By: Christopher Bice
One night a year I am released to haunt, to rage, to kill wherever and whomever I so desire but when I see the little ghosts and ghouls running amok my heart softens and I relinquish my murdering ways. Running from house to house they scream taunts to the homeowners and demand that payments be made or face the wrath of the Halloween demons in the night. They carry orange pumpkin heads hollowed out so as to carry their treats, their plunder.
I quickly remove my head and while holding my mouth open, I join in the fun screaming delightfully.