Brent Hutton had lived in Norman Court for most of his life. It was a collection of grey tower blocks that cast a long shadow across the town, and was avoided by most of the surrounding townspeople.
Norman Court had a rough, and in Brent’s mind unearned reputation. There was crime on the council estate that he called home, but there was crime everywhere, and for every difficult incident, there was twice as much community spirit, so Brent had never considered himself unlucky to live in Norman Court, except, of course, during October.
October was a rough time for the residents of Norman Court, but nobody had it quite as bad as Brent, and as he counted down the days on the calendar, watching the worst month of the year creep closer, he couldn’t help but feel anxious.
The Baxter family were impossible to avoid for the residents of Norman Court, but they had a particular fascination with Brent, and he’d never been able to figure out why.
It always started with a knock at the door on the first of October. Brent had stopped answering, knowing that nothing would be there, except a reminder that the Baxter’s had returned for another year to torment him. They’d knock again and again and he’d cower behind the couch, watching the front door with frightened eyes, praying for the noise to stop for the night.
For the first nine days, all that they’d do is knock on the door, travelling up and down the rows of flats to pay each one a visit, but on the tenth day of October, they began to pay special attention to Brent.
On the tenth of October, it was little William Baxter’s birthday, and he’d always pay a visit to Brent’s flat to celebrate. The small boy would stand by the front window, his hands and face pressed up against the glass, glaring with glassy, dark eyes into the living room.
He wouldn’t move, or speak, he’d just stare from the moment the sun rose, until it set, and then he’d give Brent a little wave before turning, heading down the stairs and vanishing into the night.
He wouldn’t be gone long. As the night wore on, the boy called out Brent’s name, his cries creeping closer and closer as the hours ticked by.
On the eleventh of October, the whole family would begin to visit Brent, knocking on his windows and howling into the air as the hours slipped by.
They would visit him every day until sundown on October 30th, and as the sun fell on the day before Halloween, Brent would dread the dawn that approached the next day.
Today, we find Brent in his bedroom, staring at his alarm clock as Halloween creeps closer. In a few hours, the true terror of the Baxter family will be unleashed, and it will start with one more knock at the door.
All of Brent’s neighbours were gathered by his front door, the Baxter family leant against the bannisters of the stairway with the same sinister smile.
The minutes melted into hours and the clock echoed through his bedroom as little William Baxter raised a fist to the front door and knocked.