Trick or Treat?

Part I

I categorically deny the murder charge levelled against me and declare, to the best of my knowledge and belief, the information herein is true and complete. I understand this statement is made for use as evidence in court and is subject to penalty for perjury.

Signed: MX 

***

It was a starry night. Doorbells, chatter, shrieks and laughter rippled through the cotton candy breeze. In the neighbouring yard, trick-or-treaters clustered together, comparing and trading their latest earnings, heads flicking toward my companions and I. Eyes bright and grins mischievous, they scampered to the next house. There was a tacit understanding that nobody must witness what my companions and I were about to do.

31st Ruseworth Road, the lone house forming the cul-de-sac, remained unadorned and unilluminated. Furthermore, the Darlingtons never answer their door on Halloween nights nor do they leave candy on the porch. In response to this snub, an informal tradition developed: the chosen four must trick the Darlingtons.

Strewing candy wrappers across the Darlingtons' front yard had been my idea. Unlike our fellow trick-or-treaters, my companions and I carried two bags. The first contained treats while our weapons crackled in the other.

As the closest trick-or-treaters cleared away, rounding the adjacent street's corner, my enthusiasm waned. The night's cheer evaporated, suddenly a faraway phantasm. Cotton candy no longer sweetened the breeze, now fingertips prickling the nape of my neck. 31st Ruseworth Road's gloom felt oppressive beside the light streaming through neighbouring windows. I felt as if I stood upon the shore of an island shunning positivity.

"We can't do this!" whimpered the trembling Damsel. "Who will save us if something goes wrong?!"

"If we cloak ourselves in shadow, bide our time, target the jugular at the opportune moment then take flight, we will have nothing to worry about," came the Kunoichi's reply.

"Bah! Where's the fun in that? We should dance across their yard as we scatter these wrappers. Those dastardly Darlingtons must know that justice will be delivered without fear or favour." The Superhero raised his fist and placed the other on his hip. With his head tossed back and cape billowing, he glowered down his nose at 31st Ruseworth Road.

I flinched before my companions' expectant faces. Of course the burden of choice fell upon the mastermind!

The neighbouring homes beckoned but pride restrained me. I could not be immortalized as the first coward to choose failure. 

With my reputation at stake, I surveyed 31st Ruseworth Road alongside the teary-eyed Damsel, mustering courage to play our simple trick. Beyond the picket fence, hedges, trimmed weekly by Mr Darlington, flanked the little driveway leading toward the double garage's polished doors. Dew glistened on the freshly cut lawn. Before the gloomy porch, Mrs Darlington's hyacinths, gladiolas and forget-me-nots shook their heads. A warm gust brushed against my cheek, coaxing my eyes back toward the neighbouring homes. If only I heeded the call...

"Err... well... this is a dilemma. We can't force the Damsel to participate and I can't choose between your brilliant strategies. If we brought a fifth person, voting would be so much easier..." I tittered.

As the resulting silence lengthened, I felt optimistic my companions would commence a deadlocked argument at any moment. Instead, they stared past my shoulders. I turned to behold exactly what I had wished for!

My efforts toward an irreproachable exit fizzled. Beneath the closest street light, a silhouette observed us. Unable to utter a sound, unable to budge, I lost consciousness of my surroundings as that silhouette blotted the stars.