Kevin had already made a costume with his mom, helped his dad hang decorations, and was already dreaming of the mountain of candy he’d collect. But one undecorated house on his street kept bothering him. He couldn’t understand why anyone would skip celebrating, so he decided they might need help.
It was almost Halloween, and the entire neighborhood buzzed with excitement. Every yard seemed to compete for the title of “spookiest on the block.”
Pumpkins with jagged grins lined the sidewalks, plastic skeletons dangled from tree branches, and cottony cobwebs clung to porches.
The air smelled of dry leaves and sugar, and eleven-year-old Kevin breathed it all in, his heart thumping with excitement.
Halloween was his favorite day of the year—a time when anyone could be whoever they wanted. Kevin loved how, for one magical night, the whole world seemed to transform.
As he strolled down the sidewalk, his eyes darted from one house to the next, each glowing with jack-o’-lanterns or eerie ghosts. Some even had spooky sound effects—witches cackling, doors creaking, thunder rumbling. Kevin grinned from ear to ear.
But as he walked farther down the street, something caught his eye—something that didn’t fit.
One house stood completely dark and bare, the exact opposite of the festive homes around it. No pumpkins. No cobwebs. No skeletons. Not even a tiny decoration.
Kevin frowned when he realized whose house it was—Mrs. Kimbly’s.
He stopped in his tracks, staring at the plain front porch. He remembered her well. Mrs. Kimbly was an older lady who lived alone and rarely talked to anyone.
Kevin had helped her before—mowing her lawn in summer, shoveling her driveway in winter. She never said much, just handed him payment before quietly disappearing back inside.
But now, her undecorated house seemed out of place—like it didn’t belong in the same cheerful neighborhood.
Why hadn’t she decorated? Everyone else had. Kevin couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
Halloween was supposed to be fun, and it didn’t seem fair that anyone—especially someone who lived all alone—should miss out.
Kevin’s heart gave a little squeeze. Maybe she just needed help, he thought. Maybe she couldn’t decorate by herself.
Determined, Kevin turned and dashed across the street toward her house. The fallen leaves crunched under his sneakers as he climbed the steps to her front door. He hesitated, then knocked. The sound echoed in the still air, and Kevin shifted nervously. After what felt like forever, the door creaked open.
Mrs. Kimbly appeared, her face set in a deep frown, eyes narrowed behind thick glasses. She looked as if she’d been interrupted from something important.
“What do you want, Kevin?” she asked sharply, her voice low and gruff.
Kevin swallowed hard. “Hi, Mrs. Kimbly. I just noticed… well, your house doesn’t have any Halloween decorations, and I thought maybe you forgot. I could help you put some up, if you’d like.”
Her eyes narrowed even more—if that was possible.
“I didn’t forget,” she snapped. “I don’t need any decorations, and I don’t need help. Now, go away.” She started to close the door.
“I could do it for free!” Kevin blurted out quickly. “You wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.”
Mrs. Kimbly scowled. “No!” she barked, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.
Kevin stood frozen. How could anyone hate Halloween that much?
He knew if her house stayed bare, the other kids might target it for pranks—throwing toilet paper, or worse. He sighed and started to leave, but halfway down the steps, an idea began forming in his mind.
When Kevin got home, he found his mom, Sarah, in the kitchen stirring a pot of soup. The smell of chicken broth filled the air, but Kevin barely noticed. His mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Mrs. Kimbly’s dark house.
“Mom, something weird happened,” he said, sliding into a chair.
Sarah turned toward him, wiping her hands on a towel. “What is it, sweetheart?” she asked, giving him her full attention.
Kevin explained how Mrs. Kimbly’s house was the only one without decorations and how she’d slammed the door when he offered to help.
But when he mentioned her name, Sarah’s face softened. A distant look clouded her eyes.
“Maybe it’s best to leave her alone,” she said gently. “She’s probably going through something we don’t understand. People have their reasons for doing things we might not know about.”
Kevin frowned, shaking his head. “But, Mom, she needs help. I don’t think she’s mad—I think she’s just sad. Halloween’s supposed to be fun. She shouldn’t have to spend it feeling bad.”
