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As you approach the first house you feel a sinking feeling. A pit opens in your stomach. But you dismiss it, pushing it to the back of your mind. You ascend the stairs of the wooden deck leading to the front door. You take your first step, a creak ringing out through the silence. Out of the corner of your eye you swear you see something moved, falling back onto the wooden steps and sending out another loud creaking sound. It was your shadow. With a relieved sigh, you stand up, ignoring the rest of the noise you make as you ascend up and onto the deck.

 

Now standing before the door, you raise your hand in a fist. Three sharp knocks ring out.

 

“Trick or Treat…” you mumble, the realization dawning on you that there is no other house around and you may have just walked into a horror flick.

 

As the silence continues, you slowly back away from the door, deck creaking with each step. If this really was a horror flick, you’d trip and find that the monster was right behind you. You spin around, eyes looking through the fog as best you can. You can’t pick out what’s real and what’s a shadow.

 

Can I help you…?”

 

You spin around to find the source of the voice.

 

A scruffy old man stood in the now open doorway leading into the house, but only darkness lies behind him. He had a unkempt beard and long knotted hair. His clothes were covered in what looked like dog fur. He gave you a wolfish grin.

 

Ayyyyyyyoooo.” His greeting sounded like a howl as he got to the end. He waited expectantly for your reply.

 

“H-hey…” You mumbled after a VERY long awkward silence. But your greeting just made way for more awkward silence.

 

Could it get any more uncomfortable? Yes. Yes it could.

 

Need something?” The old man grunted.

 

“No.”

 

You avoided the old man’s gaze as he glared at you. He could’ve continued the conversation but he didn’t. Was he torturing you with more crushing social anxiety?

 

You already had problems going out in public, now you wouldn’t even be able to go out in disguise. The crippling social anxiety that you’d experience would be several times worse, and it would be because of this moment.

 

The old man scratched behind his ear, dandruff floating down to the floor. Ew. Proper scalp care is necessary when you have as much hair as this old man did. But it also seemed like he hadn’t taken a proper shower or bath in years. He smelled like a wet dog.

 

Then it hit you. Of course! He was obviously a werewolf. You praised your skills of deduction. It was at that moment the old man-well he’s a werewolf so you decide to just call him Biscuit the Werewolf. But anyway, he cleared his throat to get your attention.

 

“Yes Biscuit?!” You jumped, saying that without thinking.

 

Biscuit raised a brow. “What did you just call me?

 

Your blood ran cold. You now realized Biscuit was cute and ironic because of his strong and hairy build, but Biscuit might not like your naming choice.

 

“Nothing! Nothing at all!” You replied, fearing for your life.

 

Did you call me…Biscuit?” He growled.

 

“Absolutely not!” You told him, shaking your head furiously.

 

Biscuit thought for a moment. “I love it.” He sighed.

 

Normally, this would be strange, but honestly, he was a werewolf. Can’t get any weirder.

 

Okay, that’s a lie. It can get weirder.

 

But thankfully it didn’t.

 

I’m Biscuit. I like it. Sounds good.” He grunted. And that was it.

 

Now it was awkwardly silent again.

 

So are you a werewolf?” Biscuit growled, breaking the silence.

 

Um,” This could go several ways. You needed to be smart about this. “I am for halloween.

 

Biscuit paused. Then he nodded.

 

So this is an outfit. Nice. Werewolves are cool.” Biscuit folded his arms, nodding in approvement.

 

“Oh, yeah. They’re pretty cool.” You reply.

 

Friends?” Biscuit asked, raising a bushy brow.

 

You shook your head. “Going lone wolf.”

 

Biscuit snorted. “Wow. We’re a lot alike.” He trailed off, looking into the distance.

 

The sudden tension makes you feel awkward. This silence seems to be the worst so far.

 

Want to….come with?” You ask.

 

You watch as Biscuit’s features light up.

 

“I can?” He asked, like a little kid.

 

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You reply.

 

Biscuit grabbed a coat off the wall, slamming the door behind him and thudding down the creaking stairs. He turned back.

 

“Hurry up!” He called, taking off down the street.

 

You chase after him, like a mom chases after her children. Literally, he’s like a small child running away from home. Actually, that seems more likely than any other theory you’ve had so far.

 

As you head down the road, you approach, ah, a graveyard. No halloween story is complete without at least one graveyard scene.

 

Biscuit turns around excitedly, waving his arms at you. As you catch up, breathing heavily from chasing him, he fixes you with a large grin.

 

Look, the graveyard!” He exclaimed.

 

“I can, uh, see that.” You reply wiping sweat from your forehead. Biscuit raised his face up, taking a deep breath. In that moment he actually looked like an old man.

 

His eyes suddenly narrowed. “Since when do you prowl the graveyard?” Biscuit snapped.

