It's late when she returns, the bounty hanging heavy from her hand. But I've not come for that. I've come for her.

​

Her eyes, glitter smeared, glide past the shadows where I lurk as she scrambles to remove those unusual shoes. I smell hints of blood where a blister burst, and I lick my fangs, sensing her weakness. Stay! Patience!

​

She pads, barefooted, to the kitchen. My bat-like ears swivel to hear what I cannot see. A bowl clatters to the floor. I swoop down the hallway, ready to feast, when I'm met by a scattering of pumpkin seeds. So many! How many? Before I can count, an intoxicating, savory smell diverts me - garlic salt!

​

I recoil then realize she's gone. Scurrying is beneath my breed, but I do, chasing her scent through the kitchen, up the stairs, right to her bedroom's threshold.

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She tenses, surprised, but her shoulders float down as she says, "Come in."

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Emptying her bag on the rug, she smiles - until she sees my expression. I summon a long, mournful moan, willing her to pity my plight.

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"Aw, Bandit, you can't eat candy. C'mon, I'll get you a biscuit."

​

Triumph - trick AND treat!