...Marlene turned to Peter. “What do you mean? Some sort of club to go see horror movies? We already do that.” Marlene was the quietest of the group, and they all acknowledged she was the smartest, too.

Peter rolled his eyes. “No, I have something a little more imaginative in mind.” He paused and waited until Roy looked away from the computer monitor. Peter bit his lower lip, then continued. “I was thinking of this club as a limited time thing.” He let his statement hang in the air, hoping he was building an appropriate sense of suspense and danger. He hung back from the group gathered around the computer, hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts.

“Yeah. Like the McPig sandwiches at McDonald’s.” David snorted with laughter at his own joke.

“C’mon, Dave. Let him finish.” Roy spoke up, but his words weren’t very convincing. His high-pitched voice made him sound like a seven-year-old boy, or worse, a girl.

“Thanks,” Peter said. “Anyway, what I was thinking was this. It’s only six weeks until Halloween, right?”

Erin nodded and flung a mass of her dark brown hair over one shoulder. She gave Peter the full attention of her eyes, which were so dark they appeared bottomless. Erin was the prettiest of the group, and what made her especially so was the fact that she had no idea this was the case.

Peter continued. “Well, what we could do is meet officially once a week. At that time, one of us would be responsible for making up a scary story—you know, something really gross or bloody—for that week. Let’s see if we can come up with something more terrifying than any movie, something that would make some of us afraid to turn off the lights at bedtime. When we’re all done, we’ll take a vote, and whoever gets the most votes gets to decide how we’ll spend Halloween.”

“Boring!” David said. “Can we move on to other business, like putting some other music on? This sucks.” David reached out toward the computer, and Marlene slapped his hand away.

Her eyes were bright with interest. “I think the idea has potential.”

“I didn’t tell you guys the best part, though.” Peter’s face warmed with excitement. “We’ll meet at the Tuttle house each week. That’s where we’ll tell our stories.” Peter’s smile died as he surveyed the reaction on his friends’ faces.

The group got quiet. Even the music seemed to become softer, as if an unseen hand, pale, veiny, and covered with sores, was turning down the sound.

“The Tuttle house?” Erin whispered, her dark eyes alive with fear.

“Isn’t that where all those murders happened? That family?” Roy’s voice cracked.

“Supposedly,” David spoke up. “That was a long time ago, before any of us were even born. I think it’s just a rotting house up on the hill. Nothing to be scared of.”

“Then we can do it?” Peter sounded hopeful.

“I haven’t got a problem,” David said.

“I don’t know.” Erin twisted a strand of her dark hair. “What if someone catches us?”

“Who’s going to catch us?” Marlene spoke up. “The house is at the end of a dead-end road. There aren’t even any neighbors until you get to the Washington’s, and they’re at least a football field or two away. If we’re quiet, I don’t think anyone would pay any attention. It’s just an empty, old house, really.”