Dropping the last newspaper in his bag at Thomas’s house, Lester noticed there were no cars in the driveway or lights on inside. He wondered what kind of work Thomas’s parents did that had them up and out so early.

His deliveries done, Lester took his time heading home, admiring the Halloween decorations on display throughout the village. Plastic ghouls, ghosts, and mummies peaked out from bushes and lurked on lawns. Front walks and doorways were festooned with pumpkins, dried corn stalks, and the occasional skeleton.

The life-size witch attached to the top of the fire department’s garage, making her look as though she were riding her broom off into the sky, made Lester think of Salem and Mathis. Maybe his brother had been right to leave this all behind. But even with The Council, the secret war between The Light and The Dark, and whatever role his family was playing in it, Lester couldn’t deny the warm feelings. He liked his hometown. Halloween was the perfect example of why. For one night, the residents of Giles Hollow would suspend reality for a few hours. Working together, they’d create a world with a bit of magic, delighting children innocent enough to still believe.

Tomorrow, the decorations would be gone. The first of November always seemed to come too soon and with it a strong sense of foreboding. There would be a mad rush to get the rest of the firewood stacked, retrieve dusty snow shovels from basements, and a general hunkering-down for the long winter ahead.

Lester breathed deep. The smell of autumn was in the crisp air, an earthy, ripe fragrance that only appeared for a few weeks this time of year. He steered his bike through a pile of red and orange leaves, scattering them upward into a colorful cloud that fell behind him. Maybe he, too, could let this all go, but for days like today, that he wished would last forever.

By the time he got home the only person left in the house was Bernard, who meandered into the kitchen as Lester settled at the table to eat. His brother was dressed in what had become his uniform lately, gray pants and a collared shirt with a v-neck sweater, both black to match his mood.

They hadn’t seen one another in several days, other than the occasional passing in the hallways at school, where Bernard did his best to pretend they weren’t related.

“Morning,” Lester said while mixing a spoonful of salsa into his eggs.

Bernard sat down, poured himself some cereal, and opened the newspaper.

“Are you excited for Halloween?” asked Lester, refusing to be ignored. “You could go as an undertaker this year. You wouldn’t even have to change.”

“Halloween’s for kids,” his brother said flatly.

“Oh, my mistake,” said Lester. “I should have realized you’d already decided to go as an insufferable bore. One who thinks he’s an adult because he turned thirteen.”

Bernard grunted, turned the page of his paper, and crunched on a mouthful of cereal.

Giving up, Lester went back to eating his breakfast in silence. While it was certainly easier to swallow eggs without an arm around his neck, this new version of Bernard unnerved him. It wasn’t that Lester enjoyed his brother making his life miserable — he didn’t. Still, it was better than the melancholy person sitting beside him, who seemed to have taken an abrupt sideways step out of childhood.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

In past years, Bernard and his friends began gathering eggs several weeks before Halloween, hiding them under an old tarp in the back of the North’s garden shed. The morning after the holiday, dozens of buildings in town would be covered in stinking yellow goo, and the branches of any nearby trees liberally draped in toilet paper. Certain teachers’ houses got hit particularly hard. Lester had always known about his brother’s hiding place, but to avoid becoming a target himself, he had been careful never to mention it. This year, the tarp in the shed had remained neatly folded on its shelf.

“So, what are you doing for Halloween?” Lester asked, no longer feeling like needling his brother.

“Will you shut up about tonight!” Bernard suddenly shouted. He shot out of his chair and slammed his fist on the table, making the eggs on Lester’s plate jump. “You think you’re so smart. Why? Because you’re better at school than me? Enjoy being good at your precious tests, little brother. Once it’s over, you’ll have to face the real world. Then let’s see where your cleverness gets you.”

Lester watched in stunned silence as Bernard turned and stormed out of the kitchen. A minute later, he heard the front door slam, and the house went quiet once more.

As he washed their breakfast dishes, Lester felt bad about upsetting his brother. He wondered if part of him had meant to do it. The two of them had never been as close as he and Mathis. Still, underneath their antagonistic relationship, there was an odd comfort. Lester could always count on Bernard’s torment as a consistent reminder that some things would never change no matter how unwieldy life might become. Now that it was gone, he found he missed it more than he’d ever imagined he would. Perhaps, he thought, that was part of what it meant to be brothers.

Lester spent the rest of the day locked in his room, putting the finishing touches on his costume. He’d always been a strict traditionalist when it came to Halloween, opting for classics like vampires, scarecrows, and ghosts. But this year, he, Amanda, and Mae had decided to dress together. They were going as rock-paper-scissors, the classic kid’s game of hand signals used to solve all minor disagreements. Lester was rock. It wasn’t particularly scary, but he’d had enough frights recently. A bit of humor seemed in order.

Lester had found a pair of painter’s coveralls in the basement. Using a hot glue gun, and about three dozen glue sticks he had painstakingly attached golfball-sized rocks to every inch of its surface. It was so heavy that when he put it on, he had trouble reaching down for the candy bag he’d made to resemble a boulder, but it looked great.

The plan was to meet by the school at dusk. Then, following a detailed route mapped out by Amanda, they would hit every house within a one-mile radius. After that, they would sneak down to the library basement to trade and eat candy. This last part had been Mae’s idea. Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Chase did not do sugar. Instead, they insisted that Mae leave all of her Halloween candy out for The Great Pumpkin. In the morning, she would wake to find in its place some new books, a sweater, or something else equally inedible. Like most well-meaning but misguided attempts by parents to alter the time-worn traditions of childhood, this had backfired miserably. Mae simply ate most of her candy before going home to hand it over, consuming way more than she would normally have.

The night was unusually balmy as Lester stomped out of his house, like some sort of rock creature, to make his way to the rendezvous point. He was halfway across the soccer field, thinking how light and airy a white sheet with two eyeholes cut into it would be, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.