They stopped just before passing the car in the driveway. They looked at the house, faint light shining through the windows, no decorations. Old man Tully's house. There were stories about him, and they weren't the nice kind of stories.
Stories about kids playing near his house, their ball somehow ending up in his front yard. He'd come out, silently, pick up the ball and go back into his house. The balls never reappeared. As far as they knew, he cut them to bits. Some kids said he ate them.
He'd also, they'd been told, shouted at a kid to get out of his yard so loud the kid had peed his pants in fear. Nobody knew what had happened to him, but rumor had it his family moved away in shame.
"I don't want to go there, mom," Shelly said to her mom.
"Nonsense. He's just an old man, you know those stories are just that -- stories."
"No, mom, I heard he kicked a kid once," Davy said.
"He's never kicked anyone as far as I know. C'mon, just go up to the door."
"We don't want to."
"Nu-uh, we don't."
"You want me to come with you?"
"Yes," Shelly and Davy said immediately, at exactly the same time.
"Fine. Let's go."
They walked towards the front door, kids in front, mom slightly behind. When they turned to her, unsure whether to continue, she motioned them to just go ahead. A smile showing that it'd be fine.
"Mom, I'm not sure about this," Davy said softly.
"Look, do you want the candy or not?"
"Then you two march up to that door and do what you gotta do."
They mumled a little but turned towards the door again and continued on.
Shelly, the marginally older one of the twins, knocked on the door. After a small moment of silence, locks being undone could be heard. As the door started opening, they got ready.
"Trick or tr-," they managed before their eyes went wide and they froze in fear.
A headless man stood before them, gurgling loudly, blood coming in little spurts from his neck. He swung his arms forward and waddled towards them a step or two. Both of them went white and screamed out loud. They ran past their mom, onto the pavement, in the direction of their house. Mom could hear the screaming continue until the front door slammed shut.
She shook her head and sighed. Looking at the headless man she collected herself before she spoke.
"Bob, you really are an asshole."
The headless man pulled at his bloody neck until his face peeked out from underneath, sporting a wicked and crooked-teethed smile.
"Sarah, I honestly don't know what you mean," he said mockingly.
"You scared the crap out of my kids! Not cool, Bob. Not cool at all."
"What? I don't like kids."
"And are you going to pay for therapy for my kids?"
"They won't need therapy. See it as a life lesson. Sometimes it's good to fear something."
He laughed, Sarah shook her head.
"Or someone," he added slowly.