The little boy looked slightly over the end of the fence only to see the whitish fog embracing the small and run-down house at the very end of the hill. As he drew nearer with unsteady steps, tiny flickering lights made their appearance from time to time in a circular pattern, making the boy question the direction of the house over and over again. They were dancing, happily dancing, swirling in the cold air. They couldn’t be counted although as they approached the boy, he realized he couldn't figure out if it was really them moving, or him, staggering, an eight years old boy.
Although it was already dark and the clouds were huffing loud threats with all they had, there was not a single drop of rain to be seen. It was an ominous feeling in the air, as the boy was hesitantly approaching the house. Suddenly, the playful lights were gone, now the only visibility he had was given by the shy moonlight rays which from time to time would arise from beyond the clouds. The stillness of the surrounding nature was adding to the chilling atmosphere. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. Nothing could come out of the little boy’s chest.
A sound was heard, as he approached the house even more. Where did the rhythmical sound emerge from? At first it was just barely reaching his years, but as he kept walking forward the pulsating sound drew closer and closer and with an accelerating speed. He finally arrived at the front porch of the house. As he put forth his hand, a bell started ringing in a bloodcurdling tone. Suddenly a strong light was turned on in front of the door. Slowly the door cracked open.
Trick or treat! The boy mumbled while trying his best not to run away.