The writer moved to a new town for a fresh start, but their neighbor, Catherine, quickly ruined things by constantly complaining and even stealing Halloween decorations. Determined to catch her and get revenge, the writer set up a camera. However, what they discovered was much more shocking than they ever anticipated.
The writer had just finished decorating their new house for Halloween, feeling proud of the festive setup. The yard was adorned with orange pumpkins, spider webs, and cute ghosts, creating a welcoming atmosphere for the trick-or-treaters expected to come by.
The writer initially felt good about settling into their new town, enjoying their job, cozy home, and the town’s charm—except for the neighbors. From the start, the neighbors seemed to be against them, making comments about parking and criticizing how they maintained their yard. Even small gestures like saying “hi” were met with disapproving glances. The hostility quickly escalated, culminating in the neighbors calling the police one evening because the writer had music playing at 7 p.m., which left them in disbelief.
The writer’s most difficult neighbor was Catherine, who lived across the street and was relentless in her complaints. Catherine even went so far as to steal the writer’s flowerpots, claiming they didn’t “fit the neighborhood vibe.” Frustrated and disheartened, the writer hoped that at least their Halloween decorations would be left untouched, as they brought a bit of joy. Halloween had always been special, not just for the fun of decorations or candy, but because it evoked warm childhood memories. However, this year felt different—darker. The writer was deeply hurt by the realization that they would never create those cherished memories with children of their own, leaving a painful void in their heart.
Halloween had been a small source of healing for the writer, helping them cope, one bag of candy at a time. After filling a pumpkin with candy for the kids, they hoped for the best. But the next morning, they were devastated—every decoration had been taken, the candy stolen, and the only remaining pumpkin smashed. Overcome with frustration and sadness, the writer decided they wouldn’t let this go. Knowing exactly who was responsible, they marched across the street and angrily pounded on Catherine’s door, shouting for her to open up and calling her a “witch,” no longer caring who might hear.
After a few tense moments, Catherine flung the door open, glaring angrily.
“Have you lost your mind?” she yelled, standing with her hands on her hips.
The writer, shaking with fury, demanded, “What did you do with my decorations?”
Catherine shot back, “I didn’t touch your stupid decorations! Though they looked awful, if you ask me! But I’m not ruining Halloween for the kids.” Her denial, mixed with insult, only fueled the writer’s frustration.
“Just like you didn’t steal my flowerpots?” I screamed, stepping closer, my voice full of accusation.
“Maeve, you’re crazy! You have no proof it was me!” Catherine shouted back, her face flushing with anger. Without another word, she slammed the door in my face, the loud bang echoing through the street.
I stood there, trembling with frustration. “Witch!” I yelled at the closed door, my anger still boiling inside me.
As I stood there, I noticed that some of the neighbors had come outside, watching the entire confrontation unfold. Their curious eyes were fixed on me, and I could already imagine the whispers and judgments forming behind my back.
Now, they probably thought I was the crazy one. All I had wanted was to do something nice for Halloween, and it had all been ruined. My throat tightened as the tears began to build up again. Feeling overwhelmed and defeated, I turned away without saying another word and walked back home, my chest heavy with unspoken sobs.
Inside, I sat down and wiped my eyes, feeling the weight of the day’s events. I realized I couldn’t let this go. Halloween meant too much to me, and I refused to let Catherine or anyone else ruin it. That evening, I resolved to take action and make things right.
I went to the store and bought new decorations and candy. Once I finished setting everything up, I carefully placed a small camera among the decorations. This time, I was determined to have proof if she tried to mess with them again.
In the middle of the night, I was jolted awake by a strange noise. My heart raced as I looked out the window and saw that all my decorations were gone—again. Anger surged within me as I quickly threw on my slippers and rushed outside.
The cool night air hit my face as I ran to grab the camera I had set up earlier. This time, I was confident I would catch Catherine in the act.
I hurried back inside and turned on the video, my eyes narrowed in anticipation of seeing Catherine. To my shock, it wasn’t her at all. Instead, a boy no older than 12 was taking my decorations and candy. I stared at the screen, confused, as I didn’t recognize him from the neighborhood.
Without thinking, I grabbed my coat and followed the direction the boy had gone. I passed house after house, but none seemed like his home.
I knew all the local kids, and he definitely wasn’t one of them. Eventually, I found myself standing in front of an old, abandoned house. A strange feeling washed over me, urging me to go inside.
Inside, it was dark and cold, the air damp and heavy. I pulled my cardigan tighter and stepped carefully on the creaky wooden floors. Suddenly, I noticed a faint light coming from one of the rooms. I walked in and froze.
