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Happy Halloween

Cory had been watching the house for three hours straight. He was determined to see what was beyond those curtains, and he dismissed the lurid tales of murder and madness that had long clung to the house like a malignant skin for the past seventy years. About an hour ago he thought he had seen movement behind the faded linen that hung limply in the shadows of the upstairs window. Of course, that was crazy, because nobody had lived there as far back as he could remember, and he was almost thirteen!

Checking to see that no one was watching, Cory kept to the shadows and crept noiselessly to the front gate. Battered and worn by bitterly cold winters and sweltering summers, the once green fence now suffered from the effects of neglect, and only patches of paint remained to bear witness to happier days, long past. Pushing cautiously at the gate, he cringed to hear the shrill complaint of rusted hinges and quietly eased himself through the gate and up the steps to the front door.

"Boy, if the guys could see me now! Maybe they'd stop teasing me and let me hang out with 'em once in awhile" he thought. His large frame and his unfortunate feminine facial features had conspired to make him an easy target at school. He was sure that if he could just find something in the house that would prove he had been there, the other boys would finally give him some respect. After all, he couldn't help it if his face looked like a girl's. Heck, every chance he got, he would sneak into his fathers bathroom and practice shaving. Afterwards he would stare into the mirror, straining to see the first evidence of his impending manhood, imagining thick black hair springing from his face like the bristles on a brush.

Cory knew that because of his size anyone passing by would be sure to spot him, so with his heart pounding in his throat, he turned the door knob and entered through the front door. He quickly shut the door behind him, and after peeking outside from the shadows of the foyer to make sure nobody had seen him, he turned slowly to face the interior of the house. Not even that jerk Brad Messick was brave enough to do what he'd just done. Here he was, standing in the very house where that family had been killed, and he wasn't even crying or nothing!

The filtered light from a lamp post outside enabled him to see that the room still held a few pieces of furniture, and off to the left on a small table he could see something reflecting the dim illumination from the street. As

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