It started as a simple babysitting job. With flyers around town for local haunted houses, I knew I had to get some cash fast or I would be doomed, forever confined to the couch. Timothy Morris, the 2-year-old little boy who lived just down the street, was my only customer so far. It was a start.
The job was only for three hours. Start at 6, feed and bathe him, then off to bed by 8, leaving me with an hour for myself. It seemed that the storm would be the biggest worry of the night.
I had just put Timothy to sleep when I got downstairs and noticed a miniature pumpkin on the banister. When I first arrived at the house, I saw that the family didn’t have any décor out for Halloween yet. When I asked Mrs. Morris, she replied, “Oh, we’ve just been so busy, we haven’t even had time to think about Halloween, much less worry about all those decorations!”
It wasn’t until I picked the gourd up that I noticed the five gashes and the pocketknife that had been jabbed into it. I looked down and saw that the pumpkin innards were not only covering the pumpkin itself, but had left my hands sticky as well.
I yanked out the knife and went to the kitchen to wash everything off. Just as I reached for the faucet, lightning struck and the entire house went black.
I laid the pumpkin and the knife down and started toward the utility room. I had only been around the whole house once or twice, but I made sure to make note of where supplies were, just in case.
I managed to find the cabinets on the wall and open one of them. Feeling around, I finally found a light. I looked at my watch: 8:40. His parents will be here soon, I thought to myself.
Thunder growled in the distance. I remembered the pumpkin and went into the kitchen. The pocketknife I had left on the counter had vanished.
My first thought was Timothy. I raced up the stairs to his bedroom. He lay peacefully asleep in his bed. If he hadn’t gotten the knife, then where did it go? As I stood in the bedroom, I suddenly heard footsteps from the staircase. I ran to the window to see if the Morrises were home yet. Their car was nowhere in sight.
I ran to the bed, grabbed Timothy, and ducked for his closet. I jerked my hand around his mouth and begin to pray that we could stay hidden long enough for someone to find us. Suddenly, the footsteps entered his room and stopped right in front of the door. From the slits in the closet, I could see dark eyes – eyes that were staring right back at me.
I knew this was the end.