Night of the Black Goo

He hated Hallow's Eve.

Every year inevitably led to some upstart teen jaders trying to break into his home looking for a scare, and in the process leaving such a mess. If only they thought to ring the bell they might discover for themselves that the old decrepit mansion was not quite as abandoned as they surmised. As it was, every year, Loren was forced to wake up in the middle of the night, and chase those interlopers out of his house, bleary-eyed and groggy, at three in the morning. He had no idea why they kept coming back, year after year, and throwing salt and sage all over the place just added insult to injury. Weeks after he'd find he missed a spot and step the grains, and they'd get all over his paws – it was nightmare.

This year however, Loren had a plan. He had discovered in one of the dusty tombs of the mansion's library mention of an ancient sacrificial ritual by which to rid one of pesky trespassers. So he gathered up various ingredients and locked himself inside the kitchen.

For three days Loren did not emerge. His books sat neglected. The wind blew the shutters open. The leaves blew into the living room. The spiders spun webs in undusted corners. Still, the jader slaved away at his task. The only sign of his presence the clatter of cookware and the occasional puff of oily black smoke from the chimney.

Finally it was the night of All Hallow's Eve. The group of young jaders stood outside the creepy looking mansion trembling with a mixture of excitement and fear. The darkened windows stared down at them in warning, daring them to come any closer. Crows had gathered in one of the many dead trees that leaned against the old house, as if for support. There were so many they looked like they were the very leaves themselves, until a paw hit a stray rock and startled them all into flight.

Chills ran up and down their spines as the group approached the door. The crows scolded them harshly, and they each of them wanted to turn back, though none would dare admit it to each other.

As they stepped onto the porch however, a strange smell met their nostrils. The ancient wood creaked beneath their paws, as step after step they made their way to the door.

There on the porch, right in front of the door, sat a bowl. A crow fluttered up from it, screeching indignantly. Carefully they all peeked over the rim. Inside the bowl was a black, gooey, hideous amalgamation of corn syrup and molasses. It was, to their horrors, a bowl of licorice. The jaders screamed at the overpowering smell. They tripped over themselves in their desperate need to get away, howling as if the Gravekeeper himself was on their tails.

Loren sat inside his cozy abode, with a plate of licorice and a cup of tea. He heaved a sigh, grateful for the peace and quiet. It seemed the book had been right, and the best trick to dispelling unwanted visitors was to hurl licorice at them.

Although now he faced another problem – what was he going to do with all these crows?