Halloween in the suburbs of Chicago always held a certain enchantment. Streets transformed into rivers of costumed children, their laughter echoing between houses adorned with jack-o'-lanterns and cobwebs. On this particular All Hallows' Eve, amidst the witches, superheroes, and ghosts, a peculiar figure waddled down Maple Street - a child encased in an oversized, puffy dinosaur costume. The outfit was comically large, each step a laborious effort, the tail dragging along the pavement. Only the child's face was visible, painted green to match the suit, with eyes peering out curiously at the world. Green gloves, more suited for gardening than prehistoric mimicry, clung awkwardly to small hands, one of which clutched a nearly empty orange bucket.

The dinosaur stopped before a particularly inviting house. Warm light spilled from its windows, and tasteful decorations hinted at a household that embraced the spirit of the season. The child hesitated, then shuffled up the walkway, the costume swaying with each movement. Reaching the steps, the dinosaur struggled, the bulk of the outfit making the ascent a challenge. After a moment's effort, a gloved hand rapped on the door.

It opened to reveal a kindly old woman, her silver hair pulled back into a neat bun, eyes twinkling behind wire-framed glasses. She wore a knitted cardigan, the kind that suggested both warmth and countless stories.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest dinosaur I've ever seen!" she exclaimed, noting the sparse collection of treats in the child's bucket. "Looks like you haven't had much luck tonight. How about we fix that?"

She dropped a generous handful of candies into the bucket. "I was just about to enjoy some cookies and cider. Would you like to join me? I've got plenty to share."

The child tilted their head, considering. After a brief pause, the child nodded.

"Wonderful! Come in, come in," the woman urged, stepping aside.

The dinosaur entered, and the woman closed the door gently behind them. She moved to the front windows, drawing the heavy curtains closed, shutting out the prying eyes of the night. The soft rustle of fabric falling into place seemed to muffle the distant sounds of Halloween revelry, cocooning the house in an intimate silence.

She led the way to a spacious living room, richly decorated with antique furniture. A large television played classic cartoons, and a coffee table bore an array of sweets, cookies, and a steaming pitcher of cider.

"Make yourself at home, dear," the woman said, pouring a cup of cider. "Would you like some?"

The child nodded again, accepting the warm cup with small gloved hands. The child sipped cautiously, eyes scanning the room.

"Is there anyone else here?" the child asked, their voice high-pitched and wavering.

"No, it's just us," the woman replied, settling into a plush armchair. "I don't get many visitors these days, so this is a real treat for me."

The child picked up a cookie, turning it over nervously but not eating it. The room's coziness began to feel stifling, the warmth almost oppressive. The woman's gaze, once friendly, seemed to linger a bit too long, her smile stretching just a tad too wide.

"You know," she began, her voice taking on a strange, sing-song quality, "when I was your age, Halloween was very different. We had the most interesting traditions."

The child's grip tightened on the uneaten cookie, eyes darting anxiously to the curtained windows and then back to the woman. The silence between them stretched thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the faint sound of cartoons playing in the background.

"Back then, children had to be very careful whose door they knocked on," she whispered softly, eyes glittering strangely behind her glasses. "You never knew what kind of people might invite you inside."

A nervous chuckle escaped the child's lips. "That's funny," the child said weakly, shifting uneasily.

"Oh, it's not a joke, dear," the woman said softly, her smile stretching unnaturally wide. "Some say their spirits still linger here, waiting for company."

The child's breathing quickened, eyes widening. The room felt suddenly colder, shadows growing longer and sharper.

"But look at me, rambling on," the woman said abruptly, standing up. "I'm sure your parents must be worried. It's getting late. You should be heading home."

She walked briskly to the door, opening it wide and gesturing to the darkened street outside. "Off you go now, dear. Happy Halloween!"

The child stood slowly, shuffling toward the door. Just as they reached the threshold, the child paused and turned back, hesitating.

"I forgot my cookie," the child said in a plaintive, whining tone.

"Oh, of course!" the woman replied, hurrying back to the living room. She returned quickly with the cookie. "Here you are, sweetie. Now run along home."

As she extended her hand, the child's demeanor shifted. Straightening up, the child spoke in a voice that was no longer childish but cold and adult.

"Not yet."

Before the woman could react, the dinosaur costume split open with an unsettling rip. From within emerged two figures: a petite, sharp-featured woman who had been the visible face, and a stocky, muscular man who had been concealed within the bulk of the costume.

The old woman's eyes widened in horror, her mouth opening to scream, but the man was swift. He lunged forward, striking her on the head with a small, weighted object. She crumpled silently to the floor, unconscious.

The intruders moved with practiced efficiency. The woman produced a sack hidden within the costume, immediately rifling through drawers and cabinets, filling it with valuables. The man disappeared upstairs, his heavy footsteps muffled by thick carpeting.

Minutes later, they reconvened in the living room, both sacks bulging with stolen goods. Without a word, they assisted each other in reassembling the dinosaur costume, their movements methodical and rehearsed. Once concealed within their disguise, they lumbered out of the house, the added weight making their steps even more cumbersome.

They navigated through the neighborhood, avoiding well-lit areas and clusters of trick-or-treaters, until they reached a black cargo van parked inconspicuously a few streets over. The back doors swung open, and the dinosaur clumsily hoisted itself inside before pulling the doors shut. Moments later, the van's engine roared to life, and it merged into the flow of traffic, disappearing into the night.