The late October chill in the air blew straight through her as the evening gave way to night. There she stood on a wrap around porch beckoning with her hand for someone to approach her. She wore a long white dress with blood staining the front surrounded by cobwebs and bats and such and only a jack-o-lantern lighting the porch. A little boy, barely five, comes into view and he is wearing a cowboy costume as blood stains the front of his costume as well, the boy looks up at his mother with hopeful eyes, and speaks, “I hope we get trick-or-treaters this year.”

His mother kisses his head and smiles wistfully without a word spoken. Just then two middle school-aged girls walk by with one making her way toward the little boy and his mother’s home. Abruptly, one of the girls grabs the other by her princess dress holding the pink tule in place, the girl along with it. “Don’t go up there”, the girl continues, “that pumpkin is not a welcoming for trick-or-treaters it’s a tradition. Twenty four years ago on Halloween a mother who went crazy murdered her son and then turned the gun on herself. Someone always leaves a pumpkin there on Halloween. They say the kid had his costume on, it was his favorite time of year.”