by Mel Andela


“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.


Mel Andela

I fell in love with stories (particularly ghost stories) at a young age, and started writing as soon as I could hold a pencil. I live in a small town in Ontario, Canada, and write short fiction and poetry whenever I get the chance.

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