Curiosity fills the air as the children stare at the cover—a grinning jack-o’-lantern surrounded by ghostly shapes and twisted trees. Each child clutches a handful of colored pencils, their costumes rustling as they lean closer. The room feels alive, pulsing with anticipation and the scent of caramel apples.

The youngest child traces the outline of the house, her breath catching as she colors the windows a glowing yellow. Suddenly, the candlelight dims and the shadows seem to deepen. Ella, the brave one, whispers, "Does anyone else feel like the pictures are moving?"

The children huddle closer, their colorings growing wilder, filling monsters with vibrant greens and fiery reds. Sam, the skeptic, snorts, "It’s just a book. You guys are imagining things—look, the werewolf’s eyes aren’t really glowing." But as he colors, the red he chooses seems to shimmer under the lantern light.

The room grows colder, mist curling around their ankles. Maya, the storyteller, murmurs, "What if coloring brings them to life? Maybe we should stop." But the book’s pages flutter, eager for more color.

With trembling hands, they color the scarecrow’s eyes a fiery orange. The shadows seem to lean in, and a faint rustling echoes from the hallway. Ella asks, "Did anyone hear that? Maybe we should close the book." The others nod, hearts pounding.

They exchange relieved smiles, their nerves slowly settling. Maya whispers, "Let’s save the rest for next Halloween." Outside, the wind quiets and the house feels safe, but the coloring book waits, patient, for its next night of magic.