AN: Well, well. Here we are again. I confess, I had a few different ideas for this year before settling on this one. I have done my best to stick to older urban legends-internet tales are all very well, but Scarecrow's a purist.

Gotham seems to be caught in a time warp-smart phones coexsist with five-cent-newspapers, so the home phone is not so very unlikely. Much to Dr. Crane's glee...

Sue Lynnmann's finger hovers over the keypad on the microwave. Popcorn, popcorn...ah! Popcorn.

"Three minutes, guys!"

A chorus of 'yayyy!' comes from the other room and she smiles. They're good kids. Not like the little horrors next door. Those kids, damn-there's only three, but they destroy enough for ten.

But these ones are good. And that's why they get to stay up a half-hour later and have popcorn.

BEEEP!

She pours it into three bowls and makes her way back to the living room, tongue between her teeth.

"Sue, Sue! Look what I can do!"

Steve, the younger, eases himself into a wobbly headstand and his face promptly goes red. Jessica makes a face.

"Knock it off, Stevie, that's gross!"

"Is not, it's cool!"

"Guys, guys, relax. Popcorn's ready."

Steve falls down and both of them leap onto the sofa. Sue hands out the popcorn and picks up the remote.

"Remember-after Goosebumps, it's straight to bed, no arguing."

Sue shuts the door to Jessica's room and tiptoes back downstairs. The Smiths should be back in another hour or so, give or take, so she can just watch TV until then.

She's flipping around when the phone rings. She lunges for it so it doesn't draw them back downstairs and wonders if the Smiths are going to be late.

"Hello?"

"Have you checked the children?"

"Who is this?"

Click.

Creep. That's the thing with Gotham, it's crawling with freaks and sickos. All the same, she sneaks up, cracks both doors, and is satisfied to see that Steve and Jessica are asleep. Of course they are. Probably someone from school called. Probably Matt-she'll give him an earful on Monday morning.

She goes back downstairs and resumes flipping. Stupid Matt. He thinks he's sooo funny. Ugh! Boys.

The phone rings again and she glares at it. Seriously? He's gonna keep doing this? That asshole, god dammit-

"Matt, knock it off."

"You really should check the children."

"This isn't funny, stop calling-"

Click.

Whatever.

She finally settles on a James Bond movie-Daniel Craig, can't complain about that!-and is just dozing off when the phone rings again.

"Hello?"

"Cross over, children, all are welcome!"*

"Matt, I swear to god-"

Click.

Fine. You know what? If he calls again, she's calling the police. See how he likes it. It's not her fault-he kept calling and freaking her out! That'll teach him to scare her like that, goddamn asshole...razzafrazza...

Brr. It's cold in here. She goes upstairs, adjusts the thermostat-just a few degrees, she's allowed-and goes back to Bond.

Within ten minutes, it's cold again and she decides to mention to the Smiths that the thermostat is wonky. For now, though, she pulls a throw blanket up to her shoulders and settles in. They should be home in like, half an hour or so. Which is good, because she's starting to get a little creeped out. She can't help it-being in a strange house after dark has always creeped her out. Made sleepovers a difficulty as a kid, that's for sure.

RIIIIING! RIIIIING!

That's it! Release the kraken! Or at least the police.

"Look, this isn't funny-"

This time there's just horrible laughter before the man hangs up. She hits 911.

"Someone keeps calling here." she says. "It's probably just a prank or something, but he keeps telling me to check the children and I'm...could you do something?"

"If he calls again, we'll trace it."

Great.

Better than nothing, she guesses.

She can't concentrate now and she turns the TV off. Christ, it's cold! Maybe she should just turn it off...

She goes upstairs, shuts it off, and peeps in. Just to be sure. As expected, they're sleeping. Nice and normal.

She goes back downstairs in time for the phone to ring and this time she grabs it, feeling ridiculously smug about the whole thing.

"I called the cops on you, asshole."

More maniacal laughter, but he doesn't hang up this time.

"You really should have checked on the children, Sue."

She hangs up, heart pounding, and the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Get the kids and get out." The operator is breathless. "A unit is on its way."

"Huh?"

"The calls are coming from inside the house."

The room sways. She drops the phone-did she hang up? It doesn't matter-and sprints upstairs, feeling as though she's running through water.

Steve's door is ajar and she hopes and prays he's getting a glass of water. He's still in bed. Did she not shut the door?

She goes to him, trying to be quiet.

"Steve?" she whispers. "Steve, kiddo, we gotta go."

She shakes him and he rolls over. She screams.

He's gagged and trussed up like a turkey, but he's not asleep-his eyes are bulging out of his sockets and he looks terrified. The gag is wet and a bit of blood is dripping down his chin.

"Oh, god, oh god-"

"I told you so."

That voice, that horrible, raspy, sing-song voice-

She turns, hand scrambling for anything to use as a weapon. Standing in the doorway is a man she's seen on the news-one of Gotham's own dark children. The Scarecrow.

"Stay away!"

"Stay away!" he mocks. "Have you seen little Jessica?"

"The police are on their way." she warns. "You won't get away with anything."

"I already have." He reaches down and drags Jessica into view. Like her brother, she's bound and gagged and out of her mind with fright. "Afraid yet?"

She hits upon the lamp and hefts it up, ripping the cord out of the wall.

"Get away!"

He laughs at her and she hurls the lamp. It hits him in the shoulder and shuts him up, but before she can move he's crossed the room and grasped her wrists.

"You'll regret that."

The last thing she sees is a fine, white mist rising from his sleeve. Then the world becomes a nightmare.

THE END

*Someone's been watching too much Poltergeist (the original, not that shoddy excuse for a remake).