Page 50 of Trick or Stalk

I park in the woods and follow the path to her house.

I stand in the spot where I’ve been watching her through the window.

Halloween decorations cover the porch. Pumpkins. Lanterns. Cobwebs. Little white ghosts hanging from the porch roof.

One of them is crooked. It bothers me more than it should.

“Fuck.”

I step out of the woods. The distance between the trees and her yard feels different when there's nothing hiding me.

The closer I get to the house, the larger it becomes.

The boards creak beneath my boots when I climb the porch steps.

There’s a window in the upper half of her front door. A wreath with a witch on a broom hangs from it.

I carefully peer inside, but I can’t see much of anything. It’s too dark.

I’ll see it soon enough.

The urge to get closer to her claws beneath my skin.

I flex my hands.

Not yet.

I turn toward the crooked ghost.

It hangs just above my head.

I reach up, untwist the fabric, and straighten the string so it hangs straight.

I take a step back.

That’s better.

The ghost faces the yard now. Exactly the way it should.

Presley will notice.

The thought sends something dark and satisfying through me.

Maybe she'll think the wind fixed it.

Maybe she'll convince herself she did.

Or maybe she'll know someone was here.

I should probably care that the last possibility might scare her.

But I don't.

Her fear appeals to me.

I look at the ghost one last time, then head down the steps, across her yard, and back into the woods.

I take one final look back at her house.