Gloomi pressed her translucent fingers against the frost-rimmed windowpane. Below, a parade of costumed children marched down Maple Street, their candy buckets overflowing. Muffled laughter and the crinkle of cellophane drifted through the glass. Her own house stayed dark and quiet. She turned away and floated toward her closet.
Gloomi tugged open the closet door. Inside hung the old velvet cape she had stitched the year before. She wrapped it around her shoulders—it dragged on the floorboards with a soft whisper. She marched to the front door, but the cold brass handle would not yield. Her ghostly hands slipped right through it.
A sudden gust of wind blew the door open anyway. It nearly flipped Gloomi onto her back as she tumbled out into the night. She hovered just beyond the porch, catching her breath. The street was alive with movement and light.
Three children stood in a line: a dragon, a robot, and a baker. Each held a glittery pumpkin lantern that buzzed like a firefly. They stopped before the bakery and rattled their buckets. Warm cinnamon sugar spilled into the chilly air. The dragon child turned and spotted Gloomi.
"Are you the ghost in the haunted house?" the robot child called, stepping closer. Its LED eye flickered. Gloomi opened her mouth to vanish, but the baker child held out a still‑warm cookie shaped like a skull. "We saved this for the neighborhood ghost," the baker said.
Gloomi floated forward and wrapped her velvet cape tight around herself. The street suddenly erupted into a parade of costumed kids chanting and chasing glowing pumpkins. She zoomed ahead of the group, her cape streaming behind her like a comet’s tail. The children cheered.
Gloomi led the procession down Maple Street, her translucent form glowing in the moonlight. Behind her, the dragon, robot, and baker followed, their lanterns bobbing. The neighborhood lights blazed warm yellow and orange.
Gloomi floated backward through her own open front door, the cookie dust still golden on her fingertips. Behind her, the neighborhood lights blazed warm yellow and orange. The other children waved from the street, already marching toward the next house, their laughter ringing like wind chimes.
She set her velvet cape on the rocking chair in the hall. Then she picked up the leftover candy bowl and held it close. The house was quiet again, but not empty. She knew the children would return, lantern in hand, for the ghost who had joined their parade.
The haunted house stood silent at the end of the street, its windows dark except for one where a faint, friendly light still flickered. A single glittery pumpkin lantern sat on the porch step, buzzing softly like a firefly.