I had recently moved to a new town, hoping for a fresh start, but my neighbor Catherine made sure to ruin everything. She continually complained and took my Halloween decorations. I set up a camera with the intention of catching her in the act and exacting ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ. What I learned was far more upsetting than I had expected.
I had just completed putting up the Halloween decorations at my new house and was pleased with how everything turned out.
The front yard was decorated with orange pumpkins, spider webs, and lovely ghosts, all set for trick-or-treating.
It felt great to be settled after only a month in this place. My employment was wonderful, the house was comfortable, and the town itself seemed charming—except for one thing: my neighbors.
Since the day I moved in, it felt like they had been out to get me. It started with tiny things—comments about where I parked or how I didn’t trim my shrubs properly.
They would look at me disapprovingly if I said “hi” in an inappropriate way. It did not take long for the antagonism to escalate. One evening, they even phoned the cops because I was playing music at 7 p.m.! I could not believe it.
The worst of the bunch was Catherine, who lived across the street. She was unrelenting, often coming over to whine about something. She once grabbed my flowerpots and claimed they “didn’t fit the neighborhood vibe.”
I was quite frustrated. Still, when I gazed around my beautifully adorned home, I hoped it would be left alone. Just one thing that might bring you delight.
I’ve liked Halloween since I can remember. It wasn’t simply the décor or the candy; it made me nostalgic for simpler times and happy childhood memories.
But this year felt different, darker. There was a void in my heart where my hopes of having children used to reside. It pained knowing that I will never be able to create such particular moments for my own children.
However, Halloween allowed me to recover a little, one bag of sweets at a time. I poured it into a pumpkin, put it out for the kids, and walked inside, hoping for the best.
The next morning, my heart sank. All of my decorations were gone. The sole pumpkin remaining had been crushed, and the sweets had been stolen. Tears welled up as I covered my lips, overcome with frustration and grief. It was too much. I was not going to let it slip. I knew who did it, and I was determined to hold her accountable!
I stormed across the street and hammered on Catherine’s door, my rage boiling over.
“Catherine! Open up! You’re a real witch!” I shouted, not caring who else heard.
After a few moments, the door swung open, and there she stood, glaring at me.
“Have you lost your mind?” she yelled, hands on her hips.
“What did you do with my decorations?” I demanded, my voice shaking with fury.
“I didn’t touch your stupid decorations! Though they looked awful, if you ask me!” she shot back. “But I’m not ruining Halloween for the kids.”
“Just like you didn’t steal my flowerpots?” I screamed, stepping closer.
“Maeve, you’re crazy! You have no proof it was me!” She yelled, her cheeks red. Then she slammed the door in my face.
I stood there shaking. “Witch!” I yelled at the locked door.
As I stood there, I noticed that some of the neighbors had come outside to observe the entire thing.
Their curious gaze was locked on me, and I could immediately hear the whispering behind my back.
They undoubtedly thought I was insane now. I just wanted to do something pleasant for Halloween, but everything had been ruined. My throat clenched, and I could feel tears welling up again. Without saying another word, I turned and headed back home, my chest heavy with weeping.
Inside, I sat down and wiped my eyes. I couldn’t let it go. Halloween was too important to me. I refused to let Catherine or anyone else to destroy it. That evening, I had made up my mind.
I went to the store and purchased new decorations and candy. When I was done putting everything back together, I carefully placed a little camera amid the decorations. This time, if she messed with them, I would have evidence.
I awoke in the middle of the night to a strange noise. My heart pounded as I gazed out the window. All of my decorations were gone. Again. Anger welled up inside me as I hastily put on my slippers and dashed outdoors.
The cool night air touched my face as I dashed to retrieve the camera I had set up earlier. This time, I was confident I’d catch Catherine in the act.
I rushed back inside and switched on the video. My eyes focused, expecting to see Catherine, but to my surprise, it was not her. Instead, a boy no older than 12 took my decorations and candy. I stared at the screen, puzzled. I did not recognize him from the neighborhood.
Without thinking, I grabbed my coat and went where the boy had gone. I passed house after house, but none of them looked like his.
I knew every neighborhood child, and he wasn’t one of them. Eventually, I found myself standing in front of an old, abandoned house. A odd feeling overcame me, prompting me to walk inside.
The inside was gloomy and cold, with damp and thick air. I tightened my cardigan and took careful steps on the creaky wooden floors. Suddenly, I noticed a dim light coming from a chamber. I walked in and froze.
There were two youngsters gathered together—the kid from the video and a young girl, barely four years old. They trembled, enveloped 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 and stared at them. Two tiny children in this terrible, dilapidated house. They appeared terrified, and to be honest, I was worried as well. The decorations no longer mattered.
“Why are you here? Where are your parents?” I asked.
“We don’t have any,” the boy replied. “We ran away from our foster parents because they weren’t treating us right.”
I knelt down to their level, trying to understand. “What are your names?”
“I’m David, and this is my sister, Nicole,” he said, putting his arm around the little girl.
“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?”
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 a few days, and I had learned more about them through social services.
It hurt my heart to learn that their foster parents had not even reported them missing.
How could anyone simply forget about two children? I realized immediately away that they couldn’t go back. So I filled out the application for temporary custody.
It was a bit of a process, but the social worker agreed the kids could stay with me while we waited for things to be processed. That was a comfort; I wasn’t prepared to let them go.
The children were great. Nicole was first extremely quiet, saying hardly nothing. She would just sit alone, cuddling her small toy bunny. However, as the days passed, I noticed her gradually relaxing.
She began to smile, laugh, and speak a bit. David, too, appeared happier. He assisted me about the house, often asking if there was anything he could do.
Their presence changed the atmosphere of the house, making it feel warmer and more lively. I had not understood how empty it felt before. It felt like David and Nicole had always been a part of my life.
In the evenings, I used to read them bedtime stories. Every time, I could feel tears welling up. I never imagined my dream of having children would come true in such an unexpected way. But here we were, and it felt right.
On Halloween, there was a knock on the door. I smiled as I opened it, expecting to see trick-or-treaters, but instead, I saw two police officers.
“Can I help you, officers?” I asked, feeling my stomach drop somewhat.
“Your neighbor reported some strange screaming coming from your house,” one of the officers explained. I followed his eyes across the street to Catherine, who stood with arms crossed and a smug smirk on her face. Obviously, that was her.
Just suddenly, a loud yell resonated from within my home. I smiled shyly. “Oh, that. I’m showing the kids a scary movie for Halloween. You know, something fun for the night,” I said, standing aside. “Would you like to come in and check?”
The officers nodded before following me inside. As we entered the living room, one of them questioned, “Are these your children?”
“Yes,” I said, the word slipping out naturally. “These are my children.”
It was the first time I said it, but I knew it was true. They had quickly become like family to me. I can’t picture my life without them anymore.
The officers looked at David and Nicole, who were sitting on the couch, eyes wide, watching the terrible movie. Every now and then, they would pull the blanket over their heads and look out.
The police officers smiled plainly understanding that nothing was wrong. “Have a good evening, ma’am,” they said, walking out the door.
As they walked out, I stepped onto the porch and waved to Catherine, who was still watching from across the street.
She appeared enraged, her face flushed with agitation. With a loud huff, she stomped her foot and marched back inside. I couldn’t help smiling to myself.
The next morning, I did something I had been thinking about for days: I applied to adopt David and Nicole. From then on, I never spent another holiday alone. Every day was full of laughter, love, and the comfort of family. I now had what I had always wanted: the right to call myself “Mom.”
