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Author's Note:This is a quick, short and fluffy one for Halloween. There will NOT be anymore to this story. I NEVER had any intention of writing more.
 

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Max trudged through the leaves, the chilly autumn air nipping at his nose. He hadn't wanted to go out tonight. Halloween had lost its charm since his mom had passed away a year ago. The neighborhood felt empty without her laughter echoing through it. His friends, Mark, Dave, and Tim, had insisted, though. They promised it would be one last hurrah before they all grew too old for such childish endeavors. Max sighed, pulling his hoodie tighter around him. He was the only one without a costume, not feeling the spirit of the holiday anymore.

The trio of pirates strutted ahead of him, their costumes as cheap and uninspired as their pranks. The plastic swords slapped against their thighs with every step, and their eye patches were askew. They were a cliché, a walking stereotype of teenage boys trying too hard to recapture the thrill of their youth. Max couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for them. He knew they were just as lost as he was, trying to fill the void with the echoes of past fun. But the magic was gone, replaced by a hollowness that no amount of sugar could fill.

He stopped being friends with them at the beginning of Middle School. Whereas Max did everything he could to mature, the three of them were far too immature. They were troublemakers and the summer before 6th grade, they nearly all landed in Juvie. It was that scare that drove Max away from them. It was also around that time when his Mom got sick. He found more important things than to fool around with his idiot friends.

Now here they were at the end of Middle School and the three of them were still as childish as ever.

"Come on, Max!" Mark called out, tossing an egg into the air and catching it again. His grin was wide and mischievous. "We've got a whole night of pranks ahead of us. You're gonna miss out if you keep moping around like that!"

Dave and Tim egged him on, their laughter bouncing off the quiet streets like a taunt. Max felt a sigh build in his chest, but he swallowed it down. He knew better than to argue. He had agreed to come out with them, so he might as well go along for the ride. Plus, he was curious to see what kind of trouble they'd get themselves into this time.

He didn't plan to participate though. He learned that lesson the last time. Shoving his hands into his oversized hoodie---a hand-me-down from his older brother---Max tried his best to be as invisible as possible.

The night began with the usual: overturned trash cans, soaped-covered windows, and a few eggs thrown at the principal's house. Max hovered on the fringes, watching them with a mix of amusement and dread. Each prank was executed with the precision of a military operation, yet the joy they once brought him was nowhere to be found. The thrill had faded, leaving only the cold reality of potential retribution.

As they moved deeper into the night, the pranks grew bolder. They snuck into Mrs. Jenkins' yard and rearranged her garden gnomes in compromising positions. The old woman had a penchant for the peculiar, so it was always a hit. Max chuckled despite himself, remembering the time she had chased them with a broom, her laughter as infectious as their own. But tonight, the giggles felt forced, the mischief hollow.

Their next target was Mr. Thompson's house. He was the grumpy old man who had once confiscated their bikes for riding too fast down the street. They'd painted them green and returned them with a glitter bomb hidden in the handlebars. The memory brought a smirk to Max's lips, but the joy was fleeting. As they approached the darkened house, he felt his stomach clench. They were too old for this crap. The thrill of the chase had been replaced with the bitter taste of potential consequences.

Cops could be called now and no amount of "kids will be kids" could talk them out of severe punishment.

Max watched as the others painted a giant phallus on Mr. Thompson's garage door with shaving cream. It was a prank they'd done countless times before, but tonight it felt... wrong. They weren't the same kids they used to be, not since the world had changed so much around them. The weight of their impending teenagehood pressed down on them like a lead blanket, and Max couldn't shake the feeling that their actions had real repercussions waiting just around the corner.

"Let's hit Miss Moore's place next".

Max's heart skipped a beat. Miss Moore was a quiet woman who kept to herself, living in a large house at the edge of town. The whispers and rumors about her had grown over the years like ivy on a crumbling brick wall. Her house was a relic, a two-story Victorian monstrosity that had seen better days. It loomed over the neighborhood, shrouded in shadow and mystery, a stark contrast to the neatly trimmed lawns and well-lit porches that surrounded it. No one ever went there. Not even the bravest of kids dared to knock on her door on Halloween. But tonight, the trio had decided to push their luck.

The house was a sight to behold, with its peeling paint and crooked shutters. The overgrown garden was a maze of dead plants and twisted branches that reached out like skeletal fingers. The moon cast an eerie glow over the property, highlighting the cobwebs that clung to the porch like ghosts caught in a breeze. Max had heard the whispers at school, the tall tales of Miss Moore turning misbehaving children into frogs or making their hair fall out. He didn't believe in witches, but he couldn't shake the unease that clung to him like the sticky residue of a spider's web.

