Ghosts Don't Trick or Treat

          Now they shuffled next to each other, trick or treating down Maple Street, and even Jake was a foot taller than the oldest kids in their Avengers and Harry Potter costumes.

          Still, Tank was an expert at getting the best candy out of folks, who shoved candy bars and lollipops and licorice twists and popcorn balls aplenty at her, just to get the gentle yellow giant to go away.

          At last, bags brimming, their stomachs full of chocolate and marshmallow and nougat and taffy, they mounted their black and green mongoose bikes and pedaled out of town.

          The bikes were gifts from the local TV station, thanking them for the highest ratings they’d ever gotten due to Jake’s parents’ ghost hunting show. Jake loved the bright green dripping letters all along the frame that spelled out the show’s name: “Paranormal Properties.”

          “Where are we going?” Jake asked, teeth cracking around another pumpkin shaped lollipop, his third of the evening.

          Tank pedaled faster, not answering his question. He caught up quickly. She had longer legs, but he had better lungs. “I said, where are we going?”

          “Oh,” she laughed nervously, struggling up the hill to the spooky old house at the top. “I heard two kids in school talking about how the lady in this house gives the BEST candy.”

         Jake followed her, noting flickering and sinister looking pumpkins lining the entire drive. But then he spotted the trick or treat bag hanging, stuffed, from his handlebars.

          “Don’t we have enough candy already?” he asked.

          “Speak for yourself.” Tank held hers up with one hand as she pedaled toward the front door. It was half empty already!!!

          The front stoop of the big, old house was lined with even more pumpkins and yards of fake -- at least, he hoped they were fake -- cobwebs around the door and hanging from the arches.

          Lights flickered inside when, suddenly, Jake remembered the house from his research for his parents’ TV show. “This is Hampton House, Tank. I’m… I’m pretty sure it’s haunted.”

         Tank waved her hand, a natural skeptic. “You and your crazy family. You know, not everything is about ghosts, Jake.”

          “Yeah, well, Halloween sure is!” he huffed.

          They stood, bickering, on the front stoop. Even through the door, Jake could hear eerie music playing inside; like an old timey organ or tinny piano. And strings; lots of eerie strings.

          Tank ruffled her feathers, found her finger and pressed the doorbell. Loud chimes rang out and, as if by magic, the door creaked open by itself. Tank stumbled back, spilling her trick or treat bag all over the floor.

          She must have been pretty scared since she left it all there! Jake peered in, leaving his bag by the door. “Uh, hello? Is anyone--”

           Before he could finish, a ghostly presence flew by his face! He stumbled back, shielding his face, something itching his nose. He looked up to find himself holding onto to Tank’s big yellow bird costume for dear life.

          “Do you mind?” she hissed, shoving him away. He stumbled into the foyer of the house, tripping on spider webs and righting himself by grabbing a long, dusty curtain. The music was louder now; eerier, too.