Page 2 of Trick or Treat

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Riley snaps, taking a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brighter in protest. “She’s a fucking liability! We can’t have her wandering around asking questions.”

“Relax, man. She’s just a girl sitting by the fire,” I urge, suppressing my need to pounce on the opportunity. “One little distraction won’t matter. Think about it—your sister being here can work to our advantage.”

Riley exhales sharply, the smoke curling in the air. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

I cast a casual glance back at the group, noticing a couple of them getting restless, fueling my imagination as I formulate a plan.

“What if she screams my name? I can’t let her see me. I’m not risking it,” Riley insists, already able to tell what I’m thinking.

“Just put the mask back on, Riley,” I demand, letting a dark chuckle escape my lips. “This way you get to keep your secret while we all still have our fun. You can always claim you were in a different part of the city.”

He hesitates, still unconvinced but swayed as the growing excitement in my voice ignites the darker corners of his mind. “Alright, fine… Just... just make sure she doesn’t see me.” He gingerly puts his mask back on, but I can see the trepidation masking his aggressiveness.

“Trust me; I plan to stay far away from your sister and that other girl.” I turn my attention back to the group of oblivious students, already whispering the mantra in my head: blood flows, and the world thrives in chaos. My fingers twitch with anticipation.

“Let’s move,” I say to the group, making my way toward the edge of the firelight, blending in with the shadows as I venture closer and closer to the scattered group. The intoxicating buzz of youthful laughter fills my ears—intoxicating enough to drown out the growing sense of dread that comes with what we’re about to unleash.

In the back of my mind, the haunting folklore of Salem runs like a twisted lullaby. The witch trials, the whispers of blood-soaked earth—it all bleeds into my thoughts as we approach the unsuspecting gathering. Every shred of my being ignites with the thrill of the hunt. My senses tune in sharp as I note the subtle shifts in their laughter and the way they lean into each other, clueless to the fate that awaits them.

I lock eyes with the girl with black hair again—she doesn’t see me, but I see her—and a thrill courses through me, a silent promise; she will not walk away unscathed.

“Sil,” Nixon whispers, using my nickname now that we’re hidden beneath our masks. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll lure one of them in. Just like hunting deer during mating season; act weak, and they’ll come charging at me. I don’t want any witnesses, so we grab the easiest one.”

A shared grin spreads amongst us as we step closer, huddling together in the darkness.

Riley, though agitated, nods subtly. “White,” he mutters to Nixon, using the color of his mask as a nickname. “Just get my sister out of there. Once you do, don’t let her out of your site until we’re ready to go.”

The beauty of the night dances before my eyes, mingling seamlessly with elements of danger and deception. I adjust my mask, ready to play my part in the game we’ve turned this into.

I’m going to make this night unforgettable—both for me and my new muse. And as we emerge from the shadows, a promising deathly silence begins to wrap around the party like a shroud.

“Time to pop them cherries,” I say, a vicious grin splitting my face. “Let’s give them a night to remember but that they’ll so desperately want to forget.”

one

The Muse & The Mystery

Two weeks later

Scarlett

Isit cross-legged on the couch, my laptop resting on my thighs, staring blankly at the screen until my eyes burn and my vision blurs. The task at hand—writing my first paper of the year—evades my concentration. All I can focus on is the relentless sound of rain hammering against the window behind me, whipped by the wind. A shiver runs through me, not from the cold but from the uneasy sensation that clings to the air.

Having been living a few months now in Salem, I find myself completely enchanted by the small town vibes, the intriguing, famous history, and the spooky atmosphere wherever you go, though I could do without the recent surge of unsolved murders.

My gaze drifts from the laptop screen to the television, where a ‘breaking news alert’ interrupts the current program. A newscaster appears, delivering the grim details of another brutal murder—again, with the same chilling MO as all the others. There’s no evidence, just a body discovered set on fire in the cemetery, and they’re awaiting the victim’s dental records to make a positive identification.

A chill skitters down my spine, and I scratch absently at my skin, unaware that I’ve drawn blood in my distraction. My mind wanders backto that murder a few weeks ago at the cemetery where I attended my first party. A guy I had been talking with was later found headless and mutilated, discovered by a dogwalker the following morning. The killer still roams free, and the police have had no leads—the same story for all of the other unsolved murders haunting the town. Since then, I’ve steered clear of any other parties, just to be safe.

The sudden sound of a toilet flushing down the hall jolts me back to the present. I lower the volume on the TV and switch to another channel, eager to escape the gruesome details. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a fleeting glimpse of a man in a blood-red hoodie slipping out the front door. Panic surges within me before I can even register who it is. I didn’t know anyone was here. My roommate Carli, whom I met at that party a few weeks ago through my friend Melanie, had said nothing about having company. As far as I knew, she was at work this morning, and I’ve been alone all day.

But that’s obviously not the case.

My heart races as I snatch my phone off the charger and hastily send her a text.

Hey, did you have some guy stay over last night?

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