Back.

And finally, the last boy in all the town remaining alone on his veranda, Tom Skelton in his skull and bones hating to go in, wanting to wring the last dear drop from his favorite holiday in all the year, sent his thoughts on the night air toward the strange house beyond the ravine: Mr. Moundshroud, who are YOU?

And Mr. Moundshroud, way up there on the roof, sent his thoughts back: I think you know, boy, I think you know.

Will we meet again, Mr. Moundshroud?

Many years from now, yes, I’ll come for you.

And a last thought from Tom: O Mr. Moundshroud, will we EVER stop being afraid of nights and death?

And the thought returned: When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go,

and Death himself will die.

Tom listened, heard, and waved quietly.

Mr. Moundshroud, far off, lifted his hand.

Click. Tom’s front door went shut.

His pumpkin-like-a-skull, on the vast Tree, sneezed and went dark.

The wind stirred the great Halloween Tree which was now empty of all light save one pumpkin at the very top.

A pumpkin with Mr. Moundshroud’s eyes and face.

At the top of the house, Mr. Moundshroud leaned out, took a breath, blew.

His candle in his pumpkin head on the Tree fluttered, died.

Miraculously, smoke curled out of his own mouth, his nose, his ears, his eyes, as if his soul had been extinguished within his lungs at the very moment the sweet pumpkin gave up its incensed ghost.

He sank down into his house. The roof trapdoor closed.

The wind came by. It rocked all the dark smoking pumpkins on the vast and beautiful Halloween Tree. The wind seized a thousand dark leaves and blew them away up over the sky and down over the earth toward the sun that must surely rise.

Like the town, the Tree turned off its embered smiles and slept.

At two in the morning, the wind came back for more leaves.

Ray Bradbury, from The Halloween Tree