Page 27 of Trick or Stalk

Grandma believed there was no such thing as too much Christmas.

Grandpa disagreed.

Which meant she decorated more.

I step around an old rocking chair and find another row of boxes.

EASTER.

THANKSGIVING.

“There you are.”

HALLOWEEN.

HALLOWEEN.

OUTDOOR HALLOWEEN.

I crouch beside the boxes.

Grandma’s handwriting stretches across the top in thick black marker.

My fingers reverently trace the letters.

She wrote that.

She stood exactly where I’m standing and packed these decorations away, assuming she’d be here to unpack them again.

My throat burns.

I close my eyes.

“Damn it,” I whisper.

Penny whines softly from the stairs.

“I’m okay.” The lie comes automatically.

I open the box. Orange tissue paper covers the top. Beneath it sits a ceramic jack-o’-lantern with a crooked smile.

I laugh through the ache in my chest. “Oh my God. Grandma loved this ugly thing.”

She put it on the fireplace mantel every October even though one eye was chipped and Grandpa repeatedly threatened to throw it away.

He never did, though.

Because she loved it.

I lift it carefully.

“I guess you’re staying.”

Penny finally climbs the rest of the stairs.

“That’s brave of you.”

She trots over and sniffs the pumpkin.