A bereaved mother is startled when kids arrive on her doorstep trick-or-treating in her dead son’s Halloween costumes. She immediately checks his room and is in for a tear-jerking surprise.
“Please give it a thought, Mrs. Brown. You cannot always escape this time of the year. You have to overcome it, and this is the only way out. You need to celebrate Halloween or at least decorate your house,” the psychologist told Rosemary, 37.
Rosemary’s eyes brimmed with tears as she pressed her chin on her knuckles. She was nervous. “Will I be able to do it? Will it help me not think about what happened to my son on that Halloween?” she thought.
Rosemary shyly smiled and got up to leave the clinic. She headed to the market to buy décor. Though she did not feel like celebrating the holiday, she followed the doctor’s advice.
It had been three years since Rosemary and her son Dave carved fleshy pumpkins into glowering jack-o’-lanterns. It had been three hellish years since Rosemary lost Dave on the morning of Halloween, and his death still kept haunting her…
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Lucas, Rosemary’s husband, was surprised when he came home on All Hallows Eve. He had been out of town on a business trip and was astonished when he saw his house fully decorated with the Halloween spirit.
“Rose, hey…hey…” he exclaimed as he entered the door, holding big boxes of stuff he’d shopped from the city. “I’m so happy you’re doing this. I’m sure our son would be happy to see you smiling after a very long time.”
Lucas kissed Rosemary before leaving to freshen up. Tears rolled down Rosemary’s face as she fixed the light into the jack-o’-lantern. It was Dave’s favorite part of the festival. He always placed bets with his friends about who had the funkiest jack-o’-lantern.
Rosemary’s house that day looked so beautiful and all set for a perfect Halloween. It caught everyone’s eye, especially one gang of kids on the street.
Those we love do not truly leave us. There are certain things death can never touch.
They couldn’t help but think Rosemary’s decorated house was a signal inviting them over for a trick-or-treat. They had never visited Rosemary’s house on Halloween before, so seeing her house ready for the holiday tempted them.
The kids marched to Rosemary’s house in costumes that would go on to make the bereaving mother burst into tears.
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Just as Rosemary readied the table for dinner and was wiping the crockery, she heard a loud knock on the door. She answered the door and turned pale with shock seeing a group of happy little children chiming, “Trick or treat!”
Rosemary could not believe her eyes. She recognized the costumes the kids were wearing. She had exclusively sewn them for Dave three years ago for Halloween, but he never got to wear them. He died in an accident while crossing the road the morning of All Hallows Eve.
Rosemary was shaken. She clasped the door and gaped at the children from head to toe.
“That embroidery… those buttons and skeleton paintings on the shirt… Dave asked me to do a patchwork resembling cobwebs on his witch hat… And these pumpkin buttons… ‘D’ for Dave… I sewed them myself. What is going on? How did they get my son’s Halloween costumes from his room?” Rosemary thought.
“It cannot be.”
Rosemary quickly gave the kids some candies and ran to her son’s room. She pulled out a trunk from under the bed and opened it. Dave’s Halloween costumes were not there.
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Rosemary was startled. She started sweating and sat on the floor, crying. “Who took them? Who gave my Dave’s clothes to those kids?”
She looked up and saw the state of her late son’s room. It looked different and empty. Almost all his items were missing, including his favorite shoe collection, posters, and even superhero toys. Rosemary peeped into his wardrobe and only found empty hangers.
Everything was intact when she checked Dave’s room a month ago. She never gave away a thing there because she wanted to preserve everything in memory of her dead son. So seeing Dave’s room in a near-empty state puzzled her. Rosemary could not understand what was going on and immediately called Lucas.
“Everything is missing. I see nothing here that belonged to our son. Darling, what’s going on? Who took Dave’s things from here?”
That’s when Rosemary sensed a weird hesitation on Lucas’ face. He could not look her in the eye and simply walked away.
“Lucas, what’s going on? Why aren’t you saying anything? Where are my son’s things? And why are those kids wearing his Halloween costumes?”
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Rosemary followed Lucas to the kitchen where she found him staring at the plain wall.
“Darling, what’s going on? Why are you silent? I’m going crazy. Can someone please tell me what’s happening in this house?”
Lucas turned around, tears streaming down his face. He hugged Rosemary and made a confession.
“Sweetie, I know how much Dave means to us even now. But I could not see you destroyed like this,” he began.
“Once, I visited the shelter at the end of this street with my friend. The little boys there reminded me of our son. So I gave away all his stuff to them. Whenever I see those kids in our son’s shirt, pants, or even shoes, I see Dave, not some strange random kid.”
