Posted Thursday October 25
Not a sound but the tap tap tap of a stick as the menacing cloaked figure slowly ambled along the street on that moody misty October night.
People crossed themselves and offered up prayers begging forgiveness for their sins as they peeped out from behind closed curtains, scared less it be they the grim reaper saught.
Once passed, the good folk of Hallowsham returned to whatsoever previously occupied them, content in the knowledge they were saved for another year.
Albert Bartleby breathed a sigh of relief as he sank deep into his armchair before the cracking log fire, a tankard of ale grasped in his quivering hand.
Then all of a sudden there was a loud banging on his old oak door, and releasing the tankard he thrust his hand to his chest willing his hammering heart to slow, but to no avail.
He tried to stand but instead fell to the floor his eyes bulging and his body lifeless, never to hear the excited children shout ‘Trick or treat Mr. Bartleby, trick or treat?'
For Six Sentence Stories where the cue word is Stick.