Every October in our house feels like magic.
I’m Amanda, 36 years old, and mom to three incredible kids—Lucas, who’s eight and full of questions about everything, Emma, my six-year-old dreamer who sees wonder in the smallest things, and Ben, my wild three-year-old who’s still figuring out this whole world.
Kids playing in a room | Source: Pexels
My husband Jake likes to tease me, saying I turn our home into a “Halloween wonderland” every single year, but honestly, I can’t help myself. I just want my kids to feel the kind of joy I used to dream about when I was their age.
By mid-October, our yard becomes the neighborhood’s favorite destination. Glowing pumpkins line the walkway from the sidewalk to our front door, paper bats dance across every window, and soft orange lights wrap around the porch columns like they’re giving our house a warm hug.
Pumpkins lined on the stairs | Source: Pexels
The kids’ favorite inflatable ghost bobs in the yard, and I always hang our big “Welcome, Witches!” banner right by the front door where everyone can see it.
Inside, I bake cookies shaped like pumpkins and ghosts, and we play Halloween music while decorating. Every year, we host a little party for our friends and neighbors, where the kids run around the house and the adults chat and catch up.
It’s always this beautiful mix of chaos and joy, and I absolutely love every single minute of it.
This year, we’d really gone all out.
The kids helped me carve pumpkins at the kitchen table, their little hands covered in pumpkin guts as they giggled and argued about what faces to make. Jake had spent an entire weekend building a fog machine from scratch, tinkering away in the garage like a mad scientist. I’d spent the night before Halloween outside in the cool air, decorating the fence and the stairs as best as I could.
When I finally went to bed that night, our house looked like something straight out of a storybook. The kids had been so excited they could barely sleep, counting down the hours until the next evening’s party.
I remember lying in bed next to Jake, feeling so relieved and happy. I thought everything was perfect.
But the next morning, things took an unexpected turn.
I woke up early to an awful smell drifting through the house. At first, I thought maybe we’d forgotten to take the garbage bin to the curb. I pulled on my robe and headed downstairs, rubbing sleep from my eyes. But when I opened the front door and stepped outside, my heart absolutely sank.
Our front yard looked like a hurricane had torn through it overnight.
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Pumpkins were smashed into mush across the walkway, orange pulp and seeds scattered everywhere like some kind of horrible crime scene.
Decorations were ripped to shreds, hanging limply from broken strings. The inflatable ghost that Ben loved so much lay deflated and torn. Even Jake’s fog machine was completely gone, stolen right from our porch.
The fence lights had been ripped out violently, wires dangling like snapped vines, and the “Welcome, Witches!” banner was torn in half.
For a few seconds, I just stood there frozen, unable to even process what I was seeing.
“Mom! What happened to our house?” Lucas’s voice cut through my shock. He came running out behind me in his dinosaur pajamas, his eyes wide with horror.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I managed to say, trying desperately to keep my voice steady.
A close-up shot of a woman’s eye | Source: Midjourney
Jake rushed out seconds later, still in his T-shirt and boxers, staring at the destruction in complete disbelief. “This isn’t random vandalism, Amanda. Someone did this on purpose.”
He was right. It looked deliberate. Every single decoration had been destroyed, not just knocked over or broken by accident. Someone had wanted to completely ruin it and they’d succeeded.
I spent the next hour calling our neighbors to check if they’d seen anything. But no one had noticed a thing. Everyone I spoke to sounded just as shocked as I felt.
A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels
Mrs. Peterson from across the street came over with coffee and hugged me. “Amanda, honey, this is terrible. I can’t believe someone would do this to you.”
“Did you see any cars? Anyone walking around late?” I asked, hoping for something.
She shook her head slowly. “Nothing at all. But you know what’s really strange? Nothing else on the entire street was touched. Just your house.”
That comment stayed with me all day, echoing in my head while we picked up the mess. Why only our house? Why would someone target us specifically?
An hour later, as I bent down to gather pieces of shattered pumpkin, something caught the morning light near the walkway. I reached down and picked up a small silver hair clip shaped like a delicate leaf.
It looked oddly familiar, tugging at some memory I couldn’t quite place. I turned it over in my fingers, studying the intricate design, then tucked it into my pocket and kept cleaning.
The kids were devastated. Emma cried when she saw her favorite pumpkin smashed. Meanwhile, Ben kept asking why someone would hurt our ghost. Lucas just got quiet, which worried me more than tears would have.
A boy standing outdoors | Source: Pexels
Later that evening, after we’d filled three garbage bags with destroyed decorations, Jake came home from the hardware store with supplies to start rebuilding. His phone buzzed as he was setting down the bags, and I watched his face change as he read the screen.
“What is it?” I asked, immediately alarmed.
He shook his head. “You’re not going to believe this.”
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