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Rosemary burst into tears. “So, were those kids who came trick or treating to our house from the shelter?”
“Yes, they are! On my way home this evening, I saw them wearing the costumes you’d made for Dave. I was so happy and invited them to our home for some candies, hoping you would be happy to see them.”
Rosemary threw herself into Lucas’s arms and began to cry.
“Thank you so much, darling. You have no idea what you did today!”
“I did?” Lucas was puzzled, seeing a strange glow in his wife’s eyes.
“Yes! One of those little boys looked just like our son Dave. I think this is what destiny wanted us to do…to adopt him and bring him home as our son!”
Lucas and Rosemary were so delighted, they quickly began the paperwork to adopt Tom, the little boy who reminded Rosemary of the late Dave. They brought him home six months later.
Ever since Tom arrived, Rosemary was never sad again. She, Lucas, and Tom lived a life of dreams and happiness together. They also helped the other children in the shelter find loving homes.
A year later…again on Halloween…
“Mama, look…my jack-o’-lantern…you like it?” Tom asked Rosemary, showing a gorgeous jack-o’-lantern he’d made. Rosemary shed tears of joy as she realized Tom was none but a gift her late son Dave had sent from heaven.
“It’s beautiful, darling! It reminds me of someone dear to me!” she cried and hugged the boy as they got ready for the evening.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
What can we learn from this story?
- Those we love do not truly leave us. There are certain things death can never touch. After losing her son Dave, Rosemary was devastated. She had never celebrated Halloween for three years since the day marked her beloved son’s death. However, she would later learn that her son wasn’t truly gone when she meets a young boy who resembles Dave and becomes part of their family.
- Embrace your grief and move on. No sorrow is permanent unless you choose to stick to it. It took Rosemary three years to embrace her grief and move on from her son’s loss. Although she was never entirely out of it, she sought solace in her adopted son Tom.
My Parents Arranged a Marriage for Me, So I Decided to Test My Wealthy Fiancé
When Nadia returns home from college abroad, she has no choice but to agree to an arranged marriage to a wealthy man—a man chosen by her parents. But as the tentative date for their wedding draws closer, Nadia decides to test him, to truly understand who she’s marrying.
I never imagined that I’d find myself disguised as a homeless woman, sitting on a sidewalk outside of a restaurant. I sat there, hunched with a shawl wrapped around my shoulders.
A woman sitting on the floor | Source: Pexels
People passed me without paying any attention, as I watched for the sleek black car that often carried my fiancé, Danny.
Despite it being the 21st century, in my culture, arranged marriage still holds its own.
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But I had been studying in America for the past four years, and my ideal of independence and personal freedom was something very different from what I had left home with.
Now, I found myself rebelling at every turn.
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When my parents first broke the news of my engagement to Danny, I was still ensconced in the States—my mind buzzing with new ideologies and lectures on autonomy.
“Now that you’ve been abroad and have studied,” my mother said, “it’s time for you to become a wife.”
I tried to protest, but it always fell on deaf ears.
A smiling woman in a white dress | Source: Pexels
“Nadia,” my mother said, “there is no choice here. Your father and I have done our research. Danny is a good one. He will take care of you.”
My mother moved around the kitchen, mixing a concoction of spices as she began to cook dinner.
Assorted cooking spices | Source: Pexels
“And that’s just it?” I asked, making some tea. “I have to marry this man?”
She nodded and smiled at me.
“Nadia, your father and I did it—we had an arranged marriage, and everything turned out well for us.”
A bride and groom holding hands | Source: Pexels
Now, I was faced with meeting a stranger whom I was going to marry—a stranger and his affluent family.
“You’re going to meet him soon, and his family. They own a line of restaurants, darling. They’re always going out of their way to help people.”
Restaurant interior | Source: Pexels
A few days later, we were all settled around the dining table. It was the first time that I was meeting Danny, and I had no idea what to expect.
When I stepped out of the house, he was there in the driveway, dressed in a suit—holding a gift bag and flowers.
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On first impression, he was good-looking, but I needed him to be more than just a nice face to look at.
This man was going to be my husband. I was stuck with him. And judging from the way my parents were behaving, I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
A man wearing a suit | Source: Pexels
As my father welcomed Danny and his parents into our home, my mother brought out a tray of tea and sweets.
“I didn’t know what you’d like,” she said, “so I got everything.”
Tea on a tray | Source: Unsplash
Danny smiled at her; he seemed to genuinely care about impressing my parents. We exchanged polite conversation during the tea, and when it was time for us to have dinner, we sat around the table.
