The black feather wreath on the sliding industrial door was just a hint of a Kurt Hummel Halloween.

For his first effort at holiday decorating, Kurt transformed the apartment into a "Phantom of the Opera" fantasy. He had filled the loft with candles purchased at a local dime store and cut-rate pumpkins discounted to clear the supermarket bins before the holiday. 

He'd draped black tulle along the brick walls, creating the look of a fashionable crypt.

He had also made costumes for the night: The Phantom for himself and the dashing Vicomte Raoul for Blaine. Rachel would have insisted playing Christine, but she had other plans that night, saving Kurt the effort, and the intrusion. 

Then Mary Shelley met the National Weather Service. Candles lit, the Phantom soundtrack playing in the background, Frankenstorm blew through the eastern seaboard with winds, rain, flooding and power outages.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but we're not going to be getting any trick-or-treaters tonight," Blaine said, setting towels at the base of the widows to help block the howling winds.

Kurt stood, Phantom mask tipped up like a headband, looking dazed next to an oversized caldron of candy. "But I had all these treats ..."

"Honey, no one's going out tonight. But I was thinking ... We have this beautiful crypt to ourselves, and all these candles, and the howling winds -- maybe we can have our own Halloween party."

Right then, with a deafening crack of thunder, the music stopped and the world went dark, save for the candle-lit grotto created by Kurt.

"Good thing we have candles," Blaine said, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and nuzzling his neck. "So, mysterious Phantom, you lured me to your lair below the Opera House. What will you do with me?"

****

The storm worsened during the night, flooding streets and leaving entire neighborhoods in the dark.

Unable to roust Kurt with her knocks at the door, Rachel fumbled in the dark for her keys, shivering and soaked from her run through the rain. Even her darkened hallway screamed with sounds from the storm, the winds howling with demon-like yowls.

Dammit, he can't even hear me knock, she thought. Why didn't I just stay here? I could have been Christine!

She finally inserted the key in the lock, and none too soon. The creaking and groaning of the aging building, the screech of the heavy metal door, did nothing to calm her nerves.

Ooooooooohhhhhoooooaaaaaah! Rachel jumped. It had to be an auditory illusion, just the wind, but it eerily resembled the sounds of someone mimicking a ghost.

She stepped into the apartment. OK, where is Kurt? And why are these candles still lit?

"Kurt? Blaine?" 

The creaking grew louder and more frequent, accompanied by a spectral moan.

Oooooooohhhh! Ooooooohhhhoooooaaaaahh!

Rachel was now, officially, creeped out. Then, the sound that made her jaw drop.

"Sing, Christine! Sing!"

She stood in stunned silence, then quietly backed her way out of the apartment. 

There has to be a coffee shop with a backup generator, she thought.