It had always been her ritual, and Thomas, her husband, had tried to stop her without avail. No one could control the passion and the unfading desire within her that made her depart from the house that night.
The night that had enveloped a neighborhood along the Underground Railroad left her with a secure place to hide. No one saw her as she entered the beat up sedan quietly like a flock of runaway slaves, firing up the engine. Hard rock music muffled the noise; no one suspected a thing.
All she needed were the tools - where were they? She remembered the shiny metal knife in the kitchen of her new home. She would have to do it there this year; she couldn't risk being seen again with it, not after how the policemen and Mr. Pluto, the demon-possessed and ever so standoffish man next door, had questioned her last year. It would be too much of a risk.
Like a bat through the night sky, she crept down the driveway backwards to the right and then straightening into the right lane - the car was a missile guided to its destination. Down the darkened streets past the lit houses - the trick-or-treaters would be coming soon.
Swift as a horse, she exited her car, clicking the door shut behind her. The dirt below her feet silenced her steps; she looked into the serene darkness of the field and it caught her eye. She had discovered her target - Pesty was his name. Yes, his - he was named after a girl. Darting behind some trees, she knew she would have to be swift. She moved silently; the ground wasn't moist like last year and the hard dirt below her feet guided her effortlessly through the darkness and soon she was upon him...
She breathed in, and out, she had done this before - taken the lives of many innocent young ones. It would be a piece of cake. She had to separate his head from the rest of him, but it never surprised her how easy it was to do so. Soon she had him in her arms, and she struggled to bring him back to the tattered car. The trunk was open already and she threw him in. He landed hard; she had to make sure he was okay - she didn't want anything to ruin the perfect murder plans she had prepared so carefully.
The ride home was harder than she thought it would be. He rolled around in the back of the car as they passed the house of Dies Drear, and the car shook with every one of his indurated movements as they bumped through the dark tunnels. Why had she chosen him when there were smaller ones - ones who would have been easier to move with? Yet, of course, she knew that when it was easy there was no fun, no challenge of the game. This would be worth it.
She started to worry as she neared her familiar street about whether she would be able to get him inside all right. Would it be a problem? She became so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the...