A halloween night takes an unexpected turn as two sisters set out to reclaim their childhood fun.

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“Quickly! People are already out on the street, all the candy will be gone!” Eliza shouted as she ran down the stairs. Dressed as a bee, her wings brushed against the walls on either side of her.

“Alright, alright,” Lilla responded impatiently as she arrived at the top of the stairs. “Aren’t we too old for this anyway?”

Eliza stopped and looked up at her sister. “If there is one thing I hate—,” she began.

“—Is children claiming all the fun holidays,” Lilla finished. “I know. You keep telling me.”

“It is true!” Eliza exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “Why would we stop once we reach a certain age? It doesn’t make sense.”

“We are going, aren’t we?” Lilla ran down the stairs, adjusting her butterfly wings. “We aren’t exactly scary.”

“Being scary on Halloween is overrated,” Eliza said as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “Let’s go!”

The sisters stepped out onto the dark streets and the shouts of children running around with buckets full of candy greeted them.

Eliza wrinkled her nose, and Lilla laughed. “I will never be an aunt, will I?”

“No,” Eliza said. “Never.”

She ran toward a house and rang the bell. An older lady opened the door and smiled.

“I was expecting some children.”

“Well, we’re twenty-eight and thirty years old, but children at heart,” Eliza said.

“If that’s the case, you get extra,” the older lady replied, pouring a bag of candy into Eliza’s bucket.

“Thanks,” Eliza smiled as she turned and walked back onto the street. “See? Everyone has had enough of these children claiming all the fun stuff.”

Lilla laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

They went from house to house. Everyone they met seemed happy to see them, and Eliza felt content. The night was going exactly how she had hoped.

As children, they had never gone trick-or-treating. Their parents never celebrated any festivities. Eliza knew this was why she wanted to be out tonight. After years of being denied the happiness children deserved, she had decided to claim it for herself.

She would never have children of her own; there was too much hurt and unresolved trauma from her past, and she would not wish that on her own offspring.

Lilla was different. She had been younger and could always lean on Eliza when times were tough, or when Father was angry again.

Eliza had never had anyone.

So it was safe to say that tonight was for her, and she would not let anyone stand in her way. She felt relieved that everything was going exactly as planned—until it didn’t.

“You are too old,” the woman in front of her said. She had long black hair, a stark contrast to her pale skin. “I’m not giving you candy.”

She pushed the door closed, but Eliza put her foot between the frame and the door.

“Madam, please give us candy. We are just trying to enjoy our night.” She smiled.

The woman smiled back, but it was not the kind of smile that radiated warmth. It turned Eliza cold as ice.

Eliza’s face dropped as she slowly moved her foot back.

“You will never be a child again, Eliza. You’ve missed the boat,” the woman whispered, so quietly that only she could hear.

“Let’s go.” Lilla grabbed her sister’s arm, but Eliza shook it free. “How do you know my name?” she asked the woman.

The woman tilted her head. “Your name,” she echoed. Her head twitched, and the world seemed to hold its breath. Eliza’s ears rang, her chest heaved with frantic breaths, and the space around her began to shrink.

“Bye now, little insect,” the woman said as she closed the door.

Eliza snapped back into reality.

“Eliza?” Lilla said hesitantly, her hand resting on her sister’s shoulder. “Don’t let her words get to you.”

“She knew my name,” Eliza whispered.

“What?” Lilla frowned and took both of her sister’s shoulders. “No she didn’t. Are you alright?” She pressed the back of her hand against Eliza’s forehead. “Are you ill? You feel warm.”

“No.” Eliza shook herself free. “She knew my name.”

“Eliza, you’re scaring me. Let’s go.” Lilla started toward the road, but Eliza didn’t move. Her hand flew to the doorknob, twisting it open. She stepped into the hallway.

“Eliza, what are you doing?” Lilla followed her inside and tried to pull her back. “We can’t trespass.”

Eliza realized she had made a mistake and nodded slowly. “Of course not.” She turned around and headed for the door.

Just as they were about to step outside, the door slammed shut.

“What…?” Lilla tried pulling the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. The children’s voices had vanished, leaving an eerie silence that sent shivers down Eliza’s spine.

Eliza looked around the hall. In front of her was the staircase. To her left, the living room, and to her right, the kitchen. She slowly made her way toward the left, clutching her sister’s hand.

“Madam,” she called. “We do apologise, but we seem to be stuck.” She shouted into the dark, silent room. “We didn’t mean to intrude. We can leave now.”

Only silence answered, and Eliza traced the wall in search of a light switch. They made their way through the room until her hand touched the familiar brick of a fireplace. She crouched down, searching for anything that could provide some light.

“Eliza,” her sister whispered. “I want to leave.”

“Me too, just… give me a second.” Her hand found a matchbox and her fingers shook as she lit one. She looked around the dimly lit room until she found a candle she’d been looking for. Igniting it, the room was still dark, but their eyes slowly adjusted.

“Where is all the furniture?” Lilla whispered, her voice shaking slightly.

Eliza frowned. “No idea. Maybe she just moved in.”

“Madam!” she shouted again as they walked toward the window. She opened the curtains, expecting the moonlight to spill in, but cursed at the sight of the closed shutters. She tried the handle, but it would not move.

A clicking sound behind her made her turn around. She held the candle higher and froze at the figure crouched in the opposite corner.

“Madam,” she tried again. “We do apologise. If it’s alright with you, we will leave. Please open the door.” Eliza took a protective stance in front of her sister.

“Leave, leave, leave,” the figure echoed. “No, no,” another clicking sound followed. “Little insects cannot leave once they are stuck.”

The figure moved in an unnatural way. There was no humanity in the way it swung its head toward them. Eliza recognised the woman from before. Her skin seemed even paler in the candlelight.

“Did you know,” the woman hissed, “when little insects fly into a web, it vibrates, sending a signal to its occupant that dinner is served?”

The woman slammed herself against the wall with a loud thud, pressing her ear to the surface. “Do you feel it?” she whispered, her eyes wide as her fingers caressed the wall. “It’s talking to me.”

She slowly walked alongside the wall, the side of her head still pressed against it. A sudden manic laugh escaped her as she stared into the dark.

Eliza started to shake. “Again, we are sorry.” She slowly moved backwards. “Please,” she whimpered.

“Shhh,” the woman said. “Prey does not speak. No, no.” Her eyes moved toward the two sisters.

Time seemed to slow. Lilla started crying, and Eliza stood frozen. The figure crouched down. Her arms snapped into unnatural positions, and black fangs tore through the flesh of her cheeks and snapped together. From her sides, four more legs pushed through her skin, and her eyes turned onyx black.

The creature breathed heavily as it climbed up the wall and onto the ceiling.

Lilla screamed, and Eliza pushed her backward toward the door. The doorknob still wouldn’t budge, and Eliza began kicking it.

“Eliza,” Lilla whimpered, pulling on her sleeve.

Eliza turned and stared up at the creature above her, venom dripping onto her forehead.

“You are stuck in my web now.”