"Brent, you should get back in the car," Delia called out. Her friend was standing in the middle sidewalk of a quaint street in a residential neighborhood of Portland, Maine, drinking a Twisted Tea. Children in costumes were walking awkwardly around him, and parents hurriedly tried to get the kids to ignore his presence. He was the only member of his friend group who was not wearing a costume, having claimed to several people that his orange T-shirt and black pants were a costume enough. "You're clearly the scariest thing on Halloween."
"I needed some fresh air," Brent said. "It's fucking cramped in that thing." A small child dressed in a dragon costume tripped over Brent's foot and kept walking without either Brent or the child paying any mind to it.
Delia peered at her friends through her thick-rimmed glasses, sitting in the passenger seat of her best friend Tara's hatchback. "So what do we do now?" she asked. She was wearing a homemade costume of a green-and-teal chameleon with rainbow highlights that her mother had handed down to her. Her mother had made it based on a character from some book or TV show she liked, but could not for the life of her remember the name of. Delia had spent hours and hours trying to look it up; she hadn't found anything.
"I dunno," Brent said. He finished drinking his Twisted Tea and dropped it on what he thought was the ground, but ended up being a kid's pumpkin-shaped Halloween basket. "We could go to my house and just chill, maybe play some Call of Duty. There aren't any other parties going on, and the last one sucked anyway."
"I enjoyed it," Delia replied.
“Easy for you to say,” Tara replied, smiling slightly. She stood next to Brent in a “Hooded Huntress” costume, which was essentially just Katniss Everdeen but copyright-free. Tara had never read the Hunger Games, and she was certain that she'd hate it if she did; she just thought the costume looked kinda neat, and she had to make the decision quickly so it'd be shipped in time. “I think you're the only person there who actually bobbed for an apple.”
“Listen, I was having fun. I just don't get the kind of parties you go to,” Delia responded. “Okay, so you're all crammed in this one room, right? And you want to talk to people about stuff, but the music's too loud so you can't. In addition, we've trained an entire generation of professionals—we call them “DJs”—whose entire job is to make it so there are no breaks in the music so you can talk to people. Wanna dance? You can't; you're surrounded on three sides. So all you do is drink, and I've got, like, 3 meds that all say that I'll die if I try to drink.”
“You can hook up, too,” Brent noted.
“One can,” Delia replied. “You don't.”
“Yeah, okay,” Brent laughed. “Fuck off. Anyone have any ideas at all for what we want to do?"
“My aunt's in an actual blood cult,” Tara said matter-of-factly. “They're having a Halloween party tonight.”
Silence. Delia and Brent stared at their friend, Brent finally being the first to speak. “Excuse me?” he said, his voice raising in interest.
“You're shitting us, right?” Delia said. “If there was a blood cult in this city, I'd know. Trust me.”
"I'm dead serious." Tara shrugged. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but… well, get in the car and you'll find out."
"What?" Brent said. "No. I'm not falling for this. Any real suggestions would be appreciated, thank you."
"I think we should humor her," Delia said. "She's probably made this cool haunted house for us or something."
"No prank, no lie," Tara responded, walking around to the driver's side of her car and getting in. "You can come with us or not. Either's fine."
Brent groaned. "Alright, fine. Let's go."

The signboard in front of the unassuming brick church read “REMEMBER - GOD IS ALWAYS FIGHTING FOR YOU.” Tara parked the car next to the church's side entrance; Brent and Delia vaguely recognized having passed it on the street before, but hadn't given it much thought. It was just a standard part of the landscape, something everyone acknowledged but no one truly saw.
Brent unbuckled his seatbelt a full second before the car stopped, standing up just as it came to a halt. He leaned over the front seat, his head poking out from in between Tara and Delia. “Ha. I get it. Because they drink Jesus' blood, so they're blood cultists. Witty. Clever. Why'd you need to drive us all the way here to make that joke?”
Tara chuckled dryly. “The church is a front,” she said. “What, you think they talk about how they bleed themselves for their god out in the open?”
“They bleed themselves?” Delia said. “I mean, I guess I should've realized that was what ‘blood cult' meant, but I thought you meant more sacrificing animals or something. Did anyone tell them about tetanus? Or HIV? Or literally every awful thing that happens if you just cut yourself open?”
