This week’s prompt, “Trick or Treat,” brought out the tricks, the treats, and a few surprises nobody saw coming. Four writers took on the challenge, each with exactly 200 words to deliver a Halloween twist.
The Prompt:
› Trick or Treat
Four stories answered the knock with very different surprises: a sinister social contract, an unexpected Halloween visitor, a cruel prank with consequences, and a disturbing secret behind a locked basement door.
Browse the stories in the Flash Fiction Archives, or below.
A big thanks to everyone who participated and took on the challenge this week!
Table of Contents
- Social Contract by Jesse R Traynham - Author
- The Visitor by D. R. Long - Storyteller
- Just Desserts by Mary Zuelke Author
- The Monster by Eolas Pellor
Likes: 5
Words: 200
"Don't you kids look cute in your costumes!"
"Just give us the candy, gramps."
"Sheesh. Someone forgot their manners."
"Look, mister. We have a specific social contract here. We look cute and yell 'trick or treat,' and you give us the goods."
"Ya know, kids. I think social media has ruined you." I gave the kids some candy, and they scurried down the drive.
Next batch of kids skipped up. They were just as rude.
"Just give us the candy, Pops, and everything will be fine."
They trotted down the drive to find their next victim.
Next group. Same thing.
"Give us the candy, man. You know how this works."
"Wait. You're the same kids as before! You're changing costumes and coming right back!"
"What of it?"
"You already have all my candy."
"Then we've got a problem. We yell 'trick or treat,' and you give us the candy. It's the law!"
"Well, kids, I'm afraid you've got this all wrong. I've been patient. I'm done."
"Yeah? What're ya gonna do bout it?"
"You're assuming treat. The treats ran out. Now it's time for trick."
That particular group of kids didn't do any more trick-or-treating that night, or ever again.
Likes: 5
Words: 200
“Who is knocking?” The impossibly old man asked. His skin was wrinkled and nearly translucent.
“We never get visitors!” The wretched old woman beside him screeched. She had long, wispy hair that refused to lie flat, and the same grey complexion the old man had. “And on Hallows’ Eve of all nights? The nerve of some people.”
“Should we see who it is, Helen?” The feeble old man worked his way up, his bones groaning.
“Of course, Harold!” She cackled, her bones clattering as she stood.
They grabbed their canes from beside their antique chairs. Slowly, they walked through the cobweb-filled foyer and to the heavy dark door.
Whoever was at the door knocked again.
“Just a minute... dang it!” Harold muttered, fumbling with the door handle. He pulled the creaky door open.
A tall cloaked figure with a sickle stood on the other side of the door. “Trick or treat!”
“What?” They croaked in unison.
“TRICK OR TREAT?”
“Does he want a treat?” Harold asked Helen.
“I think that’s what he asked for.” She turned to the figure. “We don’t have any treats!”
The figure pulled down their hood. Beneath it, a skull grinned. “Then trick it is!”
Likes: 3
Words: 200
“No, I don’t want to.”
“What, you a baby?”
Ted glanced at his shoes. He was new and wanted friends, but this?
“Naw, I don’t think so.” He turned to walk away when Brant shoved him to the ground and hurled the eggs.
All ten cracked against the old house.
Ted looked up, moaning. “They’ll think I did it.”
He pushed himself up, dusted off, and trudged to the door.
Knock-knock.
No lights were on. Nobody seemed to live here.
The door creaked open as he turned to go.
Ted inched in. “Hello.”
“Come in…”
Cobwebs brushed his head, and a musty smell hit him. He shuffled towards a faint light
where an old figure waited.
“Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but a frien—no, a kid threw eggs at your house.”
“Who did it?”
“I don’t like to tattle.”
“Clean the mess, and you shall be forgiven.”
Ted cleaned the windows—the eggs disappeared.
He entered the house to find a bag full of candy, all his favorites.
“Thank you.” Ted called—no one answered.
The next day at school, Brant’s mouth swelled shut. The candy he had eaten turned to eggshells, cutting his mouth from the inside.
by Eolas Pellor
Likes: 2
Words: 200
“Trick or Treat,” the two witches, princess, cowboy and headless man chanted as they hurried to the house next door. Classic costumes really; they were nice kids. He cast a look up and down the street, but it was getting late, and there were no more little monsters to see.
He snuffed out the candle in the jack’o’lantern, and turned off the porch light. Then he looked over at the bowl of goodies; he could remember a time when it would have been empty, but these days too many people kept their kids inside, afraid to let them have a little fun in the dark.
Clancy thought that was foolish. The things to be afraid of weren’t outside. They were always much closer than that. Well, he’d probably been the same when his Kitten was younger, he thought.
He selected a chocolate bar and headed toward the basement door. He pulled out the key and turned the lock, then shot back the heavy blots that fasted the solid oak top and bottom. For a moment he hesitated, then he took a deep breath and opened it.
“Time for your treat, Kitten!” he announced, stepping down into the dark, windowless cellar.
When Colton Travers was just four months old, a runaway horse on Bent Oak Road caused a car wreck that left his mother dead. His father survived, then vanished. Raised on family stories and faded photographs, he never questioned the past . . . until a worn shoe box of old clippings surfaced with hints of a darker truth. Now, drawn into a fifty-year-old unsolved case, Colton must chase a trail gone cold, where memory holds the clues, time keeps the truth, and justice demands satisfaction.
Stargazing at the June Bug Ranch
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