Pete sits in his grandmother’s house alone. The old lady lives at the end of a long, winding lane in her tree covered, suburban neighborhood. He is stuck handing out candy to trick-or-treaters. He wants to be at Chuck’s party, but he is grounded for taking his dad’s car out for a joy ride. One little ding and he is marked for life. It is not like he is not going to be old enough to drive next year anyway. So he had a choice: take his little sisters out for their little candy hunting expedition, or stay at Gram’s so she could. Peter is way too grown up for trick-or-treating.
The hours pass and he only gets a few kids early on. Gram hands out bags of trail mix so the house is marked. Some of the parents go on about the house being haunted to spook their kids. I guess it is a good house for that, the only Victorian style house on the street full of new development, and tucked well away. The street used to be his great grandfather’s driveway when the area was the family farm. So to a little kid it would be scary. Not to Peter, however, he is too old for that.
That is why he ignores his heart picking up pace as the old house settles. He knows the sounds of the furnace is not the breathing of ghosts. The shadows cast by the candles Gram insisted be the only light outside of the den are not goblins looking to carry him away. He laughs it off when he starts at little noises. Kids stuff. He tells himself. Just his imagination and he knows better. He would not even be thinking about it if he got any cel reception here.
Instead he is stuck waiting for kids that never come and trying to get the DVD player to work. Gram insists on keeping her old TV and the static adds to the eerie atmosphere as he plays with the cables. He ignores the little voice in his head that tells him he hears people talking through the static. He ignores it until he hears one in particular.
“Miss ya Petey boy” He hears his grandfather and looks up to see his photo where it was not before. The bell rings and he flies up the stairs.