The Trick
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 1: The Accident
Tina hated Halloween.
Not just the candy, the costumes, or the endless orange-and-black decorations — she hated the entire idea of it. The forced fun, the fake fear, the noise that went on until midnight. It all made her skin crawl.
At twenty-four, she lived alone in a small rented house at the edge of town. The neighborhood was full of families — loud ones — who spent all of October turning their lawns into haunted carnivals. Skeletons dangled from porches, fog machines hissed all night, and the air smelled like sugar and smoke.
This year, Tina decided she was done pretending.
She printed a sign in thick black letters: NO TREATS. DON’T BOTHER.
She taped it to the front door and shut off every light in the house, including the porch bulb. It was her version of a protest — her little stand against a holiday she despised.
The night started quiet. She poured herself a glass of wine, turned on a movie, and tried to ignore the muffled laughter outside. Occasionally, she caught a flicker of movement through the window — costumed children, orange glowsticks, the occasional flash of a camera.
But one thing made her uneasy. Her motion light — the one she had switched off — kept flickering on and off, as if someone were walking past the porch. Each time she looked, there was no one there.
By eight-thirty, she’d convinced herself it was just bugs or wind. She turned up the volume and sank deeper into the couch.
Then came a tap on the window.
She froze. Another tap. Like pebbles.
Her first thought was teenagers — older kids, the kind who liked to mess with quiet houses. She peeked through the blinds but saw only fog, thick and heavy. The streetlight across the road flickered, then went out completely.
Her heart ticked faster.
Then— THUD.
Something hit her front door hard.
She jumped, nearly spilling her wine. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She grabbed her phone, turned on the flashlight, and stomped to the door. “I swear, if this is some stupid prank—”
She yanked it open.
Cold air rushed in. The porch was empty.
Then she noticed them — a handful of tiny silver marbles scattered across the top step, glinting faintly in her flashlight beam.
“Real mature,” she muttered, stepping out. “You’re gonna break someone’s neck with—”
Her foot hit one.
She went down hard. The pain hit before she even realized she’d fallen — a white-hot flash exploding through her leg, followed by a deep, grinding throb. She screamed, the sound raw and animal.
Her phone spun out of her hand, clattering against the step. Its beam swung wildly, slicing through the fog.
Tina gasped, clutching her leg. “No, no, no—”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.