Hooted House

                It is time for the hoot to begin. Children cheered as the hoot chimed, "Hoot Hoot!" it chimed. I sneezed white cotton all over me. My stomach baked pumpkin pie, and cinnamon buns. A breath of old scented birch wood, candy corn, and pecans. Lights were out and darkness roamed around me. Stared around the neighboring friends, shining bright like diamonds, I was jealous. I order the switch to mock children inside, and ask for my acidic refreshments. One tick... two tick.. three tick.. and green lights glowed. A hollow feeling filled inside of me, I wondered, what was always in the bottom. I creaked down into the stairs. Stale, gravel, hay smell stung my rooftops. I rattle my window covers and kept going. My mouthed knocked, "Hello? Anyone home?" I go down and creaked the crack. I stared at barrels of brown hay, and a white silhouette. Another hoot, came along us, striking another hour of hooting. I never mind the silhouette, I creaked straight up again. A screech tearing my chimneys, I try to wipe off the yellow goo all over me. My logs won't move, so I forget about it. The silhouette gobbled my goods, and I scrammed out of his way. Another hoot strikes, and the silhouette screamed. His figured bent and turned. Climbed on top of my spine, reaching up to my ribs. Slivered and turned gripping tightly onto my railings, he made it to my balcony. Each step was nervous, each step was grieving. Another hoot came upon us, he took out his unsheathed black silhouette. I cringed and my planks came together, ripping each other apart. The hoot and hooting fluttered. Then the hooting stopped, my gleaming neighbors slept, green lights shattered, and collapsed in a deep sleep.