I lock the door and turn off all the lights, Easter is here once again. The once joyous holiday has now turned into one of fear. Some crazy man runs around the neighborhood planting bombs inside gift baskets. The first year he did it he ended up killing ten children and five adults. How anyone could be so cruel is beyond me.

Now instead of spending time with family, eating candy and just having a good time, we hide in fear. Everyone in the neighborhood just tries to pretend like they are not home. If you visit this cozy little city on Easter, then you either die, or simply believe it is a ghost town.

A loud explosion causes me to jump. The damn Easter Maniac strikes again. I wonder who he got this time. Was it an adult or a child? A young girl running to pick up the basket of treats just to get ripped apart by an explosion into a thousand small pieces, I shake my head to clear my mind of such an awful image, yet one that is all too real of a possibility.

The police have been near useless in catching this guy. Year after year for five years now they say they are getting closer. Then why in the hell have they not caught this maniac yet. When will Easter become an enjoyed holiday again?

As much as the town wishes for things to go back to normal it will never happen. Even if the maniac is caught then we will still have to live with the memory of all the destruction he has caused. We will never trust people to have good intentions with an Easter party. Easter will forever be spent alone, maybe with close family and friends. This one man destroyed an entire holiday for this community.

I wonder what could have caused this man to hate Easter so much, if at all. Does he just choose the holiday to attack naïve children? Did something happen to him one Easter to make him hate it so much? Unfortunately, these are questions that will probably never be answered. For all I know this is just some man, or woman, that just hates the world and unknowingly chose Easter and became infamous for it so they decided to stick with Easter for bombings. Only the bomber knows for sure.

Loud knocking and screaming knocks me out of my thoughts.

"Help us" I can hear being repeatedly shouted while the pounding on my door continues. It could just be the maniac, but it is certainly a group of children screaming. Helping could mean death, but if there are children out there screaming then how could I just sit by and do nothing. How I wish I had a house that had a view to the front yard. I can't just leave them. I run to the door and throw it open, I instantly regret this decision. No children on the front porch, just a stereo and a very deadly Easter basket.

I just had to make an Easter story. I know it is up a little early but I will not be home tomorrow to upload the story so I am doing it today. Review!