I was the new kid in town. My dads and I had just moved and I didn't have any friends yet. It was Halloween night and I was hanging around and waiting for night to fall. I was watching people go by.

A group of children and teenagers passed by me. One of them, the tallest, stopped and looked at me from head to toe. He must have been at least fifteen and I was nine. I felt very uncomfortable.

"Where d'you come from?" he asked me.

"I live there," I replied, pointing to my house. "My name is..."

"I'm the boss here," he said. "They call me the king! Want to see something cool?"

"Um..."

"Meet us here at 6:00 p.m.!"

The other children started laughing.

"We'll have so much fun!"

"We'll throw eggs at Mr. Rotten's house! See? The ugly house at the end of the street!"

"Why?" I asked shyly.

"He never gives us candy!"

"And he's ugly! We throw flour at him too! It's so funny!"

"And no one ever punishes us!"

"But he deserves it! He's a prick!"

"So, you come with us?"

I thought about it for a moment, then I said yes and they left, laughing. I came home thinking about what was going to happen. Throwing eggs at his house? I could do much better. I grabbed some eggs, water, flour and prepared my secret weapon which I wrapped in white paper. I knew I was going to do terrific. Then I joined the other kids. They were already throwing toilet paper onto that man's trees and eggs at his windows.

"What did you bring?" the tall kid asked.

"My super bomb. I'd like to give it to him myself."

"Wow, aren't you brave, kid? Go ahead, show us what you can do!"

The others laughed and hid in the bushes and I rang the doorbell. Nothing happened. I rang the bell several times and suddenly, an old man opened the door and glared at me.

"I won't give you candy!" he shouted.

"It's OK. I just have a gift for you."

"What ?!"

"My name is Nat and I just moved in. I don't have any friends yet so I'm giving this to you. It's my grandmother's apple-cinnamon pie. She calls it the super bomb because every bite is an explosion of flavor."

"What?!"

He was staring at me with wide eyes and I felt really awkward.

"You don't like apples, sir?"

"I do..."

"So, you're allergic? Or vegan?"

'No ! I... you're nice. THANKS."

He looked on the verge of tears. He took the pie and closed the door. I turned around, the other children came out of the bushes and the tall boy applauded me.

"Well done, newbie! What did you put in that pie? Stones? Shit?"

"No, just good ingredients: apples, butter..."

"What's the point?!"

"Everyone should have something good to eat on Halloween!"

I really meant it. My fathers always told me to be nice to my elderly neighbors and I felt sorry for this man. I wanted to cheer him up with this cake. I didn't think it would be a problem.

"What's wrong with you?!!"

"Well, I..."

Suddenly he slapped me so hard that I fell to the ground!

"You filthy bitch!" he yelled. "Halloween is about adults giving cool stuff to kids, not the other way around! How dare you ruin Halloween? I should be the one eating this pie! Give that bitch what she deserves!"

I started to cry. I was terrified. The children all came closer to me. One of them held up an egg, then another did, too. I made myself very small. And suddenly, the bad boy doubled over and started vomiting. I could be wrong but I think there were some weird things moving in his vomit. No one dared to move anymore. And then someone shouted:

"Run, Natasha!"

The elderly gentleman was waving me off from his door. I ran away, I felt an egg crash into my hair and I didn't turn around. I came home in tears and told my fathers everything. They consoled me, washed my hair and we spent the night watching old episodes of "Are you afraid of the dark?". Our shutters were closed and we could hear eggs crashing against them. My dads promised me that the next day, they would go talk to those kids' parents.

*

The next day, my dad George, who is a plumber, was called urgently by four or five different people! I went to play in the garden with my dad Michael. To our great surprise, our shutters were perfectly clean. And then an old gentleman came to say hello and I recognized him at once:

"Good morning, my name is Peter Rowan, I am your neighbor. I live at the end of the street. I already met your little Natasha yesterday. You truly have a remarkable child: she gave me a delicious apple pie! However, this pie is way too big for one person. I would like to have dinner at my place tonight so that we can eat it together."

Then I remembered something: the day before, he had called me by my first name even though I had introduced myself as Nat, which can also be shorter for, let's say, Natalie or Natalya. How did he know my name's Natasha? It was weird.

So we spent the night at his place. Everything was both weird yet nice-looking in his house. He had shelves full of artefacts from all over the world. The meal was delicious, everyone complimented me on my super bomb and then the adults chatted on the couch while I played with the black cat, Hades. Mr. Rowan told us about his travels around the world. He had seen so many things!

"I spent a lot of time with witches in Europe, Africa and Asia," he said.

"Do they celebrate Halloween?" I asked.

"Of course! On that night, we can be visited by spirits from beyond, which requires the greatest calm and respect. Most sorcerers I've met would be horrified to see children throwing eggs at houses or damaging gardens. That's an insult to the holy meaning of Halloween!"

"Can you really communicate with spirits?!"

"Nat, he's pulling your leg!" my dad George said.

"By the way," my dad Michael said, "you should really file a complaint against those kids. They have no right to harass you like they did."

"Thank you but I don't need to do that. See, I put a spell on my house. Every time a child throws something edible at my walls, it ends up in their stomach at the stroke of midnight. They all started vomiting in the middle of the night."

"What about inedible things like toilet paper?" I asked.

"Well, they go block their toilets!"

My fathers burst out laughing but I knew Mr. Rowan wasn't joking. My dad George had repaired many toilets earlier that day, it couldn't be a coincidence. My friendly neighbor was a sorcerer.

*

Years passed, I stayed in that town until I left for college and Mr. Rowan became like a member of our family. I would spend time at his home whenever my parents needed a babysitter. Every Halloween, I brought him a super bomb and we ate it together. He taught me magic, too. Now I can hex bad kids who vandalize other people's houses or attack smaller children. If you ever think about throwing an egg at a house, think again. You might stumble into me...