The other three approached the house with a mix of excitement and trepidation, their eyes wide with the thrill of the forbidden. Max held back, his heart pounding in his chest. This was his mother's friend they were about to deface. He'd heard stories of their laughter, their shared love for gardening, and the quiet comfort they had found in each other's company. He didn't have the heart to tell them that though.

Mark tossed the egg in the air, his grin fading slightly as he caught it again. "You coming, Max?"

Max took a deep breath and nodded, stepping forward reluctantly. He didn't want to be the party pooper, but a sinking feeling in his gut told him this was a mistake. "Just do it and go," he murmured, trying to ignore the guilt that whispered through his mind.

This was so stupid.

Max hovered in the shadows as the others approached Miss Moore's house. His heart raced like a rabbit's in a snare. He knew he should've said something, done something to stop them. But the words were lodged in his throat, heavy and unmovable. He watched from the safety of the darkness as Mark, Dave, and Tim tiptoed across the cracked walkway, their shadows stretching out like ghosts before them. They whispered to each other, their excitement palpable. Max felt his palms sweat, his heart thudded in his chest.

The egg smashed against the garage door with a sickening splatter, the yolk running down like a teardrop of regret. The sound seemed to echo through the night, too loud, too real. Max flinched, his eyes darting to the windows of the house, expecting the lights to flicker on and the curtains to part, revealing the wrathful glare of a witch. But the house remained still, silent as a tomb, and the only movement was the gentle sway of the cobwebs in the moonlight.

The boys high-fived each other, their laughter ringing out like a taunt to the sleeping neighborhood. Max's stomach churned. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. But he remained hidden in the shadows, a silent witness to their juvenile folly. It was better this way, he told himself. He didn't need to be a part of this. He had his own demons to face without inviting more trouble into his life.

With one last look at the egg-splattered garage door, Max turned to leave, the crunch of leaves under his sneakers the only sound in the stillness of the night. But as he took his first step, the world seemed to tilt. A looming form materialized before him, tall and cloaked in darkness, blocking his path. His heart stuttered in his chest, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The laughter of his former friends faded into the background as he stared into the abyss that was Miss Moore.

Her eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, piercing through the shadows and locking onto his. The woman was no longer the quiet neighbor from his mother's stories but a terrifying specter of wrath. Her long raven hair danced around her face in the cold breeze, and she was dressed in a flowing gown that whispered of ancient secrets. Despite the fear that gripped him, Max couldn't help but think she was beautiful, even as she bore the weight of the neighborhood's fear and suspicion.

Miss Moore stepped closer, the hem of her gown brushing the leaves beneath her feet, making no sound. Her skin was pale as the moon above, and she had a smile that was both alluring and terrifying. It was as if she knew every dark thought that had ever crossed his mind, every lie he had told, every time he had chosen fear over courage.

"Maxwell, I did not expect to find you as one of the hooligans tonight" she said, her voice cold and chill inducing.

Max's heart pounded like a drum in his chest. He hadn't expected Miss Moore to recognize him, let alone be out here to confront them. She was like a myth, a creature of the night that didn't actually interact with anyone.

"I'm not sure why either" he said softly, most to himself but it was clear she heard him.

Her gaze was piercing, the kind that made Max feel like a bug under a microscope. "The babysitter of these buffoons?" she sighed, stepping around him.

He was frozen in place, too scared to move or utter another word.

The others were still laughing, their laughter echoing through the night air like a taunt to the slumbering street. They had no clue of the storm they had just woken. Max's heart was hammering in his chest like a wild beast trying to escape a cage. He couldn't believe his eyes. Miss Moore, the woman he had always thought of as a gentle soul, had transformed into a creature of the night, a guardian of the shadows come to mete out punishment for their thoughtless actions.

He watched in horror as her gaze turned to the trio of pirates, her eyes narrowing into slits. The laughter died on their lips, their grins fading as the reality of the situation set in. They had crossed a line, one that Max had hoped they'd never find. The line between innocent pranks and something far darker.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the night like a knife.

The trio of pirates stumbled over their words, tripping over their excuses like they were tangled in their own toilet paper. Max could see the fear in their eyes, the same fear that had kept the neighborhood children from her doorstep every Halloween. Mark, Dave, and Tim had always been the brave ones, the leaders of the pack, but now they were trembling before her like leafy shadows in a storm.

Miss Moore's smile grew colder, the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "You think this is a joke?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous. "You think defacing my home is entertainment?"

The three pirates shrank under her gaze, their bravado evaporating like mist in the sun. Max felt a flicker of fear, not just for them but for himself. He had gone along with this, had allowed them to drag him into their mess. He should have said something, done something, to stop them.

Miss Moore's voice was icy as she spoke again, "Follow me, all of you. We're going to have a little chat about respect and consequences."