“They're zealots,” Tara said quietly. “They aren't thinking straight. My Aunt's been trying to get us into this shit for years; it's why we don't see her often.” She opened the car door and got out; Brent and Delia followed closely behind.
Tara guided her friends up the stairs to the side door, knocking on it three times. A large old man opened the door; he had shoulder-length white hair, a slight white beard, and round, thick-rimmed glasses. More noticeably, he was dressed as Frankenstein, the entirety of his skin painted bright green. The man looked at them, turned to his side, and bowed; Tara recognized this from the way her aunt would always greet people. “Rakmou-leusan fights as always,” he said. “Welcome.”
"Hello to you too," Delia said.
The man gave them a toothy smile. “I take it you're new here? Well, it's nice to meet you all.” He held out his green hand for Tara to shake. “Harvey Whitfeld, Ur-Aíma Priest of this branch of the Church of the Second Hytoth.” He smiled, and the green coloration of his skin suddenly flushed back into a more natural tone. “That's better. Figure it's best to meet new folks on the human level, even if it is Halloween.”
Delia's face lit up. “Okay, how the fuck did you do that?” She swiveled her head around the room. “Okay, no projectors on the walls, so that's not it. How on Earth—”
Harvey cleared his throat. “Well, maybe it's not from Earth.” He spoke in a mock voice similar to old sci-fi announcers, enunciating every word. “Come on in, get some candy. All your questions will be eventually answered as long as you do one thing for me, okay?”
“And what is that?” Delia replied.
“Give us the benefit of the doubt. Just for tonight.”
The three friends followed Harvey into the church basement. It looked like all church basements tend to look: brown ceramic tiles on the floors, dirty plaster walls, circular folding tables both propped up against the walls and positioned around the room. On each table, there were snacks: handmade scones and muffins, bowls of all the kinds of candy you'd expect from Halloween parties, and some gelatin molds of ghosts and dead trees and pumpkins. The Halloween decorations were simple and store-bought: orange-and-black caution tape warning people to keep out, cobwebs and plastic spiders hanging from them, skeletons propped up in two of the room's corners. No new innovations were being made on that front.
The members of the supposed blood cult were simply chatting amongst each other, eating sweets; Brent and Delia both came to the same conclusion about just how human they looked. Some of them did have brightly-colored skin as a part of their costumes like Harvey did—a middle-aged couple dressed as Navi from the Avatar movie, a 12-year-old boy dressed as the Vision from Marvel—but even they were laughing, having a good time, partaking in no secret blood rituals except for the consumption of candy. People had a solid mixture of costumes on, but several costumes would be out of place anywhere else–four-armed people with bright red skin, holding spears or swords. Delia took note of this instantly as something probably tied to their religion. Brent assumed that there was some new popular anime he had never heard of. Tara knew all too well what they were dressed up as.
“That costume,” Harvey said, pointing at Delia's green patchwork dress that her mother had spent weeks making so many years ago. “I never thought I'd see Karma Chameleon again in my life.” He chuckled heartily; Delia stared blankly at him. “Don't try to look it up,” he added. “No one remembers who he is, and for good reason. We just have ways of remembering things better than other people.”
Delia stopped in her tracks. "You know what this is? My mother doesn't even know what this is, and she made it. How?"
“Well. It's a long story, and one I don't really have permission to tell.” Harvey turned to Tara. “Wait, I recognize you,” he said, stopping in his tracks. "You're Alba Muñoz's niece. I've heard a lot about you.”
“Funny,” Tara muttered. “Haven't seen her in a good long time.”
Harvey nodded empathetically. “I've heard that, too,” he said, his voice almost to a whisper. “I don't think there's a way to talk about that in an unbiased way, and it's far be it from me to get involved in your family's business. Suffice it to say, she definitely wants to get to see you more, if you and your parents would let her in.”
“Hell no,” Tara said. “She's brainwashed. I'm not going to talk to someone who gives blood to invisible sky aliens.”
Harvey smiled. "Then why did you come here?"
