Deep through the gnarled trees sits a shack with a broken door and half a roof that only a select few know even exists, and they never get a chance to talk about their experience. Every Halloween, a path appears to young trick-or-treaters, who follow the carved pumpkins lining the walkway up to the small porch decorated with homemade ghosts. The rundown shack is transformed into a cozy, brightly lit cottage. A smiling woman promptly greets them and invites them in. No one has ever solved the mysterious disappearances, although from years past there used to be a story behind them.

The story begins with an ailing woman believed to be practicing the black arts. A large cauldron hangs on a hook in the fireplace that dominates her small house. Whispers about her started when she would bring strangers into her home, but no one sees them leaving, or being out and about. But then again, no one has really befriended her to know the intimate details of her life.

Though what happens inside her private shelter is unknown, many have heard groans of agony that go on and on. Because the village comprises of people barely getting by on their own, they lack the energy to investigate the disturbing sounds. If they can see their kinsfolk, then all is well in their own world. The witch at the other side of town can do what she wants as long as she stays away from their business. In their thinking, better them (the strangers) than us.

One night, 10-year-old Caleb decides to sneak out to explore the cause of the whisperings about town and the whining that can’t be explained as the wind. Any warnings made to him by his parents and friends are not enough to keep him away from learning more about the woman they describe as a conjurer.

Creeping up to a murky looking window on the side of the so-called witch’s cottage, Caleb rubs the sleeve of his jacket on a lower corner of the window. His eyes widen when he sees the woman bent over someone down on the floor. From his vantage, he  only sees  a pair of legs encased in torn pants. An unholy wail penetrates through the thin walls. The woman seems to overpower the struggling person, whose helpless kicking eventually ceases, along with the lament. Suddenly, his surrounding is too quiet. Caleb feels the hair behind his neck prickle, as if someone is watching him. He turns around. Seeing nothing, he returns his gaze to the window. He yelps in surprise when his peering eye directly meets a dilated pupil. Fear overcomes him, as he tries to shake himself loose.

“I see you, boy.” The cackling is too close to his ear. Unable to move, he feels hands grab him.

“I seize you . . .” More cackling follows as he is carried inside the house.

“Help!” Caleb finds his voice, as the woman shuts the door and places him on a cot.

“So you want to know what goes on here, do you?” The woman’s face is a blur as Caleb’s eyes tear up from realizing his folly. Rotting smell around him makes his eyes water even more. He still cannot comprehend how he was detected.

“Eye saw you,” she says, as if reading his mind. “But Eye is getting old, so you came at the right time.” She laughs some more, as the boy’s last thoughts wonder what she means.

The next morning, Caleb’s house turns chaotic when his family notices his absence. Their efforts prove fruitless even when their friends and neighbors help search the neighborhood. The only place left to look is in the vicinity of “that woman’s house.” Feeling assured that their large number will protect them, they march to the witch’s little dwelling. As they approach the humble looking house, they hear someone chanting inside. Those facing the door start pounding on it, but the chanting continues, while the angry crowd is ignored.

The lack of response from inside makes someone in the group speak up, “Let’s just tear it down.” The crowd pounds harder until the door finally cracks open. When they barge in, Caleb’s mother weaves herself in and gasps, “Those are Caleb’s night clothes!” A child-sized shirt and matching pants are strewn on the floor, but the only person in sight is the homeowner, who continues to chant and smile at the crowd without any concerns.

“What have you done to my son?” Caleb’s mother shouts at the woman, but is hesitant to touch her as the woman doesn’t look right in the head.

Between Caleb’s clothes as evidence of his possibly being been there and the woman’s lack of communication, the frustrated crowd decides to be the judge and jury. They pull the woman outside and threaten to hang her if she doesn’t reveal Caleb’s whereabouts.

The woman only laughs and says cryptically, “He has a good eye. He makes a good watch.”  She continues to laugh as they place a noose around her and give her a final warning to talk or die. Her laugh turns to a gurgle as the rope tightens and someone kicks the chair from under her feet.

A stillness settles on the crowd as they realize what they’ve done. Amid the crying of Caleb’s family and friends, the crowd disperses to go back to their homes. Since that day, no one has ever spoken of the event and nobody has dared return to the woman’s place.

As years have passed, an eyeball wedged on a tree across from the old shack continues to behold the transformation that happens every Halloween. A single tear drop falls for every trick-or-treater trapped inside the hovel.