This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Weird-Suggestion-152 on 2024-10-07 18:34:19+00:00.

I still remember that Halloween night like it was yesterday, even though it was the fall of 1998. I was thirteen, still young enough to trick-or-treat, but old enough to know it would probably be my last year. You know, that awkward age where you’re not a kid anymore but not quite ready to let go of the things you love? Yeah, I was right there.

My best friends, Josh and Ethan, and I had made plans weeks in advance. It wasn’t just about the candy; Halloween in our town was a huge deal. Streets would be packed with children, and parents partied while kids ruled the night, running through lawns with half-assed costumes causing mischief. The houses were decorated to the max, with fake spider webs stretching across porches, jack-o’-lanterns flickering orange on every step, and skeletons hanging from trees. And the air, it had that crisp bite, just cold enough to see your breath when you exhaled, but not so cold you needed more than a sweatshirt. You could smell the damp earth, fallen leaves, the chocolate, and a little something else, that scent of plastic from store-bought costumes. Man, it was perfect.

The three of us had met up at Josh’s house as soon as dusk started to creep in. His parents were hosting one of those Halloween parties for grown-ups, the kind where they hand out apple cider to the kids and spiked cider for themselves. We had on our last-minute costumes, nothing fancy. Ethan had thrown on a scream mask, Josh was a zombie, and I was wearing a cheap Batman cape with a black hoodie.

We hit the houses on our street first, just to get things going. The wind rustled the orange and yellow leaves at our feet as we walked, and you could hear them tumble along the pavement. The sun had just about disappeared, leaving behind this deep purple hue in the sky, the last light of day slowly fading away. Porch lights flicked on, and soon we were moving through the first wave of trick-or-treaters, those little kids with their parents holding pillowcases already stuffed with candy. The sounds of giggling, the wind blowing through the trees, the occasional shriek from someone who got spooked by a fake ghoul on someone’s lawn, it felt like Halloween in its purest form.

After a few blocks, we made our way to Franklin Street. Now, Franklin wasn’t like the other streets, it had the biggest houses, old Victorians that had been there for over a century. They always went all out for Halloween, each house trying to one-up the other with elaborate decorations and bowls filled with full-sized candy bars. All of the houses on Franklin Street looked like they came straight out of a Halloween movie. All except one, the Mallow house.

Everyone in town knew about the Mallow place. It was creepy all year round, not just Halloween. The house had been built sometime in the 1800s, three stories tall with an overgrown yard that looked like it hadn’t been mowed since before I was born. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Mallow, were an older couple who never came outside. I think I saw Mr. Mallow once or twice picking up mail, but he was always gone before I could say hello.

As we got closer to Franklin, Josh nudged me. “Give you a handful of candy if you knock on the door at the Mallow place this year.”

I laughed it off. “Sike! And then what, get murdered?”

But deep down, I was feeling that familiar pull. The dare, the challenge. It wasn’t Halloween without doing something a little stupid, right?

We made our way down Franklin Street, along with all the other trick-or-treaters. There was a constant buzz of chatter and laughter as we joined the crowd moving slowly down the sidewalk. The Mallow house loomed ahead of us as we made our way closer to it, sitting completely dark. The gate at the front of the yard was open, the path leading up to the front porch covered in a layer of wet leaves. As usual, there were no decorations. No fake cobwebs, no plastic tombstones, no pumpkins. But it didn’t need scary decorations. The house was scary enough on its own.

I didn’t even have to say it aloud. We all knew it was next.

Josh and Ethan started slowing down as we got closer, and I could feel the shift in the air. The excited banter between us had faded to an awkward silence. It was that kind of house that no one really talked about, but everyone knew to just stay away. You always passed by a little quicker, maybe glanced at it out of the corner of your eye, but you never lingered. It wasn’t because it was haunted, there were no ghost stories. It was just… creepy.

People whispered about the Mallows, mostly rumors. Mr. Mallow was some kind of veteran, though no one was sure, and Mrs. Mallow was even more of a mystery. Some said she had dementia and was shut up in one of the upstairs rooms. Others swore she was dead. Either way, no one had seen her in years.

