When I was a kid, we lived in a decent sized development in our little town. We’d put on our costumes, over our long underwear, of course, and set out into the cold (and sometimes snow) with pillowcases in hand for our annual candy procurement mission.
Our neighborhood had been built up gradually over time, and was bookended by two old farmhouses, both of which were considered “scary houses” by us kids. A single old man resided in the one at the point where our road intersected with the main highway, and despite his resemblance to Santa Claus and apparent friendliness, we all thought he was creepy. There were rumors about razor blades in the caramel apples he handed out to trick-or-treaters, and his garage was purple with broken windows, so we mostly stayed away, or, when we felt daring, ringing the doorbell on Halloween with the express purpose of trying to get a glimpse inside.
At the other end of the road, down the hill and near my mom’s cousin’s cow pasture, was an imposing brick house with a very long stairwell up from the road to the front door. We didn’t know anything about the people that lived there, and they had a couple of dogs that would bark and charge at anyone who approached the house. One year, I remember doing it on a dare. I started up the steps, trying not to disturb the smaller of the two dogs, some sort of mid sized terrier, apparently asleep on the grass nearby. The other dog was nowhere to be seen. As I approached, the dog, looking almost dead there in the grass, it suddenly leapt up and began barking, alerting the other dog in its position on the other side of the house. I turned and ran as fast as I could, both dogs chasing me down the stairs but stopping short once i reached the street. In retrospect, it was probably silly, but I was utterly terrified.
Tell me your creepy trick-or-treat stories. Were there any scary houses in your neighborhood growing up?
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