Erin McCoy, Waterloom La Rae Hayes, Waterloo, Kristen Licari

Fire burn and cauldron bubble, it's time to reveal the winners of the 15th annual Courier's Ghostwriters Contest.

Pumpkins are carved, bats are in the belfry, and Halloween is mere days away.

Our readers voted online to select the winners after a panel of judges selected finalists in both adult's and children's categories.

Thanks to readers who took the time to write and enter their tales of terror. And thanks for casting your ballets.

Fiendish writers who won in the children's category were: 1st, Kelsey Hansen, Cedar Falls; Noah Miller, Waterloo; Connor Gibson, Cedar Falls.

Adult category winners were: 1st, Erin McCoy, Waterloo; LaRue Hayes, Waterloo; Kristen Licari, Cedar Falls.

Winners received $100, $50 and $25 respectively.

ADULT STORY START

Tamara tucked her blonde hair beneath the stringy-haired wig and jammed the witch's steeple-crowned hat on her head.

"You look great, Tam, scariest witch I've ever seen," Dale said, smiling. Tamara returned his grin, her heart skipping a beat. Then she caught her reflection in the mirror -- prosthetic hooked nose, warts, green skin and all -- and shuddered.

"C'mon, c'mon … Let's get moving. Doors open in 5, folks, get to your places. Looks like we've got hundreds of kids and parents lining up, so let's scare the socks off 'em and make this the best haunted house ever," Dale shouted above the din of laughing, chattering vampires, werewolves, goblins and ghouls.

Tamara headed toward the back of the house. Someone switched on the CD of scary sound effects and smoke machines puffed out clouds across the floor.

The once elegant old house now resembled a chamber of horrors. Fake blood oozed from walls and sconce lights flickered on and off. Giant string cobwebs, infested with large (mostly) plastic spiders, dangled from ceilings, the grand staircase and faded draperies. Black crepe paper festooned chandeliers, and room after room was filled with nightmarish imaginings conjured up by a particularly fiendish volunteer committee. It was the best haunted house ever, Tamara thought, and would probably make enough money to buy lots of Christmas presents for needy kids this year.

A motion-sensitive skeleton with glowing eyes gave her a start as it leapt out of the darkness. In the kitchen-turned-laboratory, Kyle, the evil mad scientist practiced his maniacal laugh. Tony, the "monster," gave her a wave.

Tamara slipped inside the basement door and headed downstairs. Her witch's cauldron was already smoking, the dry ice doing its work. She stirred the pot with an old broomstick, making up silly incantations. "Eye of newt, toe of frog, giggly gobbledygook bippity bobbity boo ba-donka-donk …" Tamara stopped cold. Something brushed against her cheek. She turned and stared hard into the gloom.

FIRST PLACE

Tamara tried to calm the fear in her heart. It thumped wildly out of control, ringing in her ears. She scanned the darkness for the culprit, praying it was one of the other volunteers trying to scare her.

A cobweb, she finally thought when no one appeared, and probably a fake one at that. Tamara chuckled quietly, feeling her body relax. Clearly this spooky haunted house stuff was going to her head.

Suddenly a sliver of watery moonlight found its way out from behind the clouds outside and peeked through a small window in the basement wall. It glinted off something in the corner. Tamara turned quickly toward the glittery red sparkles that caught her eye.

A small girl in a Dorothy costume stood with her back toward Tamara. Her braided head hung low as quiet sobs shook through her. One tiny fist pulled and twisted at her blue-and-white checkered dress. On her feet, red sequined shoes. Ruby slippers.

"Oh!" Tamara gasped, forgetting all about her duties as scary witch. Poor thing! Separated from her parents and utterly terrified.

Tamara approached the frightened little girl from behind and crouched down. "Are you lost, honey?" she asked quietly. "I'll help you find Mom."

The little girl turned as Tamara reached for her hand. She slowly lifted her eyes to meet Tamara's. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. "Ding Dong," the little Dorothy whispered.

Tamara felt her face crumple in confusion. The girl's eyes burned a fierce ruby-slipper red and Tamara's own widened in fear.

A shower of dust, a low groaning creak and Tamara's eyes shot upward toward the ceiling. Before she could even scream, the house crumbled down on her in a twisted rain of wood, metal and concrete.

"The witch is dead."

SECOND PLACE

Suddenly her grandmother's voice filled her thoughts.

As a little girl, she would always tell Tamara about superstitions from Ireland, especially around Halloween. Tamara was most fascinated by one about death. "If you hear footsteps behind you on Halloween, never look back! It is Death himself, and meeting Death's gaze will bring on rapidly your own demise," her grandmother always warned.

Her mind flashed back to the few trips she had taken to Ireland, where she walked on the path to her family's home on Halloween. One time after dusk, and one time before, she heard those feared footsteps behind her, but she followed her grandmother's instructions. Never did she look back.

And in this small Iowa town, when the stars emerged on All Hallow's Eve, the laughter of masked children and the buzzing of excitement could not make her forget her grandmother's words, no matter how loud the following footsteps were.

She always knew that death was following her, watching her every move … waiting for the perfect moment. Tamara had always heeded her grandmother's warning, though and never allowed Death that chance. She never turned back.

Until now.

The cold of Death brushing against her cheek took her off-guard. Among the made-up ghouls, mad scientists, shrieking music and fog machines, Death's footsteps were unheard.

Her screams, too, were silenced amidst the merriment of a Halloween night's scare.

Death finally had its chance.

THIRD PLACE

She couldn't see much past the vines hanging from the ceiling. The decorating committee had outdone themselves down here, too. They had created a graveyard with a maze of tree branches, brambles and plants that looked like a haunted forest. Spanish moss, creeping vines and cobwebs were draped everywhere, eerily swaying from the movement of her smoking cauldron.

Dirt and rocks covered the basement floor. Fake white skeletons poking from the dirt and carved foam headstones looked real in the shadows of hidden black-light sconces. Tamara remembered the house had been donated to the city by a reclusive botany professor who had loved Halloween. "Boy, he would have loved this basement," she said aloud.

A shiver ran up her spine and she laughed nervously as footsteps and screams started to shake the floor above her. "Here we go," she said, stirring the cauldron. The basement door opened and costumed feet appeared on the top step. Just then Tamara felt something brush her cheek again and then slither around her throat. She screamed before the vine tightened and started to pull her back into the corner, but her voice was lost in the fake screams of the soundtrack playing in the house.

She tried to grab onto something but the craggy branches around her only gave way from the sandy buckets they were stuck in. She twisted in terror as more vines wrapped around her arms, steadily pulling her backward. She dug her heels into the floor, but it did no good. As Tamara struggled for her last breaths, the forest scene went black before her eyes and she faintly heard a group of kids squeal, "This is the best haunted house ever. Look, there's even a wiggling foot in that giant Venus flytrap!"