Trick or treat, smell my feet

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

Sarah lifted her witch’s hat off her eyes. She tried to stand it on her forehead but it slid down again. “Ben, can I ring the doorbell this time?”

Ben shook his head, then looked at her and knew she probably hadn’t seen him.

“No, I don’t think anybody’s home. The sign says not to open the door but to take as much candy as we want from the bowl. I’ll let you ring the next house.”

He led his sister by the hand. They each scooped a big fistful of candy, she giggled at the sweet indulgence.

Then they cut through the yard.

These didn’t seem like normal Halloween decorations. They didn’t even look plastic.

Ben began to feel a stupid, babyish fear bloom in his gut.

But he had to be brave for his little sister.

He squeezed her tiny palm.

She lifted her hat and blew her wispy hair out of her face. “Ben look, this skeleton looks so real.”

She was right, it did. It had little bits of stained leather that looked like dried skin.

He pulled her back.

But she pulled forward. “And look at these chopped off feet!” She leaned towards the hyper-realistic gore and wrinkled her nose. “They even smell!”

His curiosity was too great.

He leaned forward….

Took a whiff.

They stank like their dad’s gym shoes and rotten meat.

The yellowed toenails looked… authentic.

Bile rose in his throat. “Let’s get out of here.”

She laughed. “Why Benny. Are you scared?”

“No. I’m not.”

She lifted her hat again. “Prove it, open the door, otherwise your a baby!”

His mouth was full of sand and his throat rasped.

He clenched her hand very tight.

She never rang the next house.