"Trick or treat." The childlike voice floats down the darkened street. The sidewalks are empty, costumed youngsters long since gone home. It was far too late even for trouble-seeking teens, yet the voice was there, repeating.
"Trick or treat." The singsong words pierce his ears, a cold sweat beading on his temples. The voice is familiar; he recalls that Halloween, and the news reports about her disappearance for months after. No one had ever suspected him.
He watches a shadow approach his door, a small claw-like hand raking down the window.
"Trick or treat," it demands in a hollow rasp.
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alt="To Cleave the Crone by E.M. McCormack"
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width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="They Only See Me When I Cry by Alara Rogers"
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loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Last Leprechaun by Dakria"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Sitting on Aine's Cursed Stone by Crystal N. Ramos"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>