Every Halloween, the children on our street avoided the old house at the end of the block.
It was a narrow, two-storey home with peeling white paint, dead vines crawling up its walls, and a porch light that flickered even when nobody was home. The neighbours said it had been abandoned for nearly twenty years.
But every October 31st, someone decorated it.
There were carved pumpkins along the walkway, orange lights around the windows, and a bowl of candy sitting beside the front door.
Nobody ever saw who put them there.
When I was twelve, my friends and I decided to investigate. We figured someone was playing a prank, and we wanted to know who.
At exactly 8:30 p.m., we walked up the driveway.
The front door was slightly open.
Inside, the hallway smelled of wet leaves and something rotten. A small table stood against the wall, holding a bowl filled with hundreds of miniature chocolate bars.
There was also a handwritten sign.
TAKE ONE. LEAVE ONE.
My friend Daniel laughed and dropped a chocolate bar into the bowl. Then he took one.
From somewhere upstairs, a floorboard creaked.
"Hello?" I called.
A child's voice answered.
"You're late."
We froze.
Then a little boy appeared at the top of the staircase. He wore an old-fashioned Halloween costume: a black cape, white shirt, and a smiling pumpkin mask.
"Are you giving out candy?" Daniel asked.
The boy nodded.
"Only to children who come inside."
We should have left.
Instead, Daniel stepped forward.
The boy tilted his head.
"Where are your other friends?"
Daniel turned around.
We were standing in the hallway, but there were only two of us.
Our friend Marcus had disappeared.
We ran outside screaming and called the police. They searched the house but found nothing. No boy. No candy. No decorations.
Daniel was never quite the same after that night.
Thirty years have passed. I moved away, got married, and eventually stopped thinking about the old house.
Until tonight.
I was walking home when I noticed a familiar sight.
The old house was still standing.
Its porch light was flickering.
There were pumpkins along the walkway.
And beside the front door sat a bowl of candy.
I stopped when I saw the handwritten sign.
TAKE ONE. LEAVE ONE.
Something about it made my stomach tighten.
Then I noticed a second sign hanging in the window.
It read:
WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.
The front door slowly opened.
A little boy stepped onto the porch wearing a black cape and a smiling pumpkin mask.
He looked exactly as he had thirty years ago.
Behind him, I heard another voice.
"Come on," it whispered. "We've saved your place."
Then the boy removed his mask.
It was Marcus.
He hadn't aged a single day.
He smiled at me.
"You're late," he said.
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