It’s pitch-black outside. The air is cold and wet, yet it carries a lingering sweet smell. Sporadic beams of light dance in the night, casting an eerie glow on the landscape. Giggles, whispers, and even the occasional scream carry through the streets, a reminder that others are out and about.
Through the eyes of one of these figures, a house is seen. The figure changes course and heads in the direction of the house. The house is unlit and looks unoccupied. In one hand the figure holds a large sack; the other yields a blunt sword.
As the figure makes his way up the porch and to the door, the hand that is holding the sword points forward. The hand is not a human’s hand. It’s about twice as big as a man’s hand. Coarse, dark fur covers its skin, while jagged claws extend from the aged fingers.
The creature now stands directly in front of the door, its purpose clear. It only wants one thing and that thing remains inside the house. With a blast of energy the hand with the sword raises, lunges, and slams into the house.
A chime echoes. The front door opens. The man who opens the door smiles happily while looking down, hardly frightened by the four-foot tall, hairy monster screaming “Trick or treat!”
Take a moment to catch your breath and slow your heartbeat. Despite my enjoyment of Halloween, it’s not my focus for the remainder of this chapter. However, the doorbell that so frequently sounds during that annual holiday ...