“Hey Fi, look at all the candy we’ve got!” My younger cousin held his pillow case filled with treats up and smiled proudly.

“I know, we’re doing pretty well this year, huh?” I replied. Halloween was always my favorite time of year – bright red leaves littering the streets, bonfires, and ‘scary’ stories shared between friends and family, but most of all, trick-or-treating. Stuffing your face with Hershey’s chocolate and candy corn feels even more satisfying than usual when you've walked through countless neighborhoods in hot, stuffy costumes to get it.

Before I left the house, my parents told me I would have to take my 9-year-old cousin Brandon with me. They expected me to react poorly when they told me so, but I really couldn't have been happier to hear that I had the opportunity to train Bran in the art of trick-or-treating. Before we left, I taught him a few essential rules. One: no walking. Trick-or-treating is more like a sport – you have to sprint to the next house with lights on to get the better candy, or the kids in front of you will grab all the good stuff before you can say “happy Halloween.” Two: always be cute. For a fifteen-and-a-half-year-old like me, this rule is stressed the most since most adults probably don’t want to hand out candy to teenagers. For the past few years, I’ve had to wear looser shirts or a jacket over my outfit and avoid shoes that made me look taller, and aim for a more endearing look. (This year in particular I’d chosen my Fionna the Human – from the positively hilarious cartoon, Adventure Time – costume, which consisted of a white bunny-eared hat, a plush green backpack, a bright blue shirt, a pink jacket, and skinny jeans.) Brandon, on the other hand, picked out a mask from some horror movie and a black cloak, which just made him even cuter than usual. You see, a tiny killer ghost no taller than 42” couldn’t possibly be considered anything but adorable.

We made our way down the cracked sidewalk, occasionally going out of our way to hear the crunch of a fallen leaf beneath us. After realizing how long it’d been since we’d last picked up candy, I looked up for the first time in several minutes and was somewhat surprised at the scene before me: the neighborhood we had walked into seemed much older and darker than the ones we had been trick-or-treating in previously, possibly because of the crummy-looking walls and unkempt lawns. The houses were much more spaced out; the one we were currently walking by was the largest and creepiest on the street. I wondered how we’d wound up here, since I knew these neighborhoods like the back of my hand.

After looking around for a moment, I nudged my cousin gently to get his attention. “Hey Bran, do you know where we are?” When I only got a shrug in response, I started going over my options: we could head back the way we came, or we could continue trick-or-treating here and have my mom come find us and pick us up later. I chose the latter option when I realized how much candy the people here might still have since no one else seemed to be collecting candy here.

I led my cousin up to the cobwebbed, broken-windowed brick house and stepped up to the black wooden door. There weren’t any lights on, and there weren’t any decorations that I could see, but I figured there was no harm in trying. I knocked on the door but drew my hand back in surprise when the door pushed open a few inches before I could touch it. My cousin and I watched expectantly for someone to appear from behind it, but after a moment we realized no one was there to have opened the door.

Brandon gulped audibly. “Did you just…?” He looked up at me with wide eyes, too shocked to finish his sentence.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “It was probably just the wind.” I was honestly just as scared as he was, but the last thing a big sister (or older cousin) should do is let the little ones see that you’re no better off than they are, otherwise they’ll panic. “C’mon, let’s just see if they left some candy in the foyer or something.” I pushed the door open a little further and flinched at the rather cliché creaking sound it made. I took a deep breath and stepped in, feeling my heart rate steadily increasing with each passing second.

Brandon followed close behind, deciding he’d rather be in the house with me than outside by himself. As soon as the two of us were in the foyer, the front door slammed behind us. I couldn’t help but let out a startled squeak at the sound.

“What was that?!” My cousin reached out and tugged my sleeve desperately. I could almost hear him shaking in fear.

“Er, that was me, sorry,” I told him, wishing I could believe it. “Don’t worry, I’ve got my flashlight.” I reached behind me and dug around for my flashlight in my backpack. I felt something brush against my leg and I had to do everything in my power not to scream. I whipped out the flashlight and flipped the switch. As soon as it illuminated the space around us, I wished I hadn’t had such the bright idea of taking it out. The scene before us was incredibly macabre (and maybe a tad familiar?) – a dust-coated table displayed several ugly little voodoo dolls, some with pins stuck through them. An old-fashioned record player sat beside it, playing an eerie tune ever so softly. Peeling floral wallpaper and cobwebs decorated the walls behind it. A soft meow from beside us brought my attention to what was most likely the reason behind my little scare a moment ago: a silky black cat with sparkling blue eyes was making its way over to us. It meowed again, perking its ears and swishing its tail expectantly. I shuddered. Just what we needed – more bad luck.

“C-can we please leave, Fi?” Brandon whispered hoarsely. I shook my head. We’d made it this far, there was no way I was leaving without my sweet sugar-filled prize.

“Shh, it’s fine. Just think of the king-sized candy bars this guy’s probably got for us!” I forced a smile and grabbed his hand. Before he could object, I dragged him into the next room, my eyes darting around in search for the candy. Instead I came face to face with a horrifying man with clown paint on his face and blood oozing from his mouth and eyes. This time, I didn’t even try to hold back. I let it all out. I screeched a blood-curdling screech in sheer horror – the kind you hear in those old, super cheesy scary movies – loudly enough for it to be heard in a three mile radius. Brandon joined in with me after a moment, and the man stumbled backwards in surprise (how ironic).

“Whoa, whoa, don’t blow my eardrums out! Sheesh!” came a muffled voice from behind what I now realized was just a mask over the man’s face. I nearly passed out in relief.

“Don’t scare us like that, you jerk! What were you thinking?!” I huffed, still shaken up from the whole experience.

“Well, what were you doing in my house?” he asked, lifting the mask off his face. He had a point.

Bran answered before I could. “We just wanted candy… And now instead I have wet pants,” he said breathlessly. The three of us couldn’t help but snicker at the childish joke.

“Alright, I think you guys earned it.” My heart skipped a beat. This was the moment I’d – I mean we’d – been waiting for since I laid eyes on this godforsaken house. We waited while he went to the kitchen to get the stash, and as I waited, I dreamt of the possibilities: Symphony bars, a handful of Tootsie Pops, maybe even a whole bag of unopened mini Milky Way bars! My mouth started watering just thinking about it.

When he came back, my heart skipped a beat again. This time, it was out of disbelief and absolute horror rather than extreme happiness. In his hand, he held two miniature boxes of Sundried raisins, a High School Musical pencil, and two small boxes of that awful chalk candy that everyone throws away when they find it in their trick-or-treat bag.

“What is this?” I managed to choke out. I couldn’t even look at the man, I was so utterly disgusted.

“Candy,” he growled. “What else would it be?” He seemed to be hiding his amusement at my reaction.

After a few more moments of staring at the positively disgraceful ‘candy’ with my mouth wide open in shock, I gave him a defiant glare. “I hate you,” I spat. “Come on, Bran, we’re leaving.” I grabbed his hand and stormed out of the awful house.

“Happy Halloween,” he laughed, watching us leave. Brandon waved goodbye to him, giggling to himself. How could he possibly find this amusing?!

“Yeah, happy Halloween indeed,” I muttered. This had proven itself to be the worst Halloween ever.