“Danny,” my father said, pointing to the head of the table, “sit here.”
My mother began to fuss over Danny and his family, ensuring that she piled their plates high with food.
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“I need you to leave here knowing that you’ve been fed,” she said.
I poured myself a glass of juice. It was going to be a long meal.
“Why did you decide to study in America?” Danny asked me, frowning over his glass of water. “Didn’t you want to stay around family?”
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“I applied not thinking that I could get in,” I admitted. “But then I did, and I wanted it to be a new challenge for me.”
“But being away for so long?” he pressed. “I bet you spent time in the library.”
“It was just four years. I came home a few times anyway.”
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“Family is very important to me, Nadia,” he said firmly.
I looked at my mother, who refused to meet my eye. Without me replying to Danny, the silence took over for a few moments. Only the sound of scraping cutlery and chewing could be heard.
A woman eating | Source: Unsplash
“Tell Nadia about your charity,” my father said, beaming at me.
“Oh!” Danny’s mother exclaimed, quickly putting her fork down.
She went on at length about how Danny feeds homeless people all the time, and that he had scheduled a roster for different areas around us.
Bags of food | Source: Unsplash
“Nobody will go hungry if we can help it,” Danny’s mother said.
My goodness, I thought to myself as I dug into my chicken. Do I really need to bear this for the rest of my life?
The dinner ended, and my husband-to-be left the house.
A plate of food | Source: Unsplash
“Don’t you love him?” my mother asked as we washed up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.
“I don’t know him, Mom,” I said.
“But you will,” she replied, drying the plates with a dish towel. “You will get to know him soon.”
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I didn’t have the energy to deal with it further. I went to my bedroom and sat down, wondering how I could just give in to tradition after having been away and free for so long.
I yearned for my college dorm and the liberation that had come with it. But I also knew that I would have to let go of that.
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Instead, I had to wait for the day of my arranged marriage. As the months closed in, the wedding drew closer, and I began to get anxious—needing pills to sleep.
I didn’t know how I was going to marry Danny, knowing only the bare minimum about him.
One morning, while pouring myself some cereal, I decided that I would dress like a homeless person and wait outside the restaurant that Danny was based at. I needed to see how he would react to someone in need.
A bowl of cereal | Source: Pexels
As the car approached, I huddled into my disguise, my voice hoarse as Danny stepped out of the car.
“Excuse me, Sir,” I said. “Could you spare…”
Danny paused, his brows furrowing slightly.
“Ma’am, what do you need? I can’t just hand you money or food for the day. We need to help you long-term.”
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My heart tightened.
“There’s a shelter not far from here,” he said. “I can take you there, my mother volunteers there, too. You’ll be safe there. You can get a meal, a shower, clean clothing, and we can talk about getting you on your feet.”
I stood up and pulled my shawl away, revealing myself to him.
“Nadia?” he exclaimed, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
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“I was testing you, Danny,” I said. “I wanted to see if you really are the person they say you are. I just needed to know. How else can I marry you?”
Danny looked stunned, then a wry smile spread across his face.
“I guess I should be honest too, then. I’ve been horrible on purpose, hoping you’d call off the wedding.”
His candidness took me aback.
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“Why would you do that?” I asked.
Danny sighed, running a hand through his hair as he silenced his ringing phone.
“Because I thought it was all a farce. I didn’t want to be part of an arrangement. Not really. I knew that it needed to be done, because of my age. But I’ve wanted love. I’ve wanted to marry for love.”
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As we sat down on a nearby bench, Danny opened up about his past.
“The parents you met are my adopted parents. My mother died when I was very young, and they took me in. I’ve built my entire persona to help people who are where I once was. It’s not just philanthropy—it’s personal.”
His words echoed in the cold air—each syllable heavy with emotion.
“Yes, I am successful. But I never wanted to use that success as leverage for a marriage. I wanted someone to see me, not my money or my past.”
Flowers on a grave | Source: Pexels
We talked through the evening, unraveling the misunderstandings and the pressure from our families. It was the first time we truly connected, seeing each other beyond the expectations set upon us.
In the weeks that followed, we began dating—real dates, filled with genuine laughter and shared dreams. Our parents saw the change in us, the way we looked at each other with newfound respect and affection.
Soon, we’ll be married, but now, I’m content with the reality of it.
A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one:
When Elle’s mother passes away, she moves through the funeral in a daze. But then, she stumbles upon a man who closely resembles her. When he approaches her, he reveals that he is her biological father—who had been hidden away all this time. Elle doesn’t know whether she should tell her father and risk losing the only other parent she has ever known.
Read the full story here.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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