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Adelaide B. Shaw

Untitled

Darkness. A soft rustling in the trees. Wood smoke carried by the wind. The scurrying chase of dried leaves.

A door slams. A shout, followed by another. Footsteps starting slowly, then moving faster. More shouts and a stream of light across the cold sidewalk. Gone in a minute. The footsteps continue, getting louder and more frenzied. Running now. Squeals and screams. Another flash of light. Pounding feet coming from all directions.

a chilly dampness
seeping into the bags and bones
of Trick or Treaters

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