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One Halloween night, a 9-year old me did 

something that every kid does on Halloween: 

I went trick-or-treating. My mom and I went 

walking around the neighborhood wearing my 

cute witch costume. We went to every single 

house but save the best house for last.

You see, my neighbor and close family friend, 

Steve, always had the best candy and gave out 

the most candy unlike the other neighbors. My 

mom told me to go on and ring the door bell 

by myself and she'll wait in the parking lot. I 

rang the door bell but nobody answered right 

away. Minutes passed when I rang the door 

bell again, then suddenly a slight crack of the 

door open. I joked, "Very funny Mr. Steve, can 

I just have my candy?" "Mr. Steve," which is 

what I like to called him, always try to wear 

something "terrifying" but turns out as cute 

and maybe a little scary. 

Then, suddenly, the door swung open, which I 

responded by taking a step back. Then all I 

saw was a ferocious face, dripping fake blood 

and was wearing the darkest black costume. 

Do you know the cliche "screamed like a little 

girl?" Well, nobody was proving that cliche 

more than me that night. I ran like a coyote to 

my mother's arms. In my amazement, my 

mom was giggling. " Mom?! Why are you 

laughing?! Mr. Steve just traumatized me for 

life!", I yelled. "Relax, Claudia, it was just a 

joke! It's Halloween," said Steve, with his 

mask off. "That wasn't cool, Mr. Steve!" I 

dragged my mom out of his property and went 

home.   

I was so angry and frightened that I didn't 

went to his house for 2 years. Then my mom 

said I had to get over it and start talking to Mr. 

Steve again. I realized that Mr. Steve is a nice 

guy and I do miss his hilarious jokes. So, I 

made nice with him one afternoon and he 

apologized for extremely scaring me. But I 

apologized for taking it so seriously. 

Forgiveness or not, it was one of the most 

memorable but traumatizing experiences of my 

life.

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