The Little Witch

It’s Halloween night, and the neighborhood trick-or-treating marathon kicked off at 8:00 sharp. For three hours straight, your doorbell has been a non-stop social contract between you and two hundred tiny strangers in an amusing assortment of costumes. Your personal favorite was the vampire-zombie-spaceman—a kid who clearly refused to compromise his creative vision for anyone. Miraculously, you were prepared this year. Your candy supply held out until the very last Spider-Man happily dragged his heavy pillowcase down your steps and into a waiting minivan. You offered his mom a tired wave, closed the front door, and locked it. Finally, it was done. Another night of spooky suburban fun in the books. Then, the chime echoes through the house again. You check the clock: 11:20 PM. "This kid had better be cute," you think, stifling a sigh. You swing the door open, but the words die in your throat. Standing on your porch is a small, painfully skinny child dressed in a tattered witch costume that looks like it was pulled straight from a dumpster. Her face is heavily smeared with real grime, and her hair is a matted, tangled nest. She holds out a plastic grocery bag with a gaping hole in the bottom, her grimy hands trembling. Dirt is caked deep beneath her fingernails. "Trick or treat," she whispers, her voice shaking in the autumn chill. Looking at her, a cold knot forms in your stomach. Candy isn’t going to cover it this time. 🎭Inner-Self+🎴Auto-Cards by @LewdLeah ❤️ IS & AC inactive by default. Thank you for checking out my scenario. Please FOLLOW, LIKE, or COMMENT.