Fiction Helloween ODE


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She paced nervously counting her steps, and at 100, she moved the curtains and looked out. He should have been here. Wonder what delayed him. The lady rushed to open the door as the footsteps approached.

“Trick or Treat” chorused the children in unison dressed as satan, Dracula, skeletons and a pumpkin. They carried hollow skulls to collect their treats. 

“Trick,” she said and laughed wheezily as the children entertained her with tricks. The old lady handed them candies and closed the door.

The nervous pacing continued.

As the doorbell buzzed, she hurriedly opened the door. The man was taken aback on seeing her appearance. The lady with a charming smile answered, “It is Halloween, thought I would dress up as well.” 

“Err, I saw your advertisement for the room in the attic and had called earlier. Is it still available?”

“Yes. This way, please.”

He followed her up the stairs that creaked under her weight. A strong stench assailed his nostrils. He controlled his urge to retch. And before he could compose himself, the old lady took a gleaming scalpel and swung at him, slashing his throat in a single precise cut. Blood squirted and patterned all over the wall and the bed. The lady moved agilely, avoiding the blood. As he collapsed, his eyes fell on the source of the stench — a young lad with a slashed throat.

The lady wiped the knife and hung it behind the door. Her eyes glinted with satisfaction. She pulled his body and heaped it with the rest that were in various stages of decomposition. She tucked the yellowed newspaper clipping back into her diary. “Young surgeon gang-raped and killed.”

She climbed down the stairs, gently tiptoed on the creaky step.

And the bell buzzed again.

Blurring the lines
Tomorrow is another day


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