Jack, Little Leech

In the days of the Last Harvest, when the cold weather slowly approaches the houses, and black crows circle lower and lower over the rooftops, the city streets are filled with festively dressed residents. Everyone wants to breathe in the last warm breeze of the outgoing summer. Even the dead on this day come to the smell of pumpkin pies and strong ale to have fun among the living. Hordes of children run from house to house in different scary costumes, begging for sweets from the townspeople.
“Trick or treat!” The children shout joyfully on the doorsteps, asking for food from their owners. Such a festive mood did not escape the old mansion that was overgrown with ivy and faded hops. The landlady smiled, inviting the child in.
“Any sweets you want! Just promise me one thing.” The tall Wolfen woman bent down to better see the child’s eyes that stared at her through the slits in the large pumpkin on his head. “You’ll stay with me until the end of my “trick”.”
“Sure, miss …” The child’s voice sounded uncertain.
“You have no idea how good it is.” The witch smiled even wider.” Such a wonderful harvest this year! What’s your name?”
“Jack, ma’am.” The door slammed shut behind them. The child turned around at a sharp sound.
“Tell me, Jack,” the witch’s voice became smooth, “didn’t you beat the windows of my mansion in the spring?”
“Erhm… absolutely not, ma’am!” Jack’s voice filled with fear.
“Don’t lie to me. Relax, I’m not angry. I really enjoy pranks.”
“It’s him! It was him!” Pumpkins on the windowsills whispered and then started to laugh. The child rushed to the door, but it wouldn’t open. The magical power kept her tightly closed, so even a strong warrior would never open it. The pumpkins on the windowsills laughed even louder, seeing Jack’s futile attempts to get out.
“This year brought us a wonderful harvest, indeed.” A silver sickle flashed in the witch’s hands. “It’s time to collect it!”
“Another one of us! Another!” The pumpkins on the windowsills continued to laugh.