Sarah’s lips curved into a soft smile, though her eyes showed concern. “You have such a good heart, Kevin. Just be careful, okay? Sometimes people aren’t ready for help, even when they need it.”
Her words lingered in Kevin’s mind as he went upstairs. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Mrs. Kimbly didn’t hate Halloween—she was just lonely.
With newfound determination, Kevin gathered every decoration he could find—colorful lights, plastic spiders, some toys, and his favorite pumpkin, the one he’d spent hours carving. He loaded everything into his little wagon and hurried back to her house.
The wind rustled through the trees as he worked, hanging lights, arranging pumpkins, and draping fake cobwebs. Slowly, the dark house began to transform like the others on the street.
But just as Kevin placed the finishing touches, the front door creaked open.
Mrs. Kimbly stormed out, her face flushed with anger.
“I told you not to decorate my house!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the porch. Kevin froze, heart pounding.
“What have you done?!” she continued, her eyes blazing.
“I just wanted to help,” Kevin stammered. “It’s Halloween…”
“I hate Halloween!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion.
Kevin’s eyes widened as she grabbed the nearest pumpkin—the one he had carved with such care—and smashed it against the ground. It shattered into pieces, orange chunks scattering across the porch.
Kevin stared in shock, his stomach twisting.
Mrs. Kimbly stood there, breathing heavily, her face still angry—but behind that anger was something else. Something deeper.
“I’m sorry,” Kevin whispered, barely audible.
He turned and ran, his sneakers pounding the pavement all the way home.
That evening, Kevin dressed in his vampire costume, but his heart wasn’t in it. As he walked with his friends, collecting candy, he couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Kimbly’s house. He knew what was coming—without decorations or candy, her house would be an easy target for pranks.
Determined to protect her, Kevin broke away from his group and walked back to her street, his cape fluttering behind him. The air was cool, filled with laughter and the rustle of costumes, but he barely noticed.
When he reached her house, he sat on the porch steps, clutching his half-full candy bag. The pumpkins he’d set out earlier still glowed faintly, but without her there, it all felt hollow.
Whenever trick-or-treaters came by, Kevin stood and handed out candy from his own stash.
“Mrs. Kimbly’s not home,” he’d say with a small smile, though his candy supply quickly dwindled.
Some kids looked confused, others shrugged and took the candy happily. Kevin didn’t mind—it was better than seeing them mess with her house.
After a while, as he sat watching the neighborhood buzz with joy, the door behind him creaked open. Startled, Kevin turned to see Mrs. Kimbly standing there. Her face no longer looked harsh; her shoulders had relaxed, her voice softer.
“What are you doing here, Kevin?” she asked quietly.
He shifted nervously. “I didn’t want anyone to mess with your house,” he said. “I know you don’t like Halloween, but I thought maybe I could help.”
Mrs. Kimbly hesitated, then sighed and sat beside him on the steps. For a moment, they both watched the costumed kids run from house to house, laughter echoing in the night.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” she said finally. Her voice carried a trace of sadness. “I wasn’t mad at you, Kevin. It’s just… Halloween is hard for me. I don’t have kids or grandkids, and seeing everyone else celebrate just reminds me how alone I am.”
Kevin’s heart sank. He hadn’t thought of that. “But you don’t have to be alone,” he said earnestly. “You can still enjoy it with the rest of us. We’d be happy to have you join in.”
Mrs. Kimbly smiled faintly, her eyes glistening. “You’re right, Kevin. I’ve let my loneliness get the best of me for too long.” She reached out and patted his hand gently. “Thank you for what you did today. And I’m sorry about your pumpkin. I shouldn’t have smashed it.”
Kevin smiled, his heart warming. “It’s okay,” he said. “I have another one at home. I’ll bring it over, and we can carve it together.”
Mrs. Kimbly chuckled softly—a sound Kevin had never heard before. As she watched him dash off down the street to fetch the pumpkin, she felt something she hadn’t felt in years—the warmth of Halloween again, all thanks to one determined boy’s kindness.
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Source: amomama.com
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.