Traces of fog clouded Emma’s bedroom window. The fog was so bad that it erased almost the entire view from every window, except for one smack in the middle. The fog framed what Emma would always look at anyways: the old oak tree. She could see it right from her bedroom window when she was doing homework at her desk. She couldn’t keep her mind off it. Something about the white fog made it a haunting-like character of a house. She looked at it, taking her eyes off her English midterms. The leaves on it were crisp orange, but she could barely muster the warmth of them because it was too dark out. Her window was slightly open which let in a cool breeze to the room. There was a rustic smell suddenly, and lately, Emma had been smelling it more. It only came at night, however, when she was at her desk.
Appalled, she shut the window and looked at the tree one last time. Usually oak trees were full of life and look so strong. This old oak tree, however, was quite the opposite. The branches were wilting and grew in misery. The decayed erosion was filled with mold, and the withered branches sagged heavily. The tree was tired of life and was a haunt to itself. Small holes were chipped in various spots which created an ugly, yet horrific pattern. The holes taunted Emma and she watched them mindlessly, constantly.
“Emma, kids are coming soon! Can you watch by the door and hand them candy?” her mom shouts from downstairs.
“Yes, of course,” Emma quickly responds.
Emma never left the house. There was school, activities, and church. It wasn’t like she was trapped or anything; she just never saw any point to leave the house.
The doorbell rings. It’s the first trick-or-treater.
Emma was expecting a sweet and innocent child to show up at the door asking for candy or to pet their dog. Kit Kats seem to always be the first things gone.
When Emma opens the door, a man with a mask of a clown appears in front of her. His hair was dyed orange perfectly, and it almost even looked like his natural hair.The ringlets in his hair were a bit frizzy, and the more Emma analyzed it, the more shock she had realizing a boy’s hair could be just as thick as a woman’s.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice changed within the mask, and Emma stepped back a little hearing it.
“You didn’t,” she lied, “it’s Halloween.”
The man smiled. His teeth looked sharp for whatever reason, and his mask seemed to almost have a white glow to it. The color against the front porch reflection filled with warmth, and Emma sensed no harm. She felt safe.
“You should tell the person that did your mask that it’s amazing,” she told him and handed him the first Kit Kat of the night.
“Ah, thank you! It’s interesting actually, I found it by that tree in front of your house.”
The man turns with a toxic smile plastered on his grim face. It disturbed Emma to see this side of him.
“Wait, really? Just chilling on the ground?”
“No, the tree gave it to me,” he whispers.
“What?”
The man laughs eerily. His eyes twinkled, which mesmerizes Emma and captures her affection. He shakes his head, “I was kidding.”
He snatches the Kit Kat out of Emma’s hand and Emma stands frozen for a split-second in thought.
“Happy Halloween, my pretty!” she thinks she heard him say. She slammed the door immediately, and goosebumps crept up through her skin.
She shook them off quickly and runs back upstairs. The wind rustled in her room once more. Emma no longer remembered whether she closed the window or not. The old oak tree stared at her. The white holes slowly grew more and more every day in October. She wondered what would happen on Halloween.
The doorbell rang again, and with a grunt, Emma treaded back down the steps once more. This was probably her seventh time with a trick-or-treater. She hated that her mom set her up for this. She didn’t want to leave the comfort of her bedroom, her laptop, and fall-scented candles. She liked being in the warmth and knowing that she was far away from any white dangers.
When she opens the door, a little boy held a sharp knife out in front of him. Emma jumped back, startled, and the boy watched her with a fat smile. His eyes widened in fascination at the fear in Emma’s features. She had her hand on her chest and breathed a bit more heavily.
The little boy looked down at the knife and ran his fingers by the blade.
“Um, kid…” Emma began. She wasn’t sure how she should start this conversation, “Where is your mother?”
The boy smiles a little. “Not here.”
His voice sounded innocent, and Emma didn’t think much of it. He looked about seven years old and was dressed in an angelic-like costume. The boy was full of energy and light; he was practically luminous. His heavenly child-like features were admired by Emma. She felt an instant fascination as she looked at him. His skin color was a bit browner and his black hair was thick. His deep, dark, and brown eyes darted side-to-side in the house drearily. His spectacular and enchanting persona distracted anyone weak.
“I think you should drop the knife,” Emma suggests.
“On you?” the kid asks. He was joking, but tilted his head to the side and continued to grin.
“Where is your mom right now? I will walk with you.”
It was almost past eleven at night. Emma never went out this late, but she figured she should help the little boy. She would’ve much rather stayed in the comfort of her bed. All Emma wanted was the warmth and safety net of the home. She wasn’t even sure if she needed to be out; however, he did have a knife to protect himself.
The two were walking incredibly slow. They just left Emma’s driveway. No people were around. Families and kids must’ve been out at the time they had left. The street was a ghost-town, and all that was left was the ongoing old oak tree. The white holes were even larger now if that were possible and the closer the two got to the tree, the white and enchanting light that seemed to glow from Emma’s window was gone. The only thing that was still there was the smell of rust and dust.
“My mother isn’t here,” the boy says, grabbing Emma’s arm. He brought her right next to the tree and almost hit her face against the branch.
“Let me guess,” Emma says, “that knife is from the tree too?”
The boy nodded and smiled.
“It is amazing, and it gives me gifts. All I had to do was one thing,” he grinned.
Emma looked back at the old oak tree. It was rising and the white glow grew. There was a pure shimmer of life that came out of one of the holes. It stretched far back, and it presented itself like a portal. The white light fanned a field of heat onto Emma’s cheeks. It gave her pleasure in juxtaposition to the cold fall air surrounding her. She gave in.