Two plump, saber-toothed pumpkins flanked our walkway, a warning to passers-by to enter at their own risk. As soon as dusk fell, two candles were carefully placed inside its pulpy-orange carcass illuminating the path leading to my front door. Those who dared make the short journey from the street did so with trepidation, their fear mounting as each footstep added to the macabre chill of the night. And no ordinary night it was, but what for a young child was fraught with foreboding made all the more ominous by the Halloween monster that dwelled inside my house.
Each year on the last day of October, the monster came to life, morphing from his human state into a character of grotesque proportions. A mere glance struck terror in the hearts of trick-or-treaters brave enough to include our house as part of their annual rounds.