The jack-o’-lanterns on the porch of the Ackerman house were, to say the least, unusual. Not because of the nature or subject of the carvings, which were quite normal, pedestrian even. But the material from which they were carved…who carved jack-o-lanterns from old shoes? The jagged rubber of the soles shown where some instrument had sawed into them, making smiling toothy faces. The candles within emitted a greenish light all too merry for the holiday as well, further enhancing the disquiet the shoe-o-lanterns created.

The Ackermans had always been strange, but this was too much. Their door had been replaced with a stainless steel slab on hinges so greased it dripped. And a sign ushered any who dared come in for a spell. With those exact words.

Of course Johnny wanted to go in. To trash the place, he said. He’d dragged me along like a recalcitrant puppy, and treated me the same. But we were friends, and this was what friends did. Or at least I hoped it was, because otherwise I was about to have a very strange experience for no good earthly reason.

Once beyond the yawning portal we were greeted with more incongruous decorations: Christmas trees, flags, and more were strewed everywhere, as if the local holiday store had exploded. No one else was around, and the hallway beyond was empty and well-lit by fluorescent bulbs three feet long and white enough to burn.

“S’not scary at all,” Johnny offered.

I nodded in agreement. Doorframes dotted the hall but there were no doors, just two-by-fours crisscrossing the entry, funneling us onward. Johnny turned a corner and screamed. I raced around and found him on all fours, scrabbling away from an old gray mutt with matted fur and milky eyes. It’s tail wagged slowly, like an over-enthusiastic metronome, just off-beat.

“Get it away from me! It’s gonna eat me.”

I stepped over him and put my hand out. The dog nuzzled it and set about cleaning it with a slobbery tongue. “Since when do the Ackermans have a dog?”

“Who cares? Let’s get outta here!”

“Ah c’mon Johnny, you scared?”

“…no.”

“Good.” It was fun being in charge for once. I’d have to remember this for later. “Let’s keep going.”

We plodded on and came to a room without corners. It tickled my memory. Something something lovecraft…Tyndalos I think? But the creeping fear fled as swiftly as it came once I noticed the Cthulu plushies, dressed in soldiers uniforms from the civil war, both sides.

“This is fuckin’ weird…” said Johnny.

“You can say that again.”

“This is fuckin’ weird…”

“I didn’t mean literally goofball.”

“Whaddya mean?”

I shook my head and looked around. There were no doors or furniture, except for a rounded mantle with no fireplace. In the center of the room hung a waxed hemp rope with a plastic handle and a sign that read “Pull for fun,” when it wasn’t swinging out of view.

I shrugged and pulled it, then plummeted as the floor dropped out below us. The dog yowled and tumbled around in the air, or maybe it was Johnny. They both sounded the same. The fall went on long enough that I stopped screaming. It didn’t matter how cushy the landing was, we were going to splatter off it like pancakes on a highway.

Then my vision blurred and I passed out.

I blinked. There was no furniture in the round room, just a cord…with a sign…

“This is fuckin’ weird…” said Johnny

“Would you stop saying that?!”

“Whaddya mean?”

“We need to go, now.”

“You scared?”

“Yes.” And I took off.

We ran into the Ackermans with armloads of bags as we exited the house, dog and all. They smiled their weird smiles. “What were you doing in our house?”

I took a closer look at the stuff they held. It was Halloween decorations.

“We haven’t had a chance to decorate yet.”

“What?” I turned around ad the door was closed, no sign at all.

“But it was…”

They smirked, “Yeah, the house does that sometimes. Likes to play tricks. We lose a few every year. But you made it out, so no harm no foul. Why not come back for Thanksgiving? We turkey a great roast.”

I walked away. It was the only sensible thing to do.