After a long business trip, I was looking forward to enjoying Halloween night at home. However, when I returned to my quiet street, I noticed something strange across the way, revealing that Halloween had one final surprise for me.
Halloween is my one true love. While some people are passionate about Christmas or Easter, for me, Halloween is pure magic. At 32, recently divorced and without kids, my job keeps me busy, leaving little time for hobbies.
Halloween is my thing. Every year, I go all out with graveyard scenes, life-sized skeletons, lights, fog machines—you name it. I start planning in August, making sure every detail is perfect to turn my house into the spookiest one on the block.
For years, it’s been a success. The “Haunted House on Thatcher Street” has become a local legend. Neighbors even tell their friends to drive by on Halloween night to see it, and I love that. It feels great to create something that lets people relive their childhood excitement, even if just for one night.
This year, though, life threw me a curveball. Right before Halloween, my boss told me I had to fly to Boston the next day for a last-minute business trip. I was shocked—Halloween was just a week away!
But there was no getting out of it. I took one last look at my front yard, which I had transformed into a haunted graveyard with a giant spiderweb, spooky inflatables, and carefully placed lights. Then I flew out, planning to return on November 1. At least the neighbors would still get to enjoy it.
But fate had other plans. After a scheduling miracle, I ended up coming home early, landing just in time for Halloween afternoon. I was thrilled, imagining myself handing out candy to kids in costumes.
When I got home, though, something felt off. My house looked completely bare.
Then I looked across the street and saw it: my skeletons, my tombstones, my inflatable pumpkin. And right in the middle of my neighbor’s yard was my 8-foot spider, staring back at me.
I took a deep breath, clenched my fists, and reminded myself to stay calm. It was Halloween night, kids were running up and down the street, and the last thing I wanted was to cause a scene. But the nerve… all my decorations, right there on her lawn.
As the sun dipped lower, the orange glow of my lights flickered from her front yard, casting eerie shadows over her house. It felt surreal, like I was seeing some twisted, alternate version of reality.
Every now and then, I peeked out the window to see the scene across the street—her house, covered in my decorations, with kids running up to her door and parents complimenting her on the spooky setup.
I ground my teeth, imagining myself knocking on her door in front of everyone, just to give her a piece of my mind. But no. I had to be smarter than that.
Finally, around midnight, the street started to quiet down. Halloween was winding down; the decorations dimmed, porch lights went off, and parents gathered their kids to head home.
My neighbor’s house went dark, too, and I watched as the last group of visitors left, waving and chatting as they walked down the street.
This was it. It was time.
I couldn’t wait until morning. There was no way I’d sleep with the image of my decorations all over her yard. So, I grabbed my keys, threw on my jacket, and headed straight to the all-night convenience store.
Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed overhead as I stood in front of the paint aisle, scanning the cans until I found exactly what I was looking for.
I picked up a vivid, angry red paint, perfect for making a statement, and a sleek, glossy black paint. I grabbed a few cans of each and headed to the checkout, where the bored cashier barely glanced at me as I paid.
Back on my street, it was quiet—almost eerie, with a chill breeze rustling the trees and a few leftover jack-o’-lanterns grinning emptily from porches. I took one last look around to make sure no one was watching, then slipped across the street to her yard.
My heart pounded as I approached her white fence. The cool metal of the spray can in my hand felt electric. I took a deep breath, looked over my shoulder one last time, and shook the can.
With a firm press of my finger, the nozzle hissed, releasing a burst of red paint. I started slow, careful, watching as the letters took shape, each one growing bolder and louder on her pristine white fence:
“I STEAL MY NEIGHBOR’S DECORATIONS TO WIN A PRIZE FOR THE BEST DECORATED HOUSE!”
I grinned, feeling a surge of satisfaction. It was bold, just like her move, and every letter felt like a cathartic release, a little piece of my frustration spilling out in bright red paint.
I even added some dramatic dripping lines for effect, making it look like the words were bleeding down her fence.
The whole time, I kept an ear out, hoping no lights would suddenly flick on. As I dotted the final exclamation point, the satisfying hiss of the paint faded, leaving only the soft sounds of the wind in the trees and my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
But just as I turned to admire my work, a light flicked on inside her house.
My stomach dropped, and I ducked, clutching the paint can close as I watched her silhouette appear in the window. I held my breath, waiting, but she didn’t look outside.
Instead, I saw her shuffle toward the kitchen, then disappear from view. I let out a shaky breath. I’d been mere seconds away from getting caught.
Gathering my nerve, I crept back through her yard, clutching my bag of spray paint. I couldn’t resist glancing at my work one last time before heading back across the street. Her fence looked ridiculous, and the best part? She’d have no choice but to confront it.
The next morning, I watched from my window, sipping my coffee, feeling the sweet sting of justice. There, right in front of Sandra’s house, my bold, bright-red message still gleamed across her white fence. She hadn’t even tried to cover it up. And with the paint I’d used, scrubbing it off wouldn’t be easy.
Just as I was basking in the sight, a small group of judges from the neighborhood council began strolling down our street. Clipboards in hand, their eyes scanned each house as they judged the Halloween decorations.
I felt a flash of nerves—would they see the humor in my act, or would they think I’d crossed a line? But one look at Sandra’s bare yard, stripped of any of her own effort, and I knew I’d made my point.
The judges stopped in front of her house, and I saw the confusion spread across their faces. They stared, wide-eyed, at the red letters on her fence, then exchanged hushed whispers.
One of the judges actually snorted, barely covering a laugh with his hand. Sandra, watching from her window, paled as she saw them reading the message. She threw me a horrified glance, but I simply raised my mug in a little wave, giving her the sweetest smile I could muster.
It didn’t take long for the group to move on to my place. I heard one of them mumble, “She really did steal them?” to another, who chuckled and nodded as they took in my yard, still a little bare after my decorations had been… borrowed.
As the judges took notes, one of them, a sweet lady named Mrs. Delaney, walked over to me. “I have to say, your dedication to Halloween is remarkable. Sandra’s decorations were lovely—until we learned they were yours!” She chuckled, a knowing twinkle in her eye.
I grinned, feigning innocence. “Oh, well, Halloween means a lot to me. I go all out every year. You know, I just wanted to give the neighborhood something spooky and memorable.”
Mrs. Delaney’s smile grew wider. “Well, you’ve certainly given us something memorable, dear. I think it’s safe to say you’ve earned the title of Best Decorated House this year.” She winked. “Sandra’s fence really… added something, didn’t it?”
I nodded, holding back laughter. “I suppose you could say it was a collaborative effort.”
Just then, Sandra stormed out of her house, red-faced and furious. “This is absurd!” she shouted, pointing an accusing finger in my direction. “She vandalized my property!”
One of the judges turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “So, did you actually take her decorations?”
Sandra opened her mouth, but nothing came out. After a moment, she folded her arms, glaring daggers at me. “I thought she wouldn’t mind,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.
“Well, it seems you’ve learned a little lesson about asking permission,” Mrs. Delaney said firmly, raising an eyebrow. “And we’re awarding the prize to the rightful owner of those decorations.” She turned back to me and gave a nod of approval.
Sandra stomped her foot, but the group had already moved on. She shot me one last look, her face livid, as the judges continued down the block.
I just shrugged, holding back a smile. “Happy Halloween, Sandra.”
And with that, I turned back to my house, savoring every sweet second.
If you liked this article, here’s another one you might enjoy: “My neighbors threw their rotten Halloween decorations in my yard so I would take them away – but I taught them a lesson.” Click here to read the full story.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided as “is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
