Every Hallows' Eve

Chelsea burst into my dorm room without knocking. Her mane of auburn hair swirled around her like a halo in the rays of sun that filtered through my small window.

“I have a proposition for you.” She said, raising her eyebrow in mock seriousness.

I glanced down at the textbooks sprawled across my duvet then back to her hopeful face, “Go on.”

“Come home with me this weekend.” She spoke so quickly the words slurred together in anticipation and nerves.

“What?” I asked as if I hadn’t heard. But I had.

Chelsea continued, “I know it's only for three days, but it’s Hallows’ Eve! And you need a break from all this studying. Come meet my family.”

“Do you mean Halloween? Like costumes and candy Halloween?” I asked.

Chelsea’s face crinkled momentarily then flashed back to hopeful. “Not… exactly. We do things differently back in Church.”

“And what does that mean?” I tried to look quizzical and not exasperated because Chelsea was sensitive.

“You would have to see it to believe it.” She waggled her eyebrows at me playfully.

I couldn’t help but notice the way the filtered light made her eyes light up like pools of honey. She was hard to say no to.

“Okay, but if I get a D in biochem because of this vacation I blame you.” I said, closing the textbook closest to me with finality.

“Yes! You won’t even remember that D in five years anyway. You need this, the last few months it’s like you have been stuck in your head. Time to be social again.” She proclaimed.

I hid the pain from my face as the last few words hit me in the gut.

I rolled my right hand through the air current as if it was riding on a wave just outside Chelsea’s convertible. I took a sip of my pumpkin spice latte with the other. The rich swirl of cardamom and cinnamon swirled around me like a hug in the breeze. I looked at Chelsea. She had her eyes on the road, fixated like a hawk. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun and her designer sunglasses swallowed most of her face. She was so cute when she concentrated.

The sun was beginning to wane behind the orange and red of the trees lining the road as we pulled into Church. I had long since finished my latte and was now wrapping myself in my arms for warmth. The fake red leather jacket I had chosen was apparently more for looks than functionality.

Suddenly my eyes caught movement on the road. I squinted to find a shape in the grey mass ahead of us.

“Hey! Chelsea!” I called with urgency. She didn’t slow.

“Chelsea! Watch OUT!” I screamed as we neared the grey form.

She glanced at me incredulously but slowed the car, we approached the mass at a crawl. I still couldn’t make out what it was in the dusky light. It seemed amorphous, shifting, and changing at will. Suddenly it darted off the road. I thought I could hear a child laugh as it disappeared into the brush. A shiver ran through my whole body.

“What. The. Hell.” I uttered, spinning my whole body to face the driver’s seat. I repeated myself. “What. The. Hell. Was. That.” I was looking for some kind of kinship in horror and confusion with Chelsea.

I didn’t get it.

She looked at me solemnly and said “That was a spirit. I was going to explain when we got home, but basically, Church isn’t a normal town. It is a very old town, with very old traditions.” She gauged my reaction and then continued, “Every Hallows’ Eve the people of Church light a candle in their window for the dead to find their way home. And every year, they do.”

“The frick frack does that mean? Like dead people? You can see dead people?” I asked, my voice rising in crescendo as I realized I was trapped in a car with a crazy person.

It was now almost completely dark outside, the lights of the dashboard left a faint blue glow on Chelsea’s face, not quite strong enough to reach the nooks and valleys of her features, it left a statuesque appearance.

“It’s what our town does and has done for hundreds of years. It has nothing to do with me. You will see tomorrow when they have fully entered this realm. They will look a lot more human on the actual day. Now, we need to get home, we really shouldn’t be out here in the dark.”

The urgency of her words and her understanding of an unknowable world shut me up. I stayed silent for the rest of the drive, constantly scanning the horizon for any sign of grey shapes.

We pulled into the driveway of an old stone home with an inviting glow radiating from the windows. Chelsea turned off the car and looked at me through the darkness. I could barely make out her features, but it seemed to be a comforting glance. I pulled my backpack from the backseat and followed her inside.

Her parents greeted us inside the entranceway. Her father was a tall man, with a furrowed brow and salt and pepper hair. He offered to take my bag and as he reached out for, I noticed his hands were shaking.

Her mother was a petite woman whose hair used to be dyed a golden blonde, but now the roots had grown out an ashy color. Her face was lined with stress.

I tried to put on my best smile, but I was out of practice, so it probably appeared as pained as it felt. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. …” I paused. I am not sure I remembered Chelsea’s last name. Had she even given it to me this semester? I racked my brain as the silence ballooned in awkwardness.

