A One-Way Ticket to Halloween
The bus stop was nearly empty, except for a mother and her son, standing under the dim yellow glow of the streetlight. The woman held onto her son's hand tightly, her eyes tired but still filled with warmth. The boy, Ozen, stood silently, his gaze fixed on the dark road ahead.
They had lost everything.
Their house. Their wealth. Their security.
After the betrayal and murder of Ozen's father, his uncle and aunt had taken everything, leaving him and his mother with nothing. Now, they had no choice but to leave the city and move to the only place left for them—Halloween, a small town on the outskirts of glass City, where his grandfather lived.
The bus finally arrived, its brakes hissing like an old beast groaning from exhaustion. The doors creaked open, and the bus driver, a scruffy man with tired eyes, looked at them.
"Where to?"
The mother smiled softly. "Halloween."
The bus driver blinked, then grinned as if he had heard the funniest joke. "Ohh-ho-ho! Halloween!" he said in a dramatic, overly spooky voice, wiggling his fingers for effect. "Scary place, that one."
Ozen sighed. Great. Just great.
Ignoring the driver's theatrics, they stepped onto the bus and took a seat. As the bus rumbled forward, Ozen stared out the window. His mother gently squeezed his hand.
"Everything will be fine, Ozen," she reassured him, her voice soft but firm.
He didn't respond.
Because deep down… he wasn't sure if she was right.
Welcome to Halloween
The ride felt like an eternity, but eventually, the bus slowed to a stop. The doors hissed open, and the driver called out, once again in a ridiculous haunted-house voice—
"Weeelcome to Haaaalloooweeeen!"
Ozen groaned internally.
Stepping off the bus, the first thing he noticed was how rundown the town looked. Cracked pavement, flickering streetlights, and old buildings that seemed to lean over the narrow streets, whispering secrets to each other.
His mother frowned. "Where's Grandpa? He was supposed to meet us…"
"I am right here."
Both mother and son jumped as a deep, cold voice spoke directly behind them.
Ozen whipped around, his heart hammering, only to see an old man with a permanent scowl, standing uncomfortably close.
"Dad!" His mother exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest. "You scared us!"
"Hmph." The old man—Grandpa—didn't seem sorry at all.
"Couldn't you at least announce yourself properly?" she scolded, her tone shifting from startled to exasperated. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
The tense atmosphere suddenly lightened, and for a brief moment, they all forgot the pain of what they had lost.
Grandpa let out a small grunt, then, without another word, casually grabbed one of his daughter's bags and turned away. But just as they were about to follow him, he paused.
For the first time since they arrived, he turned to look at them—not with his usual cold expression, but with a flicker of warmth.
"You've been through a lot," he said gruffly. "You're strong. Both of you. You'll be fine."
Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the fatherly warmth vanished.
"Now, let's go."
And with that, he walked ahead, leading them deeper into Halloween.
A Strange Feeling
The walk to Grandpa's house was quiet. The town was too still, as if holding its breath. Ozen felt a strange sensation—like something was calling out to him from the distance.
He shook it off. It was probably just his imagination.
Over the next few days, Ozen started adjusting to his new life. He made a few new friends—kids from the neighborhood who were excited to have someone new to hang out with. It wasn't home, but it was… something.
Then, as the days passed, something else crept up on them.
Halloween was just around the corner.
Trick or Treat… and Something More
The night of Halloween arrived in full force. The town transformed, covered in decorations—pumpkin lanterns, fake cobwebs, and eerie scarecrows standing at every corner.
With their parents' permission, Ozen and his new friends went trick-or-treating, running from house to house with bags in hand. Laughter filled the air as children in costumes darted through the streets.
But as the night wore on, Ozen felt something.
The intensity of the air had changed.
Something was different.
Then, he noticed it—the temple at the edge of town.
It loomed in the darkness, partially hidden behind twisted trees. The windows glowed faintly, and eerie pumpkin carvings covered its walls.
"What's that place?" Ozen asked.
His friends immediately tensed up.
"That's the old temple," one boy said in a hushed voice. "They say it's haunted."
"More than haunted," another added. "They say it holds a real demon inside."
"I don't believe in demons," a third friend scoffed. "And even if they're real, I don't want to find out."
"They're just stories," another boy shrugged. "Adults make them up to scare kids."
Ozen stared at the temple. His chest felt tight.
He should have walked away. He should have ignored it.
But curiosity got the better of him.
That night, as he slept, the energy intensified.
It was as if something took control of him.
A Contract in the Dark
His eyes snapped open.
Without thinking, he rose from his bed and walked out into the cold night. His feet moved on their own, drawn by an invisible force.
The temple doors creaked open as he stepped inside. The air was thick with unseen power, the pumpkin carvings on the walls seeming to shift under the candlelight.
Then, his gaze locked onto something.
A black contraption sat in the center of the room. An orb, surrounded by ancient symbols, pulsed like a heartbeat.
His fingers twitched.
He touched it.
BOOM.
A wave of darkness exploded outward, shaking the temple. The carvings lit up with fire, the walls shifting and warping. Ozen gasped, his body lifted off the ground as black energy wrapped around him.
A voice—deep, amuse
d, and terrifying—whispered into his mind.
"Ah… so it's you this time."
The shadows swirled, forming a shape. A floating figure stepped forward, its head a flaming pumpkin, its suit as black as the void. The very air trembled with its presence.
The demon grinned.
"Yo, kid. Guess what? You just made a contract with me."
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