 

Raising a brow, you let out a confused, “What?”

 

You heard a branch snap and two pale looking people appeared behind a large marble gravestone.

 

You took a step behind Biscuit, a soft growl rumbling in his throat. The two people wore old victorian clothes, the man in a suit, the woman in a deep purple ballroom dress. Their pale skin looked ghastly.

 

Again, a lightbulb went off in your head. Vampires. Probably. I mean, you didn’t know for sure but that seemed likely.

 

“We could ask the same of you, Werewolf.” The woman spat in disgust.

 

Over Biscuit’s shoulder you could see someone, a kid your age. But they were dressed as a vampire so probably just looked your age. They met eyes with you, raising a brow.

 

You then noticed the fake plastic fangs just barely visible between their lips. The nostalgia of the hard plastic rubbing uncomfortably against your gums overwhelmed you. Ah, they were in costume. But then, why are they with seemingly real vampires?

 

You’re drawn away from your thoughts when Biscuit starts to argue with the two bloodsuckers.

 

“Maybe you two should just turn the other way?” He growled.

 

“No way!” The vampire man scoffed. “We’re here for a very important reason!”

 

“I think you both need to leave.”

 

You all jump, looking up to see a delicate old lady on top of an old broom. Behind her, you see a more or less rip off of her. Yet another kid seemingly your age.

 

Wait. The old woman, wore a pointy hat, rode a broom, and you swore you saw a sassy black cat on the end of that broom before it flew off into the trees. A witch!

 

Biscuit snorted. “And what’s a mothball like you doing here?”

 

The witch glared at your houndish friend.

 

“It’s not like the graveyard belongs to YOU.” She snapped, her voice gravely and vaguely reminding you of your grandmother’s.

 

You then notice how the mini witch behind her looks over at the fake vampire kid.

 

“It’s you!” They exclaimed.

 

Did they know each other? Most likely. Because the fake vampire responded with: “This happened to you too?”

 

So in conclusion, you figure you’ve all been transported here and these two know each other.

 

“What? You know this old woman’s disciple?” The vampire lady asked, turning to the fake vampire.

 

The fake vampire nodded. “They’re my best friend.”

 

The witch rolled her wrinkly eyes.

 

“I could care less if you know each other.” She coughed.

 

The vampire man turned on her. “What do you mean you could care less! This is very important!”

 

“Yes! Now that we know they’re friends they must go trick-or-treating with one another!” The vampire lady insisted.

 

You couldn’t see the relevance or connection these vampires were making. But as the witch and vampire couple broke out into an argument, you heard a voice behind you.

 

“What’s over there Alex?”

 

You spun around, coming face to face with, well, half a face.

 

You jump back in surprise, not able to say a word. A zombie.

 

The rest of the monsters turned to look at the fourth party now arriving: two zombies.

 

Well, a real zombie and a fake zombie. The fake zombie was yet another kid your age, dressed up for Halloween.

 

“…wro..ng…turn…” The zombie mumbled to the kid.

 

“I can see that.” The fake zombie sighed. “This is the last time I let you give directions Alex.”

 

The witch, vampires, and Biscuit, turned to the new undead friend, or foe.

 

“Ah, perfect.” The witch chuckled. “You, zombie, come with us.”

 

The zombie, scratched behind their one and only ear. “…why..?”

 

“I need you for reasons.” The witch replied.

 

The zombie shrugged. “..sou..nds…good…” You saw the look on the kid’s face behind the zombie. Absolute disbelief.

 

But the zombie grabbed their hand, leading them over to the witch.

 

“Wait, you can’t leave with our child’s friend!” The vampire man said.

 

The witch stuck out her tongue, grabbing the zombie’s hand while the kid climbed onto the broom behind the mini witch. With a snap of her fingers, a black cat zoomed out of the trees and the ascended up and zoomed off.

 

Now it was just you and the vampires. But the vampires weren’t interested in you or Biscuit. They shuffled around in circles around the poor kid. You could tell from their face they were questioning their life decisions right about now.

 

“Psst.”

 

You looked over at Biscuit, who gestured for you guys to leave while they were confused. Stumbling after Biscuit you race off out of the graveyard, heading who knows where.

 

You never really uncovered what exactly happened that led you into this short and anticlimactic story, but your new and sometimes frightening journey with Biscuit continues. Two lone wolves on the road.

 

Although Biscuit is much older than you, he certainly doesn’t act like it. Full Moons are exciting, but after the second and third transformations, you’re a pro.

 

Even if you miss your family, you’ve found a new family with Biscuit, always on the road.

 

As you set about your life, you can’t help but wonder how it could’ve gone different that night. Would it have been different if you’d dressed up as something else? Probably.

 

Story by Olivia Miller