The Last House at the End of the Street - SCP Foundation

The setting sun cast a warm, orange hue over the streets of suburban America as a small figure joyfully skipped down the sidewalk. Tonight was his night: as it had always been and always would be. He was dressed to impress — covered in a pristine white sheet with two perfectly cut circles allowing him to see. He kept the handle of a neon orange pail clasped tightly in his hand as he began his ritual for the evening.

He walked — no, ran up to the first house he saw. He frowned under his sheet when he saw how empty the yard was. Didn't these people know it was the 31st? Not even a single plastic spider! No matter. He shook the disappointment from his mind as he reached the door. He raised a tiny fist and knocked exactly three times, then stepped back and held his pail out in front of him. He made sure to turn its grinning jack-o-lantern face towards the door— this was very important after all! He waited at the door, grinning ear-to-ear just imagining what delights the people here must have for him! He waited… and waited…

Eventually it was clear: no one was coming. He frowned under his sheet and walked back to the sidewalk.

A nice, chilly breeze stirred up fallen leaves around his feet and brought him out of his melancholy. He held out an arm and giggled as the leaves swirled and danced around him in the wind. They rose in a gentle rhythm, from his feet all the way up around his head. He started to move about with them, trying as best as he could to match their motions. He found himself spinning in circles with glee for several minutes. Only after almost falling on his sheet-covered rear did he finally stop. He continued to giggle as he began skipping along his way once more.

There had always been people who didn't participate, after all. There were always people who kept the lights off, kept their yards bare, and kept their treats to themselves. It didn't stop stinging whenever he found one of the killjoys, but there was no need to wallow in it.

The sun had sunk further below the horizon. The orange hue had darkened, shades of early evening blue beginning to creep into the landscape. Normally, the streets were full of people. There would be children and parents alike dressed in their ghoulish fineries going from house to house in search of something sweet, but as he looked around he couldn't help but notice how quiet it was. He did get an early start, for what it was worth!

But it was strange that the streets were so… lifeless right now.

Maybe everyone just wanted to get a late start? That made sense. Nighttime was always more fun anyway!

He walked up to the next house on the street. It wasn't particularly decorated, but there were at least a few pumpkins out front. Regardless, he couldn't stop himself from letting out a small "tsk" as he assessed them. They weren't even carved! Still, he supposed it was better than nothing at all. Besides, in the end, all that truly mattered was the prize they had to offer him. He raised his tiny fist to the door and knocked three times, stepping away and presenting his pail towards the door.

It was a shame the other house didn't get to see his costume and his pail. It was a great costume, and his pail? Trusty as ever, it had served him for years! At least these people were sure to appreciate it. They would tell their neighbors about him after this was over, for sure, and they'd be kicking themselves because they had missed him. He stood there and waited with glee just imagining it all.

And once again he found himself left waiting. The frown returned as he walked back towards the sidewalk, his pail and heart left empty.

By now the sun had begun to sink properly below the horizon. He had lost a lot of valuable time, sure, but this was good news! Twilight makes it easier to distinguish the killjoys from those who actually participate. All it would take from here was simply looking for the houses with their lights still on. Those were the ones who actually had an offering for him. He could just avoid the houses that made it clear they had no intention of participating, and he could stop wasting his time!

Hope twinkled in his eyes as he waited for the sun to finish setting. It was going to be such a good night this year. Last year it had been weirdly warm, and the year before that there had been that nasty storm. But this year everything was lining up just as it should, with beautiful crisp air that refreshed the soul without being too cold. He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs. He was alive.

The sun finished setting. He stared at the brilliant moon overhead in all its fullness, framed by an endless sky of twinkling stars. He smiled as he turned his gaze back over the neighborhood, only to feel that smile sink as he took in the sight. Darkness all around, with only the occasional porch light to break it up. He clutched his pail as he took hesitant, careful steps forward to get a better look.

It was no good. House after house was dark, with almost universally empty yards. The few that were actually decorated felt more decorated for a generic "fall" than anything whimsical or spooky. There might be a hay bale, a fistful of uncarved pumpkins, or perhaps even a scarecrow with a friendly cartoon smile on its face, but nothing that felt like it was for his holiday. Suddenly his soul felt very heavy. How could such a thing be possible? This was tradition, didn't this matter to people?

