The sweet syrup of terror

On a weekend hike, Gregory finds a forgotten cabin. "Do you think anyone still lives here?" he wonders aloud, peering through the dusty window.

A few people in the back of the movie theater groan. Someone in the middle shouts “don’t do it, homie!” A few people chuckle. Of course, Gregory is on the screen and can’t hear the audience in Brooklyn. He turns the cabin’s doorknob, and the door swings open. He smiles wide.

The cabin is filled from wall to wall and floor to ceiling with jack-o-lanterns. There is not even enough room to shimmy between them. "How am I supposed to get to the kitchen for that cup of sugar?" he asks himself. "Maybe if you said, please..." groans a voice. Gregory gapes at

... a giant carved pumpkin face; a shimmering ghoulish projection from another dimension. "W-w-what do you want," Gregory stammered. "Your undying fealty," the gourd intoned, its cindery, hot breathe wafting into Gregory face. Just then, Gregory spotted the sugar and had an idea.

He quickly sneaked past the mask and reached for the dessert. As he was about to taste the sugar, it transformed into caramel. Oddly, his fingers felt perfectly cool. “Don’t look behind you. The movie is just about to start." ~Bach - Crab Canon for Flute Duet (YouTube)~