It was a cold, clear night and Imogen watched as the kids hurried along, blowing out cold breaths in the air and laughing at the clouds of vapour, pretending they were smoking. The streets were busy, children spilling into the road, parents keeping them from being run over, trying to work out in the dark which were their charges for the night from the assortment of mini ghosts and ghouls that covered the ground like worker ants. Many of the houses were decorated and the younger children stopped wide-eyed at the skeletons hanging from gate posts, the giant spiders in gardens, unsure of whether to approach. But the lure of the lit pumpkin won out in the end; the promise of sweets was enough to persuade even the most timid child to brave the gauntlet of the front path.
Imogen’s group were already racing ahead, knocking on the first door, holding their buckets and bags, plunging their hands into the offered bowl of sweets.
Then the kids moved on, disappearing into the shadows and Imogen quickly followed, trying to keep sight of a Scream ghost mask and a clown amongst the dozens of other children that seemed to have swarmed down this end of the street. Then she saw them, hurrying up another path with a lit pumpkin outside the front door. She smiled. They were working their way methodically through every property that had a pumpkin outside. As long as she did the same she wouldn’t lose them.