In “Stay Out of the Woods on Halloween,” a man recalls his first solo trick-or-treating adventure as a young boy. Drawn into a prank by the school’s notorious bully, he faces a terrifying moment that blurs the line between childish tricks and something far more sinister lurking in the silent woods.
When I look back on my childhood, I remember the many Halloween horror stories we used to share as a family, or the Halloween nights spent wandering the familiar streets of my neighborhood, surrounded by the chilly, fresh autumn breeze and homes decked out with lavish decorations.
I consider myself lucky; our neighbors spared no expense, and my parents eagerly joined the playful rivalry to keep up with them. I can still see my dad’s grin over his masterpiece from a year prior—a levitating head made from an old CRT television and clear acrylic, surpassing the haunted labyrinth a few doors down.
The whole street hummed with festive energy and generous budgets; throngs of children would parade up one side and back down the other, passing through a gauntlet of spooky setups and ghastly figures, with candy overflowing.
The year I was finally allowed to trick-or-treat without my parents trailing behind remains etched in my memory. I dressed as a witch, my outfit meticulously sewn by my loving grandma, who let me choose the design at a craft shop a few towns over.
Many kids chose witch costumes, but none sparkled in violet like mine, a detail that thrilled my young heart. I carried a classic plastic pumpkin pail for my goodies. After supper and my mom’s safety lecture, I was set loose.
I ran into the street, merging with groups of kids already collecting treats. I darted among them and their chaperones, gathering sweets from overflowing themed bowls and cauldrons. I offered my thanks, as I’d been taught, though maybe a bit hurriedly in my eagerness.
I had destinations in mind. With the neighbors’ elaborate displays, I aimed to visit every house adorned with decorations that my small legs could carry me to. My mom had told me to stay on sidewalks and paths, steer clear of strangers, and keep to our street, well away from the woods.
Straightforward rules for a Halloween evening, but in my excitement—my first solo adventure—I overlooked them. When I spotted classmates slipping behind an old, abandoned house at the street’s end, I trailed after them.
The house, empty since before my birth, was dilapidated, a haunt for rowdy teens, according to my dad. It sat at the edge of the woods, where thick branches reached skyward like dark, jagged fingers grasping at the glowing moon.
You May Also Like: 10 Scary Campfire Stories That’ll Keep Everyone Awake All Night
A shiver coursed through me, whether from excitement or the chilly autumn air, I couldn’t say. Without hesitation, I veered from the sidewalk into the overgrown yard, drawn by the low hum of my classmates’ voices.
I slipped through a wide gap in the faded, ash-gray picket fence. I found myself among my peers, gathered around Dalton, the school’s most infamous troublemaker.
Dressed as a devil, like those in Bible school stories, Dalton fit his reputation as the meanest kid in our grade. He boasted about his frequent visits to the principal’s office, and rumors swirled that he’d been held back twice, explaining his towering height and habit of bullying us for lunch money.
If I’d been quicker, I could’ve slipped back through the fence, but Dalton spotted me. My sparkly purple costume made me stand out, and suddenly, I was shoved forward, tripping into the group.
Encircled, I saw blank indifference on my classmates’ faces. I wasn’t popular; I was always a bit of a loner, and I found no one to defend me. Resigned, I braced for whatever scheme they had planned.
Dalton pointed to the woods, a wicked grin revealing candy-stained green teeth. “There’s a monster in those woods,” he said.
It was clear what he meant, but fear crept in, my knees trembling as I stammered, “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Ain’t it obvious? We need bait, and you just kindly volunteered.” He laughed, his cronies snickering, while classmates murmured in agreement.
I was pushed out of the circle, past the worn fence, onto the grassy slope leading to the woods. I turned to argue, but Dalton’s sour-sweet breath hit me as he leaned close, grinning.
Words escaped me, my knees shaking as the wind carried the rustle of leaves and prickly branches. “We don’t got all night, smalls!” he barked, shoving me hard.
I stumbled back, catching myself on the hill. Glaring at him and his cronies, I knew I couldn’t outrun them or plead my way out.
“Well!?” Dalton taunted, jabbing toward the woods.
With no choice, I obeyed, scrambling up the hill onto leaf-covered, overgrown ground. I heard the group trailing me, watching my every terrified step toward the woods’ edge. Up close, the dark trunks loomed, their branches casting eerie shadows under the moonlight.
A few more quivering steps, and the trees towered like barren giants. Dalton shouted, “Stop! Stay right there, smalls! Don’t move!”
I froze, gripping my pumpkin bucket’s handle, ready to flee. Staring into the woods, a rising terror squeezed my chest, the wind and rustling trees drowning out my classmates’ voices.
I stood, too scared to glance back, too afraid that something might leap out; my senses were alert for danger.
After what seemed like minutes, irritation replaced fear. I realized Dalton’s “monster” was a prank, and they’d likely slipped away, leaving me standing foolishly before the eerie woods. I was wasting precious trick-or-treating time!
Angrily, I kicked the grass, humiliated for falling for Dalton’s trick, dreading school tomorrow. Then, a loud twig snapped, startling me. My head jerked up, ears straining, searching for the source. It had to be an animal—Dalton’s monster wasn’t real, so it must be a squirrel or something.
You May Also Like: 10 Short Horror Stories You Should Never Read Alone
In my peripheral vision, I noticed a bright pink spot in the dark grass—a piece of candy, odd since my bucket wasn’t full enough to spill. I bent to pick it up, then froze.
The air grew still, the hairs on my neck prickling, a primal instinct stirring. The woods were silent—no wind, no rustling leaves, no creaking branches. Just silence. It felt wrong, deeply wrong.
My hand, hovering over the pink candy, slowly pulled back. The silence lingered, waiting. My stomach knotted, cold sweat coated my hands, and I straightened slowly, eyes fixed on the out-of-place pink candy, both enticing and unnatural.
I waited, driven by instinct, until another twig snapped. I made the mistake of looking. In slow motion, something large and shapeless skittered between the trees.
I clamped my hands over my mouth, stifling a scream. I couldn’t comprehend what I saw, but every fiber of my being urged silence. Over the pounding blood in my ears, I listened, barely breathing.
Frozen, my body still, some ancient instinct kept me from running to the street’s safety. Trapped mere feet from something unknown, another candy appeared, rolling silently to rest beside the first.
The silence waited, and a new terror dawned—it was waiting for me. Body and mind aligned, I snapped free, running, tearing up grass and dirt, stumbling down the hill to the street.
I tripped on the concrete, skinning my hands and knees. The pain jolted me from my terror, the rush in my ears fading. A few classmates, looking guilty, helped me to my feet. My palms and knees stung, tears welled, and my bucket lay spilled across the sidewalk and the neighbor’s yard.
They returned my bucket, mostly empty. Over their concerned questions, I heard Dalton’s jeers, though someone scolded him to stop. I didn’t head home right away. Despite my racing heart and stinging scrapes, I visited a few more houses to replenish my candy.
My classmates followed, ensuring I wouldn’t tell, some offering their best treats as bribes before scattering. At home, I explained my scrapes with a tale of tripping on my shoelaces, which my mom patched up with fond exasperation.
I stayed up late, ate candy, and persuaded my parents to let me sleep with my radio on. As the light went out and the Ghostbusters theme played again, I thought of the woods and the silence, content never to face either again.
