Margie had been asked to write a spooky story by her magazine. Now spooky and scary stuff are not her forte. She tried to negotiate with her boss, but Bob would not relent. For the past half an hour she had been googling through the history of Halloween and other cross-cultural spooky rituals and celebrations for some ideas. It was the evening of the Halloween and what a better setting for a spooky story, Margie smiled to herself. She had bought a packet of candies on her way home for those tail less monkeys of her neighbourhood who would be descending on her yard for trick or treat. She was already petrified of their tricks round the year; she would rather pacify them with candies. Margie remembered her mother. She would make candies and bake cookies and muffins for all the kids of the neighbourhood. Margie is unlike her mom. She never liked kids anyway.
Margie was somewhat into the middle of her write up when the onslaughts of calling bells began. However disturbed she might be, she was bemused at the sight that greeted her. Even before they could give her the choice, Margie gushed out “treat” and rushed indoors to get the candies. Strange! There was no trace of any candy in the house. She clearly remembered having kept the packet on the table. She nearly ransacked the house in desperation but it was a futile effort. A flabbergasted Margie finally handed the kids some cookies that she was lucky enough to find. All of a sudden the power went off. Maybe the MCB had tripped. Margie went to check. Wait, what was that glowing on her table? It was a jack-o-lantern placed right on the centre of the table. But where did it come from? She never made or bought one. As she inched closer she found it grinning ear to ear and the empty wrappers of the candies scattered in front. A chill ran down her spine. But she had found her story. Margie’s fingers soon got busy with the keyboard.