Max felt a shiver run down his spine as she turned and glided towards the house, her gown trailing behind her like a shadow. He didn't know if he should be more scared of the wrath of an angry neighbor or the fact that she was treating this like an invitation to a tea party from hell. The three pirates looked at each other, their eyes wide with terror.

"Come along," she called out, her voice sweet but the edge of danger was unmistakable.

The three idiot pirates mumbled amongst themselves as they trailed behind her. Max was just in earshot to hear their attempts at coming up with an escape:

"Dude, we're so dead."

Max's heart hammered in his chest as he watched Miss Moore lead Mark, Dave, and Tim up the creaking porch stairs and into her house. The door swung open without a creak, as if it had been expecting them. He knew he should leave, should run back to the safety of his own home, but his feet remained rooted to the spot, his curiosity piqued despite the fear clawing at his gut.

He took a tentative step closer, peering through the open doorway. The house was not the cobweb-infested lair he had imagined. Instead, it was surprisingly clean, with a modern flair that seemed to clash with the outside's Victorian facade. The walls were adorned with sleek black and white photographs, and the floorboards gleamed in the moonlight that streamed through the windows. There was something almost... sterile about the place.

Miss Moore gestured for them to sit in the living room, her movements graceful despite the tension that hung in the air. The couches were plush and new, the kind that looked like no one had ever sat on them. The room was eerily silent, the only sound the occasional tick of a clock that was hidden somewhere in the shadows.

"So," she began, her eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement, "what do you boys expect me to do now?"

They looked at each other, the bravado from earlier now replaced with wide-eyed terror. Mark was the first to speak up, his voice shaking like a leaf in the wind, "We didn't mean any harm, Miss Moore. We were just messing around."

"Messing around?" she asked, incredulously. "You're too old for this. I expect better from the sons of this town."

"We're still kids!" Dave pleaded, trying his best to talk his way out of the cops being called.

Miss Moore smirked, her gaze flickering to each of their faces. "Children, huh?" she mused, before gesturing to a tray of cookies and a steaming pitcher of milk she had set out on the coffee table. "Then please, have some treats. It is All Hallow's Eve after all"

The trio looked at each other, hope sparkling in their eyes. Maybe she wasn't so bad, they thought. Maybe she was just playing with them. They reached for the cookies, greedily stuffing them into their mouths without a care for the mess they had made. Max hovered in the doorway, unsure if he should join them or bolt.

Miss Moore's amusement grew as she poured each of them a glass of milk, her movements smooth and deliberate. Max couldn't shake the feeling that she was watching a bunch of mice in a maze she had built for her own amusement. He took a step back, his hand on the doorknob, ready to bolt if things took a turn for the worse.

"Sugar cookies and spiced milk, everything nice" she mused.

Miss Moore watched as the three of them took the bait without a second thought. The smell of the cookies was heavenly, but Max's instincts told him to stay back. His suspicion grew stronger with every second that passed, his mind racing with the worst-case scenarios. The house was eerily silent except for the sound of crunching cookies and slurping milk.

It was as if time had slowed to a crawl as he watched Dave's hand fly to his stomach, his eyes wide with pain and surprise. The other two looked at him in confusion before the same expression took over their faces. They dropped to the floor, writhing in agony, their cries piercing the stillness of the night. Max's heart raced as he took a step back, his hand still clutching the doorknob.

Dave's body began to shrink before their eyes, his features softening, his limbs growing smaller, more delicate. His clothes, the same pirate garb they had worn with pride, began to melt away, revealing skin that grew paler by the second. The fabric of his costume reformed around him, twisting into a pink ballerina tutu that settled onto a new, smaller frame. The transformation was grotesque, a twisted parody of puberty, as his body shifted from that of a teenage boy to a little girl's.

Mark and Tim stared in horror as their friend's face morphed into a scared, innocent visage, his eyes wide with pain and confusion. Max could only watch, his hand still clutching the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white. The room grew colder, the air thick with the scent of something ancient and unnatural. Miss Moore's smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with a dark amusement as she observed the spectacle she had wrought.

Miss Moore waved her hand in front of the little girl's face. "Sleep, sweetie"

The new Dave fell asleep instantly.

Miss Moore turned her gaze to Mark and Tim, who were paralyzed with fear, their eyes like saucers in their heads. Max's heart raced as he watched her walk towards them, her steps echoing in the silent room.

"And what about you two?" she said, her voice a purr. "Do you think this is funny?"

Mark and Tim looked at each other, the color draining from their faces. They hadn't meant for it to go this far, they hadn't meant to hurt anyone. "No, Miss Moore," Mark managed to croak out, his hand already reaching for his stomach. "It's just a prank, we didn't mean—"

But before he could finish his sentence, the pain hit him like a ton of bricks. His body contorted, and he doubled over, his face a mask of agony. Tim looked on in horror, his own hand shooting to his gut as the same transformation began to take hold. Max watched, his heart in his throat, as his two friends crumpled to the floor, their bodies twisting and contorting.