“I’m not going up there, they’re freakin’ weirdos!” Ethan said. He tried to sound casual, but I could hear the edge in his voice.

Josh kicked at the sidewalk, trying to act like he wasn’t bothered.

I glanced up at the house. A hulking Victorian with peeling paint, sagging roof, and windows that seemed too narrow, like they were squinting down at you. Every year, that house stood there, untouched by Halloween spirit, no pumpkins, no lights, nothing.

Josh, of course, wasn’t going to let it go. He had this thing about proving himself, especially if Ethan and I were around. That year, we’d spent most of our afternoons watching Faces of Death tapes in his basement, trying to outdo each other’s tolerance for gore. He’d never admit it, but this wasn’t about candy, it was about who would back down first.

He nudged me, a grin plastered on his face. “I’ll go if you go.”

My stomach knotted, but I wasn’t about to back down, not in front of them. “Fine,” I muttered, “but we’re in and out. We knock, get the candy, and leave.”

Ethan looked between us, clearly not thrilled, but he wasn’t about to be the only one to chicken out. “Let’s just make it quick,” he said. “I don’t wanna hang around this place.”

We crossed the street and made our way toward the Mallow house. The closer we got, the colder it seemed to get, as if the place had its own climate. I could feel the dampness in the air now, the earthy smell from the neglected garden mixed with the scent of old wood. Our footsteps crunched softly, and the sound seemed to disappear into the thick silence surrounding the house.

When we reached the gate, we paused. The iron bars were rusty, and the gate itself hung crooked on its hinges, like it hadn’t been opened in years. But tonight, it was ajar, just wide enough for us to slip through.

Josh, ever the brave one, was the first to step inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, the air seemed to thicken. I followed, feeling the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on me. Ethan brought up the rear, looking back over his shoulder every few seconds, as if expecting something, or someone, to jump out from behind the bushes.

The porch creaked under our weight as we climbed the steps. I could see the door now, a massive oak thing with a brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head. It looked ancient, the kind of thing that looked like it belonged in a museum. The windows were dark, covered with heavy curtains that looked like they hadn’t been opened in decades. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched from behind them.

I reached out and grabbed the knocker. I hesitated for a second, my hand hovering over the cold brass, before bringing it down with a loud thunk. The sound echoed through the house, hollow and unsettling.

We waited.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the yard, but inside the house, there was only silence.

Josh shot us a look, trying to play it cool, but I could see the tension in his jaw. “Well” he whispered. “I guess no one’s home.”

Ethan turned to leave, “sorry guys, nope, peace out.” But before he could leave, we heard it. The faint creak of floorboards, like someone shifting their weight inside.

We froze. Another creak, closer this time. Then, the soft click of the lock being turned.

The door opened slowly, inch by inch, until it revealed a narrow gap. No light came from inside, just darkness so thick it felt like it could swallow us whole.

And then, a voice. Low, raspy.

“Come in.”

I glanced at Josh, expecting him to make some stupid joke and bolt, but his face had gone pale. Ethan took a step back, muttering under his breath. “Hell no, man. No way.”

But before any of us could move, the door opened wider.

Standing there in the doorway was Mr. Mallow. He looked even older than I expected, more skeletal. His skin was waxy, stretched tight over his bones, and his eyes… you couldn’t see them. They looked hollow, empty, shadows casted around them like two black holes. He didn’t smile, didn’t offer any kind of greeting, just stood there, staring at us.

His clothes were dirty, stained in patches I couldn’t identify, and his hands… his hands were covered in something dark, like oil. My stomach turned as I tried to make sense of it all.

“Trick… or treat,” Josh said weakly, his voice cracking.

Mr. Mallow’s gaze flicked down to Josh, then back to me, and finally to Ethan. His lips twitched, like he was trying to smile but had forgotten how. Slowly, he raised one hand, motioning for us to come inside.

“You boys are just in time,” he rasped. “We’ve been waiting.”

I felt something cold ru…

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1fyeymr/what_i_saw_on_halloween_in_1998_still_haunts_me/