Happy Halloween - A "Treater" for you all

Here's the short story I said I was going to post. I entered it in a YA Halloween writing contest on Absolute Write. Didn't win anything but it was fun to write. It's a pretty big deviation, stylistically, from what I normally write but it was still fun to experiment. So enjoy and I hope your Halloween was spooktacular!

Jack looked into the pillowcase. A sugar high yelled back. The lady in the doorway smiled. You’re too old. Jack looked at his friends. No they weren’t.

‘Thanks.’

He stumbled to the street. He opened the sack again. Everything was twitching. The Twizzlers had a hole in it. Something was growling.

The pillowcase started swinging. It whapped Jack in the leg. He already lagged behind. No one could see his candy spazzing.

The pillowcase wigged out more. The snarling got louder. Jack cringed thinking of hugging it to his body. He couldn’t let his friends see.

Little candy bars jerked and twitched against his stomach. Each poke made his guts flop. Jack shivered. The wet on his neck made the cold worse.

Jack looked behind him. Then in front. The streets were darker. Porch lights were shut off. There were fewer houses to turn to. Jack’s friends still laughed and shoved. Jack shivered.

Pain dug across Jack’s stomach. He sucked in cold air getting colder. It hurt his teeth. He looked down and moved the pillowcase. There was a spot of blood on the sack. The one on his t-shirt oozed bigger.

Home was a green sign on the corner. It flashed at Jack. He beelined down the street. The pillowcase still squirmed. His friends didn’t notice.

Every house was dark. It wrapped around him as he zipped by. It slowed him down. His porch light was on. Ugly orange mums were out. His gut churned.

The curb grabbed his toe. The shadows pulled the sack out of his arms. The dewy grass yanked his knees down. The wet soaked through his jeans. The cold got colder.

A gust blew. Snickers skin slapped his face. The pillowcase was in front of Jack. The shadows gnawed half of it. It bled Milky Ways on the grass. It was still.

Jack’s heart knocked at his ribcage. It pulled at his throat. It beat in his ears.

The blood spot on the sack glared back. Jack touched his finger to his stomach. He cringed. He looked down. He pulled the t-shirt up. The gouge stared back. It was polluted with t-shirt fuzz.

The pillowcase was still.

Jack’s street was stagnant. The shadows stole the noise.

Something poked his calf. Jack swat. He looked at his leg. It was nothing.

Something poked his back. Jack hit. The sting echoed. His hand was heavy. He looked. It was nothing.

Nothing pricked up his arm. He couldn’t look. The back of his neck tore. Pain played dancing stars in his eyes. Skin popped. Little daggers ripped. Nothing was out of breath. Nothing snarled in Jack’s ear.

Nothing stopped Jack’s scream. Jack’s face hit the ground. Babe Ruth crinkled. She caught his fall. Ugly orange mums were out. Jack’s porch light was on.

Jack’s porch light went off.