The Ghost Who Rang Twice — Every Halloween, Quincy counted porch steps before climbing them: one for quiet, two for creaky, three for maybe-no-thank-you. Read the full story →
Every Halloween, Quincy counted porch steps before climbing them: one for quiet, two for creaky, three for maybe-no-thank-you. He liked the soft swish of his sheet costume and the sweet smell of chocolate in his pumpkin pail, but the big house on Spruce Street had laughing windows, flapping ghosts, and a banner that rattled like teeth.
Until one day, a real ghost popped from the hedge and sneezed glitter. “I can’t ring doorbells,” she whispered. “My finger goes through.” Because of that, Quincy’s vampire and witch friends dared him to try the door with the pumpkin wreath. Because of that, the whole porch suddenly went silent, even the paper bats.
Quincy’s hand shook. Ding-dong! The door flew open, and a bowl on springy legs bounced out, tossing candy into every bucket. The ghost whooped so hard the window faces grinned wider. Next time you spot Quincy’s tiny ghost pail, listen for the rattle like teeth.
