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|TRICK OR TREAT (standard:Ghost stories, 1248 words)
|Author: Tisha Rogers
|Added: Oct 24 2007
|Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
|An old woman knows the truth about the haunted house and what really happened that night twenty years ago.
Rumor has it that the old house on the hill is haunted. It certainly looks haunted. What shutters are left hang crooked on the windows, the glass is gone except for a few panes, shattered long ago by rocks thrown from a well-placed throw. The house has lost its paint; here and there you can still see it had once been white, peeling now of course. Leaning against the doorframe is the door, as the hinges gave way some years back. One side of the house is covered in some kind of dead vines that reach near the top of the roof. The roof itself is showing signs of disrepair; shingles gone and actual holes can be seen from a distance. To top it off there grows a huge weeping willow tree in the front. Its limbs bending down to touch the ground look like arms reaching out to pull you inside the eerie house. Add to that the overgrown yard, the broken down picket fence that separates the yard from the road, town gossip and you have yourself a haunted house. In my thirteen years of life I have heard several stories about the old house. My favorite one being told by an old lady that lives a couple of houses down from me. Her name is Ms. Johnson. Her version is best because she was eyewitness to the fact. With a little coaxing she would tell the story as though it happened yesterday not nearly twenty years in the past. With Halloween being less than a week away, I strolled up there to hear it retold once again. True to form, with a little coaxing we sit on the porch, her rocking in her chair and me on the steps. With a cup of hot cider in our hands and freshly baked, straight from the oven oatmeal-raisin cookies she started her story. “Well,” she says, “The date isn't hard to remember because it was Halloween night. The night ghosts and goblins, witches and vampires roam the streets looking for sweet treats. The couple I worked for, Mr. and Mrs. Robins didn't like this night and refused to participate in it. Year after year they refused to give the children treats when they knocked on the door, which resulted in all kinds of tricks being played on them. The children would throw toilet paper into the air; the paper would come unwound as it fell, covering the tree branches before hitting the ground. Sometimes there would be wet toilet paper stuck to the sides of the house, which would have to be scrape off. They would take bags of flour and pour it on the ground warning other trick or treaters that it was a marked house–do a trick because you wouldn't be getting a treat. The following day the yard would be such a mess as each group of treaters had their own form of tricks. On this particular Halloween night I was answering the door to tell the youngsters that we had no treats. The Robins thought that by not turning the porch light on the children would not come, but it seldom work that way. Oh, how I wished I had treats for the little ones they were so darling dressed in their costumes. They were dressed as princesses, pumpkins, pirates, skeletons and ghosts. Some had on costumes of cartoon characters or action heroes. But all were turned away without a treat from the Robins' home. After a couple of hours the children ceased coming to the door, the house was so quite that Mr. and Mrs. Robins dozed in their chairs in front of the fireplace. One hardy little knock brought Mrs. Robins out of her chair, “I'll get it.” She says, hobbling to the door with her cane, I not far behind. When she opened the door there stood a small witch, even with her pointed black hat she couldn't have been over three feet tall. “Treat or trick?” the little witch asked. “I have no treats you ugly little child,” Mrs. Robins says raising her voice, “Now be gone with you before I hit you with my cane.” Striking the door with it. The little witch took a step back and said, “If you have no treat for me to eat, then I shall haunt your house morning, noon and night. I will move your things so you can't find them. I will hide under your bed and grab your ankle when you pass. I will hid in you closet and cupboards and jump on you when you open them. You are a mean and selfish person; year after year the children have given you a chance at kindness now most of the children are frightened of you. Now you will be frighten right here in your own house.” Mrs. Robins began shouting, “Then get on with your haunting you ugly little creature and leave me alone. Off with you I say.” again striking the door with her cane, “And don't come back next year either!” That very night strange things started to occur. First, all the lights would flicker, go out then come back on. The curtains moved like a Click here to read the rest of this story (34 more lines)
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