There, huddled together, were the boy from the video and a little girl, barely four years old. They were trembling and surrounded by my Halloween decorations.
“Please, don’t turn us in to the police!” the boy cried, his voice shaking. “My sister loves Halloween, but we don’t have any money. I didn’t want to steal, I swear! You just had the best decorations,” he said, his eyes wide with fear.
I stood there, staring at the two small kids huddled in the awful, broken house. They looked so frightened, and to be honest, I was scared too. In that moment, the decorations didn’t matter anymore. My heart ached for them, realizing that their circumstances were far more important than the loss of my Halloween setup.
“Why are you here? Where are your parents?” I asked gently.
“We don’t have any,” the boy replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “We ran away from our foster parents because they weren’t treating us right.”
I knelt down to their level, trying to understand their situation better. “What are your names?” I asked softly.
“I’m David, and this is my sister, Nicole,” he said, putting his arm around the little girl for comfort.
“My name is Maeve,” I told them, trying to sound reassuring. “You can’t stay here. It’s too cold. Come with me.”
David looked up at me, fear in his eyes. “Are you going to call the police?” he asked, his voice trembling.
I shook my head. “No. I’m going to take you home,” I said, reaching out my hands to them both.
David and Nicole had been staying with me for several days now, and during that time, I had learned more about them through social services. It broke my heart to hear that their foster parents hadn’t even reported them missing.
How could anyone just forget about two children? I knew right then that there was no way they could go back. So, I filed the paperwork for temporary custody.
I shook my head. “No. I’m going to take you home,” I said, reaching out my hands to them both.
David and Nicole had been staying with me for several days, and during that time, I had learned more about them through social services. It broke my heart to hear that their foster parents hadn’t even reported them missing.
How could anyone just forget about two children? I knew right then that there was no way they could go back. So, I filed the paperwork for temporary custody, determined to give them a safe place to stay and the care they needed.
Having them there transformed the house—it felt warmer and more alive. I hadn’t realized how empty it had been before. It was as if David and Nicole had always been a part of my life, filling the space with laughter and joy. Their presence brought a sense of purpose and happiness that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
In the evenings, I would read them bedtime stories, and each time, I felt tears welling up. I never thought my dream of having children would come true in such an unexpected way. But here we were, and it felt right.
On Halloween night, there was a knock at the door. Expecting trick-or-treaters, I smiled as I opened it, but instead of kids in costumes, I found two police officers standing there. My heart sank as I wondered what could have brought them to my door.
“Can I help you, officers?” I asked, feeling my stomach drop a little.
“Your neighbor reported some strange screaming coming from your house,” one of the officers said. I followed his gaze across the street to see Catherine standing there, arms crossed and a smug grin on her face. Of course, it was her.
Just then, a loud shout echoed from inside my house. I smiled sheepishly. “Oh, that? I’m showing the kids a scary movie for Halloween. You know, something fun for the night,” I explained, stepping aside. “Would you like to come in and check?”
The officers exchanged glances but nodded, stepping into the house. I hoped they would see the joy and laughter inside, proving to them—and to Catherine—that everything was just fine.
The officers nodded and followed me inside. As we walked into the living room, one of them asked, “Are these your children?”
“Yes,” I replied, the word slipping out naturally. “These are my children.”
It was the first time I had said it, but I realized it was true. In such a short time, they had become my family, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them now. The warmth and love in the room filled me with pride, and I hoped the officers could see that too.
The officers glanced at David and Nicole, who were sitting on the couch with wide eyes as they watched the scary movie. Every so often, they would pull the blanket over their heads, only to peek out again.
The officers smiled, clearly recognizing that everything was just fine. “Have a good evening, ma’am,” they said as they headed out the door.
As they walked away, I stepped onto the porch and waved at Catherine, who was still watching from across the street. A sense of satisfaction washed over me, knowing that my little family was safe and happy, despite her attempts to disrupt our lives.
She looked furious, her face red with frustration. With a loud huff, she stomped her foot and marched back inside. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
The next morning, I did what I had been thinking about for days—I applied to adopt David and Nicole. From that point on, I never spent another holiday alone. Every day was filled with laughter, love, and the warmth of family. I finally had what I had always dreamed of: I could call myself “Mom.”
This story beautifully captures the unexpected joys of family and connection, illustrating how love can flourish in the most surprising circumstances. Maeve’s journey from feeling alone to embracing her role as a mother to David and Nicole is heartwarming and inspiring. It reminds us of the importance of compassion and understanding, even in the face of hostility.