Kevin had already made his Halloween costume with his mom, helped his dad put up decorations around their house, and dreamed about all the candy he would collect. But there was one house on his street that didn’t have any decorations, and it kept bothering him. He couldn’t understand why someone would skip celebrating, so he figured maybe they needed a little help.
Halloween was just around the corner, and the whole neighborhood was filled with excitement. Every yard seemed to be competing to be the scariest one on the block.
Pumpkins with sharp, grinning faces lined the sidewalks, plastic skeletons swung from trees, and fake spider webs covered front porches.
The air smelled like dry leaves and candy, and eleven-year-old Kevin soaked it all in, his heart racing with excitement.
Halloween was Kevin’s favorite day of the year—a day when you could be whoever you wanted. He loved how everything seemed to change for one magical night.
As he walked down the sidewalk, his eyes moved from one house to another, each one decorated with glowing jack-o’-lanterns or spooky ghosts. Kevin couldn’t help but smile.
Some houses even played creepy sound effects like witches cackling or doors creaking.
But as he went farther down the street, something didn’t look right.
One house stood dark and empty, totally different from the others. No pumpkins, cobwebs, or skeletons. Not even a tiny decoration. Kevin frowned when he realized whose house it was—Mrs. Kimbly’s.
He stopped, staring at her bare front porch. Mrs. Kimbly was an older lady who lived alone and kept to herself. Kevin had helped her before, mowing her lawn in the summer and shoveling snow in the winter. She never said much, just paid him and went back inside.
But today, her undecorated house didn’t fit in with the rest of the cheerful neighborhood.
Why hadn’t Mrs. Kimbly decorated for Halloween? Kevin couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Halloween was about having fun, and it didn’t seem fair for anyone to miss out, especially someone who lived alone like Mrs. Kimbly.
Kevin’s heart felt heavy. Maybe she just needed help. Maybe she couldn’t decorate by herself.
Determined, Kevin ran across the street to her house. The leaves crunched under his feet as he climbed her porch steps.
He paused for a moment, then knocked. The sound echoed, and Kevin felt nervous. Finally, the door creaked open.
Mrs. Kimbly stood there, frowning, her eyes squinting behind her glasses.
“What do you want, Kevin?” she asked in a low, sharp voice.
Kevin swallowed. “Hi, Mrs. Kimbly. I noticed your house isn’t decorated for Halloween, and I thought maybe you forgot. I could help you put some decorations up if you’d like.”
Mrs. Kimbly squinted even more. “I didn’t forget,” she snapped. “I don’t need decorations, and I don’t need help. Now, go away.” She started to close the door.
“I could do it for free!” Kevin quickly added. “You wouldn’t even have to do anything.”
Mrs. Kimbly scowled. “No!” she shouted and slammed the door.
Kevin couldn’t believe it. How could someone hate Halloween so much?
If her house stayed undecorated, other kids might prank her with toilet paper or worse. Kevin sighed and started walking away, but a plan formed in his mind.
At home, Kevin found his mom in the kitchen, cooking. The smell of soup filled the air, but Kevin could only think about Mrs. Kimbly’s undecorated house.
“Mom, something weird happened,” Kevin said, sitting at the table. His mom turned, wiping her hands on a towel.
“What is it?” she asked.
Kevin told her about Mrs. Kimbly’s house and how she had slammed the door when he offered to help.
But when he said Mrs. Kimbly’s name, his mom’s face softened.
“Maybe it’s best to leave her alone,” his mom said gently. “She might be going through something we don’t understand.”
Kevin frowned. “But, Mom, she’s not mad, she’s just sad. Halloween should be fun. She shouldn’t feel left out.”
His mom smiled but looked concerned. “You have a kind heart, Kevin. Just be careful. Sometimes people aren’t ready for help.”
Those words stuck with Kevin, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Kimbly.
With determination, he gathered all the Halloween decorations he could find—lights, spiders, toys, and even his favorite pumpkin—and loaded them into a wagon.
He hurried back to Mrs. Kimbly’s house and began decorating. As he worked, the house slowly transformed, but just as he finished, the door creaked open.
Mrs. Kimbly stormed out, looking furious.
“I told you not to decorate my house!” she shouted.
