Trick or Treat… or Trap?
It was supposed to be one last house.
Just one more on a long night of candy, costumes, and chaos.
Eli and Jordan had hit every block, rung every bell, and filled their bags to the top.
But they were greedy.
“Let’s try that cul-de-sac at the bottom of the hill,” Eli said.
“I thought no one lived there,” Jordan replied.
Eli grinned. “Exactly.”
The house was huge.
Dark shutters. Rusted gate. A jack-o’-lantern with no light.
They almost turned back… until the porch light flickered on.
A single note taped to the door:
“No need to knock. Come in and claim your treat.”
They hesitated.
Then laughed.
“Probably one of those haunted house setups,” Eli said. “You know—leave candy inside, scare the kids a little.”
They stepped inside.
The door slammed shut behind them.
The house smelled of old wood and dust.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Candles flickered along the floorboards.
And at the end of the hallway…
A bowl of candy sat on a table.
Perfectly arranged.
Eli stepped forward.
Jordan held him back.
“Something’s wrong.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Eli whispered.
He grabbed a handful.
The lights went out.
A low creak echoed through the walls.
Then… a voice.
From every direction.
“One takes. One stays.”
They turned to run.
The door was gone.
Not locked—gone.
Just more wall where it used to be.
Jordan dropped his bag and ran down a hallway.
Eli followed, heart pounding.
Every door led to the same room.
The table. The bowl.
But now there was something else.
A figure.
Pale. Wearing a paper mask with a crooked smile.
It pointed at Jordan.
Then Eli.
Then back at Jordan.
“One takes. One stays.”
Jordan screamed.
Eli grabbed his arm.
“We’re leaving. Now.”
They turned and ran again.
This time, the door was there.
Slightly open.
But only one could fit through at a time.
Eli pushed Jordan forward.
Jordan slipped through.
Then turned—
Just in time to see the door vanish.
And the porch…
Empty.
No house.
Just a blank lot with overgrown weeds.
Jordan stood there, shaking.
Then looked into his candy bag.
Inside… was a mask.
Crooked smile.
And a note.
“Next year, it’s your turn.”