Within moments, Mark lay unconscious beside Dave, now dressed in a frilly cheerleader's uniform, his muscles and height replaced with the soft curves of a young girl. His pirate hat had transformed into a jaunty bow that perched on his head like a sad little crown. Tim's pirate attire had been replaced by a shimmering pink dress and a tiara, turning him into a tiny, trembling princess. Max couldn't believe what he was seeing. This was no mere prank gone wrong; it was something far more sinister.

"Sleep now sweeties" said Miss Moore, waving her hand and putting the two new girls to sleep just like she did with Dave.

Her eyes then turned to Max, and she tilted her head slightly to the side, "But you, my dear," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and something else Max couldn't quite place, "You are different."

"Different?" he asked, not sure what she meant.

"Yes, very different....Amy".

Amy? How could she know that name. No one knew that name, no one except his mother. His Mom would never share their secret though, she made a promise. A promise she took to her grave. Besides, it was nothing now. He stopped it after his Mom got sick. He decided to be realistic and except that the world was a twisted and cruel place. He'd been born in the wrong gender and his mother wanted to help him reach his true potential, help him become her daughter.

The thing was, his Dad wasn't too keen on that kind of thing. He wasn't a bad person but he was set in his ways. He had a lot of outdated and stupid ideas. So they did the mother and daughter thing in secret for years. They only stopped after his Mom got sick. There were more important things to worry about he had told himself.

"I know what you're thinking" she said, giving him warm smile. "Your mother didn't sell you out but she didn't lie to us either."

"Us?" he asked, confused.

Miss Moore smiled. "Her Coven sweetie"

She waved her hand and the door behind them slammed shut.

Coven? Aren't Covens for...

"Witches, right" said Miss Moore, pouring herself some tea. "Your mother and I met in college. We met Trudy a few years later. Magic runs in the family, Amy. Unfortunately it only passes from mother to daughter. Had you been born female, she would have brought you into the fold"

Max felt his heart drop. This is how the world works.

"Its ok" he said then looked quickly to his sleeping friends. He felt a pang of jealousy. "Are you going too?" he asked, slightly hopeful.

She laughed and shook her head. "You did nothing wrong after all"

He was crestfallen. It was his one chance and yet.

"I don't punish those who don't need to be punished, Amy" she said, pouring another cup of tea. "I do however award those who I feel life has wronged"

Her words didn't make sense to Max, not until she handed him the cup of tea. It was sweet and spicy, the same way his Mom used to make it. The warmth spread through his body like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night.

"Drink up," she urged gently.

Max took the cup of tea, his hands trembling. He didn't know what was in it, but something told him it was his ticket out of this nightmare. He took a sip, and the warmth spread through him, filling him with a sense of comfort that was so familiar, it was almost painful. The taste was like his mother's kiss, a blend of love and protection. He downed the tea in one gulp, and almost immediately, the transformation began.

He doubled over, the pain shooting through him like a lightning bolt. His body contorted, his muscles shrinking, his skin softening, and his clothes stretching and changing. The fabric of his shirt and jeans shifted and flowed, morphing into a long, flowing black dress. His sneakers became shiny black boots with a slight heel, and a pointed hat appeared on his head as if by magic. He felt his hair grow longer, cascading down his back in a wave of golden blonde.

Miss Moore's laugh grew louder, the sound grating against his ears. "Look at yourself, Amy," she said, her voice full of happiness and content.

She moved the new girl to look at herself in the mirror. Amy was shocked. She was no longer Max, she was a teen girl now.

"How? Why?"

"It was your mother's dying wish. She wanted you to become the girl that she knew you were inside. We actually spent weeks preparing the spell. I was meant to visit you sometime next month but those three over pushed the time table up."

"What about them?" asked the new teen girl.

Miss Moore waved it off. "It will last about a month. Hopefully it will teach those three some valuable lessons. In the end, it should curb their immaturity and force them to grow up"

"What am I supposed to do? What about my Dad and everything..."

"Tonight you're the babysitter. Tomorrow you're whoever you want to be. Your spell is permanent. We saw to that. The world has been changed, its as if Amy Sullivan has always existed. When those three turn back eventually, you'll find you're barely friends. They're bad influences after all"

Amy couldn't help but nod.

"Now then, how about I wake them up and you take them home after a long night of Trick or Treating and tomorrow you come back here so we can begin."

"Begin what?"

"The rest of your life, sweetie" said the witch, leaning down and kissing Amy on the forehead.

The new teen girl smiled. She could definitely live with that.

The End?

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF