He had the street to himself. "Legend of the Ghostmaster Effect"was what Scott dubbed the empty streets on this rare, warm October night.
Many years ago a hated postmaster of the local post office was found floating in the canal, the night before Halloween, face down.
The police called it accidental drowning but there were whispers of murder.
Suspects - almost everyone that knew him. He was not well liked.
Every Halloween Eve since, there were reports of ghost sightings along the canal. It was said to be the postmaster come back to seek vengeance against his murderer. As the years went by the legend of the Ghostmaster grew.
But Scott didn't believe in ghost stories.
He listened to the sound of his sneakers hitting the pavement as he enjoyed his solitary run. Thump thump. Thump thump. Like a pendulum, perfect rhythm. But then his clip-on light went off.
Annoyed, he hit it with his hand but it stayed dark.
Suddenly there was a wooshing sound from above. Scott felt the wind twirl around him as the wooshing grew louder.
The wind rushed in at him as a wave crashed out of the canal and soaked him from head to toe.
Wait a minute, thought Scott. Canals don't have waves.
He stopped running and stood still, feeling the cold water dripping off of him. Something was very wrong.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a dark shadow coming down at him. Fast.
Before he could move, the wet, slimy being circled around him and thundered into the back of his knees, sending him sprawling painfully to the ground.
He felt like he was underwater. He struggled to catch his breath. He was on land but he was drowning.
He flailed his arms in a wild, desperate attempt to get air but something was holding him down. His hand bumped the powerful flashlight in his pocket, tripping it on.
A scream of pain came from the air as Scott was suddenly released from the horrible drowning feeling.
Scott sat on the ground, dazed, searching the area around him with his powerful beam of light. He watched in horror as he saw the ghostmaster fade away into the depths of the canal.
When Scott's heart finally stopped racing he gingerly got up off the ground and keeping his flashlight on, began a painful jog back home, vowing never to run on Halloween Eve again.