You choose the door at the far left of the crescent. It looks a bit shabby but there is a comforting little light on outside. It reminds you of your Uncle’s house but you know it can’t be; he lived in Scotland and died last April anyway.
The Halloween decorations outside look genuinely spooky because they look so old. You find it hard to believe that in this day and age someone wouldn’t buy new decorations every year; “capitalism people get with the programme” you mutter under your breath. You remember that your uncle was cheep too. Every birthday and Christmas you’d get two pounds taped to a card and a sarcastic “Don’t spend it all at once”.
You ring the bell and hear the bing bong sound from inside. Unexpectedly, a middle-aged looking man opens the door with enthusiastic gusto. He looks like your uncle.
No.” He says covering up his idiocy and backing into his house. You follow him. On his walls are family pictures.
“That boy looks like me.” You comment innocently. To your horror the man breaks down as he slumps onto the stairs.
“Ok! Ok! I admit it! I faked my own death for the insurance money. Don’t tell anybody, please – she’ll kill me! I’ll do anything!”
“Could you give me some sweets?”
“Sweets!? Sweets!? What the fuck do you think I’m made of money! I spent it all on fucking Halloween decorations!”
A woman comes into the hallway from the dining room. “What’s going on dear? You didn’t open the door to those freeloading children did you?”
“N-No dear.” He gulps.
The woman looks at you and screams. Sheiks with fear. She grabs your environmentally-friendly-reusable-Co-Op bag full of sweets and then shoves you out of the house.
The following day at school, your complete lack of sweets causes your peers to believe you were never out and they bully you to suicide.