Work is always busiest around Halloween, people run around scaring the shit out of others landing some here with horrific injuries. This man came in about 10 minutes ago with a hatchet protruding from his shoulder, his daughter crying hysterically about how it was an accident. 

Turns out we needed to arrest the daughter later. But, you've read that story already. Heading out, I hopped on my neon green and black  GXSR 600 speeding down the busy street towards home. Pulling into my driveway 25 minutes later I noticed a box sitting on my porch. 

After getting off my bike I climbed the few stairs to the curious box. It was warm to the touch which was odd because it's a balmy 54 degrees right now. Strange… 

Once inside my apartment I sat it on my kitchen table sliding into the booth in front of it. Carefully I turned it around until a door came into view. A slip of paper was sticking out from it. Pulling it out I found it to be a note from my Crazy Aunt Jenn. 

Hi sweet boy, this is a witch clock known for it's time traveling properties. Oh… hey make sure you stand in front of it at the stroke of midnight so you can experience a past Halloween day.

Love Aunt J

Aunt J with the weird witch stuff… I opened the little door to reveal a clock's face with numbers dropping like falling stars into a pitch black surface. It was an interesting one, with its intricate designs cascading down its red oak frame. 

I was lost in the beauty of it when all of a sudden the air was sucked out of the room with a hiss, sending me spiraling forward into the clock falling like the numbers into the black abyss. 

When my eyes could focus again I found myself standing in front of a mirror looking back at my 7 year old self. 

This has got to be some kind of joke?! I thought to myself looking at the plastic stethoscope on my neck with a white lab coat over my striped shirt and black pants. 

I was an odd looking kid with my bottle cap glasses, freckles sprinkled across my face with messy light brown hair. A real charmer for the ladies. Ha ha.

A strong sense of nostalgia hit me when I smelt my mother's homemade snickerdoodle cookies. She died the day after this halloween, my chest tightened making my heart falter when I saw her bright face.

She sat the cookie pan on the cooling rack then turned with a warm smile on her face. I ran to her crying uncontrollably my tears like daggers landing on her apron. 

"Mommy…"

"Aw Jack… what's wrong?" Her voice was soothing and gentle. When I looked up her face wasn't there but a blank canvas. Without pictures from the past how could I truly remember her. Even with witchcraft crap.

All thanks to a fire.

 Burned everything.