The Last Trick-or-Treater
It was almost midnight on Halloween when Nora heard the knock.
Three soft raps. Tap, tap, tap.
She frowned — she’d turned off her porch light hours ago. The candy bowl was empty, and the streets were silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Still, she opened the door.
A little boy stood there. He wore an old-fashioned clown costume — faded ruffles, cracked white paint on his mask, and a paper bag clutched tightly in one hand. His voice was muffled, but polite.
“Trick or treat.”
Nora smiled nervously. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie. I don’t have any candy left.”
The boy tilted his head.
“That’s okay,” he said softly. “You gave me some… last year.”
Nora’s smile faltered.
She didn’t remember him.
“I… did?” she asked.
He nodded. “You gave me caramel apples. They were my favorite.”
A cold shiver crept up her neck. The year before, there had been caramel apples — and one had gone missing from her porch before she could hand it out. The next morning, she’d heard about the car crash. A boy in a clown costume… hit while trick-or-treating.
Nora looked down. The boy’s shoes were soaked — not with rain, but dark, muddy water.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I just wanted to say… goodbye.”
Then he turned, walked down the steps, and disappeared into the fog.
When Nora blinked, the street was empty again. But on the porch, where he’d stood, was a caramel apple — perfectly wrapped, glistening in the moonlight.
She never opened it.
And every Halloween since, just before midnight, she’s heard the same soft knock.
Tap, tap, tap.
stake: earnfree