Didn't he matter to people?

A new sensation began to fill his soul as he fell down into the grass. He had always been able to imagine "tomorrow", in an abstract way. The future had never scared him, if he ever gave it a thought at all it was never for very long. Now, however, the tingling had begun. He looked at the tips of his fingers, watching as they began to fizzle slightly. Suddenly he had a name for the sensation he felt.

Dread. A pervasive sense of dread that creeped into every crevice of his soul, chased with the relentless pounding of his heart.

He was going to die.

Every day ends eventually, and this one would end with him fading away into nothing. Everything he is, everything he ever was, and everything he ever could've been — vanishing in a moment. There would be no tomorrow for him. He would be gone. He clutched his knees against his chest and began to sob.

He wasn't ready.

Would he ever be?

Could he ever be?

As a cacophony of thought pounded in his brain he reached out for something, anything to ground himself once more. As if by instinct, his tiny hand wrapped itself around his still empty pail. Feeling the cool plastic against his skin, he felt his racing heart slow, if only a little. He opened his eyes and regarded it.

It wasn't much, but it was his treasure. A simple pail, crafted from neon plastic and painted with the bright, grinning face of a jack-o-lantern on the front that had partially chipped away over the years. He felt the grass beneath his other hand. It was slightly damp, likely from a sprinkler that had run over it earlier. He lifted his hand and felt his costume. A simple bedsheet, nothing special, but it made him into the perfect little ghost. He could see the slightly frayed edges of the circles that let him see out in the first place, with little strings that were left hanging around the edges of his vision.

He took a deep breath, and rose to unsteady feet. He clutched his pail close to his chest and took a step forward, and then another.

Maybe there wouldn't be a tomorrow. Even so, he still had tonight. Arcadia may be calling, but if he spent the rest of his life afraid then he wouldn't have much of a life left to enjoy. His heart settled down just a bit more as he continued walking forward.

The fear would likely never go away, but he could try to quiet it, if only for a moment. He chose to hear the leaves crunch beneath his feet. He chose to feel the wind against his bedsheet. He chose to hear the call of a distant bird.

The moon hung high in the sky now. Even on the most boisterous of nights past, people would start heading home by now. Even the most dedicated of celebrants would begin turning their lights off by now. He was almost ready to join them. After all, he felt so very tired.

Before he was finally ready to give in, however, he saw it. At the end of the street, nestled into a cul-de-sac, was the most beautiful house he had ever seen. The yard was filled with spooky joy— massive skeletons surrounded by carved pumpkins with all kinds of twisted expressions. Foam gravestones against the sidewalk, even colorful inflatables! Suddenly his soul felt light, and before he knew it he was running towards this beacon of celebration.

He ran — no, flew up to the house's doorstep. The lights were on. The lights were on! He took a deep breath as he raised a tiny fist and knocked exactly three times, then stepped back and held out his pail in front of him. Within moments he was greeted by two people. There was an older woman with shock-white hair dressed as a witch, towering hat and all. Next to her was an older man. He wasn't dressed as anything in particular, but in his arms he held a massive bowl filled with sweet tributes.

For the first time, he was able to hold out his pail towards them and say the magic words. They danced out his throat and down his tongue before leaping into the air.

"Trick or treat!"

The older woman smiled. "Oh how darling!" she said, her voice sweet and sincere, "What a wonderful little ghost you are! Did you make that costume yourself?"

He nodded his head vigorously. His smile was so wide at this point he was almost certain she could make it out even behind the bedsheet.

"Well it's just delightful! You did such a good job with it!" She flashed him a bright smile before turning to the man beside her, who held out the bowl.

"You know," she continued, "normally we have a one piece per person rule, but it's been so quiet tonight. You can take a few, if you'd like, as long as you promise not to eat it all in one sitting and rot your teeth!"

She winked. He giggled as he took a handful.

"Happy Halloween! Don't stay up too late, it's a school day tomorrow after all!"

He waved as he skipped off. Finding a spot away from the neighborhood to stop, he removed his bedsheet so that he might assess his tribute. The moon glistened off his orange, pumpkin head as he looked down at the various candies in his beloved pail. A new jack-o-lantern grin was carved into his face as he regarded the pail's contents. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

With a smile and a nod, he skipped off into the night. He had to get ready for next year, after all.