October 31, 2006
563 Right st. Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

He put his hand on the doorknob. He sighed. This was the fourth time and already he was tired of it. He turned the knob and opened the door.
"TRICK-OR-TREAT!!"
The kids, every year, every All Hallows, they always came to his house, no matter how he tried to get them to go away. This year he had given up, usually he never even thought of giving out the candy, this year he ordered some in and handed it out. It was a little disconcerting for him at first, he had had to break into the library to read up on what went on on All Hallows Eve.
He shuddered and tossed a few candy bars into the bags the kids were carrying.
"Thank-you," they said. One of them piped up, "Nice costume mister!"
They left. He shut the door. He wasn't wearing a costume, but that was why he always stayed home anyway. There was no point in going out if he was always going to get funny looks. He hadn't gone out during the day for quite some time. At night, he mowed the lawn and raked the leaves, when it was needed.

Someone was knocking on the door again. He tuned back around and grabbed a handful of candy. He opened the door.
It was teenagers, wearing hooded sweatshirts.
"Give us your candy, man," they said.
He shut the door and put the candy away.
He went and sat in the living room. A few seconds later, he heard banging on the front of his house. Eggs. What did he expect? He opened the door, and now they wanted everything. When you didn't give it to them, they egged the house, or worse, there had been worse.
He sighed and got up, nothing for it. He went out front and put the candy bowl on the porch so he wouldn't have to open the door for anyone.

Someone knocked at the door. He got up again and answered the door.
"TRICK-OR-TREAT!!"
Kids, again.
He pointed to the candy bowl and closed the door.

This was frustrating him, too many people bugging him.
He went out back and grabbed a rope. He tied it, like he had been taught as a child.
Around the side of the house, no one was there, not much light either.
He went to the tree and tied the rope there, slipped his head through the loop and relaxed. It had been a long time since he had last hung in a noose.

A few minutes later, a group of children came down the walk, up to his house and started banging on the door. There was no answer, of course not; he was in the tree, not the house. They banged again.
And again.
He was frustrated, this was ridiculous.
"DOESN'T ANYTHING KEEP YOU PEOPLE AWAY!?!?!" He was shouting from the tree.
The kids turned around, looking for him. They saw him swinging from the tree and screamed, running away.

He was pacing his house the next morning, waiting for the inevitable, it had happened before. He just wondered when the police were going to show up. It was a wonder they hadn't before, he had been living in this house for the last eighty years. He paused. There, the only ornament on his walls. His death certificate.

Edward Hillcox
1752-1823
Death: hung, Denver, Colorado