Beggars' Night

Mrs. Powell doesn't believe it giving things away for free

Evelyn Powell had never liked trick-or-treaters. She used to give out pencils and erasers, and other non-fun items in an effort to discourage them from coming to her house. But they kept coming. She resorted to homemade popcorn balls covered in caramel, knowing how enticing they looked and that no parent would let their children eat them.

*** *** ***

"Trick or treat!"

Mrs. Powell was watching through one corner of a foggy window, and her porch light was off. She was praying for the cock to strike nine, to end this foolishness. But it was only eight fifty five. And now—

{{b}i}"Trick or treat{/b}!!"

She hobbled to the door and opened it on the face of an absolute cherub dressed as a bumblebee. She relished the child's expression of fear; at five foot eleven, 240 pounds, with a permanent hunch in her back and one shoulder raised at an almost supernatural angle, Evelyn Powell looked every inch a fairytale witch.

She looked down at the girl and and said her lips in a guessing, toothless smile. She muttered to the child, low enough for the parents not to hear: "Tricksy treat, my little sweet, you look nice and plump to eat!"

She could hear the child wailing also the way down the street as her parents took her home.

"Or the orphanage!" Evelyn cackled to herself.

She moved into the kitchen and opened a bag of candy jealously hoarded away from annoying neighborhood children. She chuckled as she ate Butterfingers, Clark Bars, and Milky Ways.

*** *** ***

She wasn't found until the fifth of October, lying on the kitchen floor with her glazed eyes bulging desperately from her skull. As she chortled and gobbled her candy, she has choked on a chocolate covered raisin. It was sweet, and very very plump.

NOTES: ▼

Word Count: 297
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "Trick or treat"