Sit down, dear reader, and grab a cup of hot apple cider. For in honor of this Hallow's Eve, I shall tell you a tale that is as true as it is chilling: the tale of the Masked Cyclist.It was a dark, crisp Autumn night many years ago and I was a mere high school girl, cycling home from piano lessons on my step-through mountain bike. The nonfunctional shifters and rusty chain emitted eerie creaking sounds as I rode through the nocturnal New England streets. My path was illuminated by moonlight, since my bicycle had no lights. Suddenly, I glimpsed something out of the corner of my eye - a moving...