A Witch's Night Out - Sex Stories

A Witch's Night Out

“The demons there are whirling, and the spirits swirl about. They sing their songs to Halloween. ‘Come join the fun,” they shout. But we do not want to go there, so we run with all our might And oh we will not go inside the haunted house tonight” -Jack Prelutsky, "The Haunted House" *** What happened in that town on Halloween night was not for children to see, and they were not allowed in the town limits after sundown. Young children trooped off to neighboring towns for trick or treating, and teens were sent to Halloween parties elsewhere in the county. The adults never talked about what went on while they were gone, and all the children knew was that it had something to do with the house on the hilltop, and that the tradition, whatever it was, went back to the town's founding. The house sat empty all the rest of the year, inhabited only by an evil-tongued caretaker who tended the grounds and composed ever more colorful and startling obscenities to shout at those children brave enough and curious enough to venture near, and owned by some nameless person too rich to live in it. That was what it meant to be rich, Carol-Anne's mother once explained to her: To have too many things to be able to use them all. It was a rite of passage among town children to try to sneak into the house on the hill any day other than Halloween (although the few who did found nothing at all interesting), but no child ever tried to sneak in on Halloween itself. No matter how willful or disobedient or ...

... downright sneaky any of them may have been, on Halloween they obeyed their parents' orders and stayed away. Somehow they all knew that they were better off never knowing what really went on there. It would have stayed that way if not for the letter. Carol-Anne trembled as she plucked it from the mailbox and read the address, and then she raced upstairs, locking herself in the bathroom and holding her breath as she slid the flap open. A heart-stopping second passed while she read the first few lines, and then she squealed. Running back downstairs she burst in as her surprised mother and father prepared breakfast and cried, "I got it!" They looked confused, so she held up the letter. "I got the scholarship," she said. "I can go to Cal." She waited for their cries of joy to come, but nothing happened. Instead her parents looked as if she'd shot them. Mom was the first to recover, managing a weak smile before a tentative query: "I thought we were going to talk about it first?" Dad looked away, like he always did when he was upset and trying not to show it. He'd even gone a little pale. Carol-Anne suddenly felt weak in the knees. Dad was first to realize their mistake and leapt to cover it. "We're so proud," he said, hugging her with one arm. "We're just surprised. We didn't even know you'd applied yet." "It's wonderful news," Mom said, managing a smile with a bit more life in it. They clucked happily for ten more minutes, only sliding in veiled references to further "talks" every ...