Kevin froze, his heart racing. “I just wanted to help,” he whispered. “It’s Halloween…”
Before he could finish, Mrs. Kimbly grabbed the pumpkin he had carved and smashed it on the ground.
Kevin watched in shock as his pumpkin shattered into pieces. His heart sank.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then turned and ran home.
That evening, Kevin put on his vampire costume, but he couldn’t enjoy Halloween.
As he trick-or-treated with friends, his mind kept drifting back to Mrs. Kimbly’s dark house.
He worried the other kids might prank her, so Kevin decided to go back.
When he got to her house, he sat on her porch, handing out his own candy to the kids who came by.
“Mrs. Kimbly’s not home,” he told them, trying to keep her house safe.
After a while, as Kevin sat alone, the door behind him opened. Mrs. Kimbly stepped out, her face no longer angry.
“What are you doing here, Kevin?” she asked quietly.
“I didn’t want anyone to mess with your house,” Kevin said. “I just wanted to help.”
Mrs. Kimbly sighed and sat beside him. She was quiet for a moment, watching the kids on the street.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” she finally said. “I wasn’t mad at you. Halloween just reminds me of how alone I am.”
Kevin felt sad. “You don’t have to be alone,” he said. “You can still join in.”
Mrs. Kimbly smiled softly, her eyes teary. “Thank you for what you did today. And I’m sorry about your pumpkin.”
Kevin smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll bring another one, and we can carve it together.”
For the first time in years, Mrs. Kimbly felt the warmth of Halloween again, thanks to one kind boy.
Sales Assistant Insults My Wife—You Won’t Believe the Revenge I Got Days Later
Recently, my lovely wife decided to turn her love for fashion into a career. She started looking for jobs in retail, thinking it would be a perfect match for her interests.
One afternoon, she came home upset and told me what had happened. Emma explained that earlier that day, she had gone to the shopping center.
While walking around, she noticed a popular lingerie store with a “Now Hiring” sign in the window.
She shared how her excitement quickly faded when she approached the sales assistant to ask about the job.
The rude woman didn’t even look at my wife until she was standing right in front of her. Despite feeling a bit discouraged, Emma still asked about the application process with enthusiasm. Instead of answering kindly, the assistant gave her a nasty look and said:
When Emma got home, she was in tears, heartbroken by the cruel remark. I had never seen her so devastated before, and it shattered me to see her like that.
Over the next few days, I came up with a plan. I called my friend Mike, who works in the fashion industry, and told him what had happened. Mike was eager to help.
“That’s unbelievable,” Mike said on the phone. “I’ll help you out. Let’s give her a taste of her own medicine.” A few days later, I got ready and went back to the lingerie store with Emma’s help.
I made sure the same sales assistant was working that day. I started browsing the aisles, waiting for the right moment. When the store was quiet, I approached the assistant with a friendly smile.
“Hello, I’m looking for something special for my wife. Can you help me?” I asked. Her attitude changed immediately when she saw a potential sale. She became very helpful and started showing me different items.
“Of course, sir! We have a fantastic selection. What’s the occasion?” she asked sweetly. “Just a surprise for my wife. I want to get her something really special,” I replied, acting thoughtful.
How about this piece? It’s one of our bestsellers,” she suggested, holding up a delicate lace set. “Do you think this would look good on her?” I asked, examining the lingerie. “Oh, definitely! It’s one of our top items. She’ll love it,” she assured me.
“Can you show me a few more options? I want to make sure I get the perfect one,” I said, keeping her engaged. As she showed me more pieces, I made small talk to keep her interested. “How long have you worked here?” I asked.
“About six months,” she replied. “It’s a great job if you have the right look for it.” I nodded, pretending to be interested. “Do they hire often?”
“Only when they really need someone. They’re picky about who they hire,” she said with a touch of pride.
I wrapped my arms around her, trying to comfort her. “My love, don’t listen to her. You’re beautiful and talented, and you’re worth so much more than her words,” I told her softly. “But why would she say that?” Emma sobbed. “I just wanted to apply for a job. I didn’t deserve that.”
“She’s small-minded, my angel,” I said, trying to console her. Seeing her so sad made me FURIOUS! No one should ever treat my wife like that and think they can get away with it!
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