623

“Just don’t go by that house tomorrow. You know it’s not a safe place to be.” It was after dinner, just around dusk, and the dishes needed to be washed.

“But, mom, I’ve heard they give out the best Halloween candy – full sized bars,” Greg pleaded.

His mom looked and his innocent eyes as she tried to find the right words. “There’s a reason the gate is locked at 623. They’re not home most of the time.” She continued washing the plates and the glasses, looking down toward the dirty water.

“But Tim said he was there last year.” Greg frowned. “Pretty please?”

“By the way, where has Tim been lately? I haven’t seen him at the pick-up lane or at the baseball games.” Mom knew Greg didn’t have many friends, and Tim was one of the few he had. They’d been together since kindergarten.

“I’m not sure. Maybe his family went on a long cruise or something. He came over last year for our Halloween party, and then we…”

He hesitated, “…we went to 623.” Greg looked at his shoes.

“What? Even after we told you not to go?” His mom became upset and even more concerned. “And you haven’t seen him since last year? That place is dangerous. Where has Tim been all year?”

Greg said, “When I walked by the house yesterday, the flowers that were in bloom the day before were in bloom. Today they’re all dying. But I didn’t see or hear anybody.”

“You don’t have to,” his mom replied. “We’ll go to another neighborhood instead. With your cousins. You’ll have fun. You are not going to 623, and that’s final. There’s something not right with that place.”

“It won’t be the same without Tim.” Greg had already started to plan a different route for Halloween. He was planning something.

Slowly walking home from school on Halloween Day, Greg did exactly what his mother told him not to do; he stopped by 623. He put his Jansport backpack down by the sidewalk in front of the place and peered through the rusty iron gate. The cement posts on both sides were wet yet there was no rain in days. Dry leaves blew around in circles in front of the gate. Nothing seemed out of place, just dead. All the plants, flowers, even the trees were becoming lifeless as leaves fell off without turning colors. He turned back and picked up his backpack, and then decided he was going in.

He pushed open the creaky iron gate and looked for the front door, obscured by the thorny bushes. The stairs were well hidden, but he found them covered with mold and slime. No cars, no sounds, nothing that indicated anyone was home. He wanted to knock on the door, but he was scared about all the stories he heard about this house. It was whispered it lived off people’s energy. It was haunted. It had ghosts. It had aliens. He had heard all the rumors.

Instead, he walked around the side to the back side of the house and peeked into a large window. Nothing but dust lay among the furniture, the window, the whole place it seemed. He looked into another window on the other side. He had to use his sweatshirt to wipe the cobwebs from the outside. He suddenly felt ill at what he saw.

There positioned on the couch were a series of skeletons, all sitting around a coffee table. He recognized his friend among them, still wearing his favorite school shirt. Before Greg could scream, someone grabbed him and roughly pulled him into the house.