Sherry sits on her couch in silence. The sound of people laughing and shouting outside makes her turn toward the front door. She feels a momentary sensation of excitement, and her grip on the full bowl of candy tightens. The sound from the people outside is loud, and high pitched; and it passes by her house as quickly as it comes. Sherry deflates. Her excitement melts into disappointment. 

A rogue tree branch is smacking against the thin window by the front door. The soft, yellow light from the porch is seeping into the house from underneath the front door and the window beside it. From her spot next to a larger, slightly ajar window, Sherry can hear the rustling of dead leaves blowing in the wind. The smell of crisp, late fall wafts into the living room with every blow of cold wind.

Although the scent is comforting, Sherry cannot help but feel her disappointment festering. She's been sitting on her couch for the past two hours. Scrolling through social media and playing mobile games is only fun for so long. The first hour went by quickly, thankfully. But, that couldn't be said about the time after that. 

The ticking of the clock by the television has become monotonous. The old school, black and white film has shifted from interesting to simple background noise. Sherry's phone is still in her hand, but the screen has long gone black. A few wrappers crinkle beside her as she shifts in her spot; her eaten sweets being the only ones taken from the bowl this evening.

The fleeting thought of turning in for the night is disrupted by the high pitched sound of the doorbell. The familiar tune is loud against the stillness of the quiet house. Sherry looks at the front door. She doesn't move for a moment. She looks through the window beside it to see who is on the porch. She doesn't see anyone. Confused, Sherry rises to her feet with the bowl of candy still in hand; her phone discarded on the plush couch cushion. The woman cannot help but wonder if someone from next door has come over. From the sounds of screaming, laughing, and music, Sherry can deduce that there's a party going on. Although it's not late, it wouldn't be surprising if someone called the police for noise disturbances. The cops had stopped by earlier in the night; maybe one of the occupants next door were coming to ask if she were the one who called. That, or maybe there's finally a trick or treater who has decided to give Sherry's small house a chance. The thought makes the woman smile. 

With glee, she races to the front door. The candy in the large bowl shifts with her movements, wrappers sliding against the smooth plastic texture. She places her hand onto the cold door knob and pulls the door open. Sherry cannot help but let out a short scream at the sight in front of her. There is indeed a trick or treater on her door step. It's a shorter child with a large pumpkin on top of their head. The pumpkin has the design of two circular eyes, and a jagged grin etched into the front of it. Blood is seeping from the mouth of the pumpkin, and along the bottom edges of it where the child's neck is. They are also wearing a black long sleeve shirt with dark brown overalls and matching shoes. One hand is holding an empty pillow case. The other appears dirty, as if the child were playing in some grass or mud before getting to the house.

"Wow, you spooked me, kid!" Sherry laughs, leaning against the door frame, "Your costume's great!"

"Thanks." the child-- Pumpkin Head as Sherry has decided to call them-- responds, "I made it myself. No one else seems to like it though. This is the first house where someone actually opened the door."

"Oh? That's too bad." 

Sherry sympathizes with the kid. She's been feeling disappointed because no one came to get candy from her house, as if people were purposely ignoring it; she can't imagine the disappointment Pumpkin Head must be feeling at being ignored while trick or treating. She's not sure if it's because of their costume, or if people just didn't want to give them candy. Either way, she feels bad for the kid. The older woman looks down to the bowl of candy in her hands. A sudden idea strikes her. It brings a smile to her face.

"Listen, kid, how about I make you a deal?" Sherry shakes the bowl of candy in her hands, "You're going to get candy either way. But how 'bout a wager? If you're able to give me a good scare, I'll give you everything in this entire bowl."

Pumpkin Head tilts their head to the side, "The whole thing?"

"The whole thing."

"And all I have to do is scare you?"

"If you think you can." Sherry teases.

Pumpkin Head lets out a short laugh. They set down the thin pillowcase beside them, and shake their hands out by their sides. It's like the kid is getting ready to do something crazy, or is just hyping themselves up. Either way, Sherry watches patiently with a smile. 

The smile on her face immediately falters when Pumpkin Head reaches for the jack-o-lantern on their head. More blood gushes around their neck and the pumpkin's mouth. With a light tug and jerk to the side, a sharp snap resonates from the pumpkin. The kid lifts the pumpkin off of their shoulders with ease.

Sherry almost screams again; this time in genuine fear. 

Pumpkin Head is holding the jack-o-lantern in the air with steady hands. The bottom of the pumpkin is bleeding. Instead of seeing the face of a young child, Sherry is met with the bloody stump of a neck with no head . Although stained, there is no real gore inside of the open wound. Instead, Sherry gasps at the sight of bloody, dirty wheat straw.

Sherry is frozen in her spot. Her grip on the bowl of candy loosens. The only reason she doesn't drop it is because Pumpkin Head laughs. The sound brings the woman out of her swarming thoughts.

"How..?"

"Seems like I scared ya." Pumpkin Head chuckles, "So, can I have my candy?"