The internet moved on.
The news found a new story.
But Karen remained.
And she learned something.
She learned that people become tired before they become brave.
The Next Halloween
The following September, the new rules arrived.
Official Trick-or-Treat Hours:
5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m.
No porch activity after seven.
No amplified sound after 6:30.
No fog machines.
No driveway candy stations.
No jump scares.
No realistic weapons.
No masks for residents over twelve unless accompanying a child.
No gatherings larger than eight people without prior approval.
Security at entrances.
Candy only from front doors.
Commercially wrapped candy only.
And one final rule:
No homemade caramel apples.
Mrs. Bell cried when she read that.
She had made caramel apples for twenty-seven years.
Karen called it a food safety issue.
That year, parents were quieter.
Some drove their children to other neighborhoods.
Some obeyed because they were tired.
Some stopped decorating entirely.
At seven, Karen walked down Briar Hollow Lane with two guards behind her.
No whistle this time.
She didn't need one.
The silence had already been trained into everyone.
Noah was eight.
He wore a wizard costume.
At 6:55, he looked at his half-full bucket.
“Can we go to one more house?”
Rachel looked down the street.
Karen was approaching.