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Mr. Summerson didn’t usually celebrate Halloween. He never even gave out candy. But this year his boss invited him to a party, and he decided it would be impolite not to come.

After a few beers, he was in such a good mood that he even helped out with carving pumpkins and let his friends talk him into seeing the fortune-teller. Inside the dim-lit tent, a small woman dressed in a funny costume sat before a crystal ball. She looked him in the eyes and said, “You will die tonight.” Mr. Summerson tittered and rejoined his friends. But after a while, he realized he wasn’t enjoying the party as much anymore, so he left early.

Just as he got home, the doorbell rang. Who could it be?, he wondered, as he didn’t usually have guests at this hour.

At his door stood death. Black cloak, no face and a sharpened scythe, ready to reap his soul.

She was right after all, were the last of his thoughts.

The doctors say he died of a heart attack, though they are unsure what caused it. Pity that he chose this moment though, he gave the poor trick-or-treater quite a scare.


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