MicroHorror

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to take candy from strangers?” I growled.

The boy on my front porch, wearing a Jigsaw mask, looked up at me. I knew that he was the one who smashed my pumpkins last year.

“Trick or treat,” he said again, and I dumped a handful of candy into his sack. He skipped down the
driveway to his smiling parents.

I looked into the candy dish at my homemade chocolate candies.

Would his parents still be smiling when they woke up in the morning to find their heathen-child dead?