts me, even now.

On the hill, where the lightning hit, stood a lone figure with what seemed to be an umbrella. To this day I do not know what, but something told me a Peter to get closer, be it simply curiosity or something much more powerful, I do not know. Half way up the hill, I got a closer glimpse of this… thing. Eyes, round and alert, bulged out of a chalk white face. A covered mouth seemed to whisper something to me, ushering me closer in a raspy, dry voice. The rain danced on his umbrella which was desperately grasped by gloves of green emerging a thick dead-like jacket.

“Lewis! Peter!” The sudden sound of mums soft voice broke the trance I found myself to previously be in. Me and my brother look round to see my mother calling from the window of the car. “What are you doing? ?Come on we have to go!” As my mother ushered us down the hill I looked back. He was gone. There was no one there.

“Peter…” I whispered “that man has gone”

“What man?” He muttered back.