The father cleared his throat. “You can call me Stan.”

Relief rolled over my face. I could feel the sweat beading in my hairline.

The mother piped up, “Oh and you can call me Margot!” She smiled a tight smile.

“Nice to meet you, Stan and Margot.” I nodded.

Chelsea hit me square between my shoulder blades with a flat palm. “Well now that that is painfully over with let me show you your room.” She made pointed eye contact with her parents then led me upstairs.

At the top of the stairs, my gaze was locked on the framed picture on the wall. I backpaddled and stumbled backward down a couple of steps. My hands caught me by pressing against the walls on either side of the staircase. I dug my nails into the wallpaper. My gut dropped like an anchor cutting through stormy seas.

The picture contained four smiling faces. One of which I thought I would never see again except in my nightmares. Stan, Margot, Chelsea, and a boy about ten years old faced me like a jury behind the glass coverslip.

Suddenly, I felt two large hands grab my waist, jolting me from my focus on the portrait. I yelped in surprise.

Stan spoke up from behind my ear “Watch your step there. Are you okay?” I could feel the heat of his breath on the back of my neck, swirling around my ears.

I dropped my hands from the wallpaper and stammered out “Yes, I slipped and lost my balance on the smooth wooden steps. Thanks for catching me!”

Chelsea looked at me with concern in her eyes from the top of the stairs. “Are you sure everything is fine?”

“Yeah. I just must be tired.” I answered, looking to my feet.

The guest room was small, with a single bed and a country-fair style quilt. A thin layer of dust covered the antique oak dresser. I reached to flick on the single light in the room but was interrupted.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Chelsea stated.

“Why not?” I asked, pulling my fingers from the switch.

“The townspeople are lighting candles for the dead to find their way, we wouldn’t want them getting lost or confused with more light sources, would we?” She answered slowly.

A shiver racked through my body at the thought of that formless shape from the road reaching the house.

I shifted to reach for the lacey curtain covering the window in my room, tempted to look out and make sure nothing had followed us.

“I wouldn’t do that either,” Chelsea added.

I froze with my fingertips brushing the lace. “What? Why can’t I look out the dark window?”

“I don’t want to answer that. Just don’t look outside tonight. You’re better off for it. Trust me.”

My hands began to tremble. “Are we safe?” I asked the question, but I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

“Oh, don’t look at me like a deer in the headlights. We are perfectly safe; this is my childhood home! Just don’t look out the windows or turn on any lights tonight.” She cracked a mischievous smile to lighten the mood then backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

I glanced around the dim room to see Stan hadn’t brought my bag in. I didn’t want to make any more of a fuss than I had, so I sighed and resigned that I wouldn’t be brushing my teeth tonight.

I curled up on the spring mattress, still fully dressed, leather jacket and all. It felt almost like a protective shell, a piece of armor from this strange world I was in.

My dreams were plagued by nightmares. The same nightmare, the one that has played on repeat behind my eyes since the accident last year.

A car speeding down a dark road, the dashed yellow line a blur with speed in my headlights. I look down to the cellphone in my lap. It glows but I can’t read the words. I look up. The face of a ten-year-old boy is illuminated by the headlights. The sound of metal crumpling. Awake.

I open my eyes to see daylight. I don’t know how long I was asleep. I listen for a moment but there are no sounds of life in the house.

I open the door to my room and peer around the hallway and staircase, there weren’t any other people that I could see or hear in the musty morning. I tried to quietly make my way down the stairs, but the wooden boards had other plans and sung of my presence.

A voice floated up from the main floor. “Oh, you’re finally awake! Come on down” called Margot.

I don’t know what I was expecting the family to be doing in the living room, but it wasn’t what they were. They stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder with their hands behind their backs. Margot, Chelsea, and Stan.

“Uh, hi, guys.” I tried to hide my confusion in my greeting. “Did you have breakfast without me?”

“No dear. We have been waiting for our guest.” Margot answered.

“You didn’t need to wait for me,” I said, waving my hand bashfully.

“Not you dear,” Margot said.

My blood ran cold. My eyes focused on the flutter of the candle in the windowsill behind the family. Still lit. They noticed that I noticed and smiled.

Stan broke from the lineup and stepped towards the front door. I watched in terror as his creased hand slowly turned the brass knob, the lock clicked. The door opened and standing in the light of day was a young boy. The boy from my nightmares. His golden hair glinted in the sun, his eyes were alight with a life I hadn’t seen in a long time. He smiled at me.

“Is this her?” Chelsea asked the boy.

“Yes.”