by Stephanie Scissom
Elspbeth peered through her keyhole. Four masked faces peered back.
“C’mon, old lady,” one said. “Give us some apples.”
Elspbeth loved Halloween, had gifted her candy apples to the neighborhood for fifty years now. She unlocked the door.
They pushed past her, entering her home.
“Check this out!” one of them said, grabbing an expensive figurine from its display.
Elspbeth merely smiled. Times and technology changed, but kids didn’t. These were much like Hansel and Gretel. Once you figured out what they were hungry for, it was easy.
Elspbeth was hungry, too. She’d waited on this night all year.
Stephanie Scissom hails from Tennessee, where she works nights in a tire factory and plots murder by day. She’s published in romantic suspense and horror, loves Halloween, and attends a ridiculous number of concerts. She’s currently working on an apocalyptic trilogy, when she’s not cheating on it with flash fiction.