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With a lollipop as my only consolation, I stared at the witch as she retreated down the old tunnel.
Her eyes as black as night pierced my soul.
Suddenly, a shiver ran down my spine.
The thump of her broom on the back of my neck began to burn with unearthly intensity.
My friends laughed, oblivious to my torment.
That night, a raspy, spectral voice whispered in my ears: ‘You should never have made fun of a real witch.
The next day, I woke up transformed into a deformed, crawling being.
Since then, lurking in the shadows, I spit my venom at those who dare to board the Terror Train.
