After a long business trip, all I wanted was to get home and enjoy Halloween night. But when I stepped onto my quiet street, I noticed something unsettling across the way. Let’s just say, Halloween had one last surprise in store.
I’ll admit, Halloween is my one true love. Some people go wild for Christmas or Easter, but for me, Halloween is pure magic. I’m 32, have no kids, and recently divorced—my job keeps me pretty busy, so I don’t have a lot of time for hobbies.
But Halloween? That’s my thing. Every year, I go all out. I’m talking graveyard scenes, life-sized skeletons, lights, fog machines, the works. I start planning in August, mapping out every little detail to make my house the spookiest one on the block.
And for years, it’s worked. The “Haunted House on Thatcher Street” (that’s my house!) has become a bit of a legend around here. Neighbors actually tell their friends to drive by on Halloween night to see it. And I love it—I feel like I’m creating something that lets people feel like kids again, just for one night.
This year, though, life threw me a curveball. Right before Halloween, my boss drops a bombshell, “We need you on a flight to Boston tomorrow.” A last-minute business trip. “Really?!” I nearly shouted. Halloween was just a week away.
But there was no getting out of it. So I took one last look at my masterpiece of a front yard; a giant spiderweb, spooky inflatables, and lights painstakingly set up to create a full-on haunted graveyard scene. Then I flew out. The plan was to be back November 1, so I figured, hey, at least the neighbors could still enjoy the setup.
But fate had other plans. After some scheduling miracle, I ended up coming home early, landing right on Halloween afternoon. I was thrilled, picturing myself handing out candy to kids in their little costumes.
When I got home, though, something was… off. My house looked bare. I mean completely bare.
Then I glanced across the street and saw it: My skeletons. My graveyard tombstones. My inflatable pumpkin. And there, right in the middle of my neighbor’s front yard, was my 8-foot spider staring back at me.
I took a deep breath, clenched my fists, and told myself to stay calm. I mean, it was Halloween night, kids were running up and down the street, and the last thing I wanted was to cause a scene. But the nerve… my decorations, all of them, right there on her lawn.
As the sun dipped lower, the orange glow of my lights flickered from her front yard, casting shadows over her house. It felt surreal—like I was seeing some kind of twisted, alternate universe.
Now and then, I peeked out the window to see the scene across the street. Her house, covered in my decorations, with kids running up to her door, their parents complimenting her on the spooky setup.
I ground my teeth and imagined myself knocking on her door right now, with parents and kids watching, just to give her a piece of my mind. But no. I needed to be smarter than that.
Finally, around midnight, the street started to quiet down. Halloween was wrapping up; decorations glowed dimmer, porch lights turned off, and parents herded kids back home.
My neighbor’s house went dark, too, and I watched as her last group of visitors left, waving and chattering on their way down the street.
This was it. It was time.
I didn’t wait till morning. There was no way I’d be able to sleep with the image of my decorations plastered all over her yard. So, I grabbed my keys, threw on my jacket, and headed straight to the all-night convenience store.
Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed overhead as I stood in front of the paint aisle, scanning the cans until I found exactly what I was looking for.
