by Nikki DeKeuster
They smashed them. All of them.
My love and devotion lay scattered across the sidewalk outside my cemetery.
One flutter of my Luna moth wings and the vandals transformed mid-stride into piles of candy corn, sprawling over the sidewalk.
Just like my darling pumpkins.
An hour later, the foul candy reverted to its original state, splattering my bucket with gore. I picked out a glob of eyeball and chewed.
Screams serenaded the neighbourhood.
The trick-or-treaters would have an awful mess to clean up and perhaps a slight bellyache.
But, that was what they got for eating candy corn.