Tara turned to Brent and Delia. “You two can mingle, have fun. Don't get sacrificed.” Neither Brent nor Delia knew whether Tara was serious about the last part, but they shared a quick look at each other and went off to one of the tables where several kids their age were.
“Honestly,” Harvey said, “that's probably the first reaction of 90% of the people we get here. I completely understand how we look to people on the outside. Also, we don't sacrifice people. That's a big thing. All blood given to Rakmou-leusan is surrendered willingly.”
Tara sighed. “Right, I know that. Because of those other aliens that did do awful things, the divas or something.”
Harvey burst into genuine, uncontrollable laughter. “They're not called the divas,” he said, “and they weren't aliens. But I love the enthusiasm.” He paused. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Tara didn't know why her sense of self-preservation didn't immediately kick in, but as Harvey walked off, against everything in her stomach telling her not to, she followed him.

The main floor of the church was remarkably similar to how Tara remembered her church to look like growing up—her parents had gotten out of the habit of going, and while her mother occasionally mentioned feeling guilty for not going, the thought was never enough to get back into the swing of things. There was no trace of what this place actually was; the illusion of decency, Tara thought, permeated this place so entirely that it almost sickened her.
Harvey, still dressed as Frankenstein with his regular, slightly sunburned skin tone, reached for a light switch on the wall and illuminated the space. The stained glass windows would be easy to overlook as the type of windows one would see in a church like this, but Tara didn't recognize any of the scenes they depicted, and staring harder at them, she noticed that several of the figures had four arms. On top of the altar was what looked like a flat river rock; on the side of it was the all-too-familiar heptagon symbol Tara's aunt had hung up on most of her walls.
“Keep pretending to be something you aren't,” Tara said. “It's a good look. Real religions don't need to do that.”
Harvey laughed. “You know, I wish very much we didn't have to blend in like this. But we've made agreements with a lot of powerful groups, and this is the compromise that best lets us assist Rakmou-leusan without making a lot of enemies.” He rolled the R in his god's name in what Tara thought was the most pretentious display of faux worship imaginable.
Tara rolled her eyes. “Would you like to keep being vague, or are you going to show me that thing you wanted to?” She took a seat at the far end of a pew, her legs turned outwards and facing the wall.
“What I wanted to show you,” Harvey said, “was the hard work your Aunt Alba puts into this community. She planned this party, you know. It was a shame she couldn't make it; she made it incredibly clear that she had to be on her front porch, handing out candy to all the children. Nothing would have gotten in the way of that.”
Harvey gestured to the stained-glass windows. “Alba helped me install these windows the other day; it took us forever to get around to it, but the old ones still had pictures of Yorun-leusan on them, and I couldn't stand to look at them anymore.” He paused, noticing Tara's exasperated face. “You don't need to know who that is, don't worry. I just get started on tangents, and—”
“So what I'm hearing,” Tara said, sighing, “is that you indoctrinated a woman to the point that she puts all her energy into making this place run, while simultaneously literally bleeding her dry. Do you not see why I have a problem with this?”
Harvey nodded. He took a seat on the pew in front of Tara, turning around to face her. “You know, there are a lot of times when I wish that our truth didn't sound so ridiculous to outsiders. It's impossible for any self-respecting human being to judge you for your reaction here. Giving blood to aliens is… yeah, well that's a tall order. And then there's the paradox of giving first aímact. When you first give your blood to Rakmou-leusan, you see him fighting, you feel their struggle against the enemy, that valiant dance between light and darkness. You no longer have to believe; you simply know, and you know why you need to give. But getting to that point requires you to do something unthinkable, something that you are biologically trained to never do.
He sighed. “And I'll never be able to explain to you the entirety of what that feels like, what I know now, and I've trained myself to just accept that, a thousand times over. But I knew I couldn't just not try.”
A silence hung low in the room. Tara found herself captivated by just how quiet it was, having seen the revelry of the people below her, knowing that all around her, kids were celebrating one of their favorite nights of the year. It felt fitting. Finally, she spoke. “I'm not going to let you think for a second that I believe you, or that I don't hate what you stand for with everything in me,” Tara said, “but I need to know. What do you actually do here? What does being in a blood cult look like?”
“Well,” Harvey said, “when we started, we'd have services on Sundays, just because that felt like the norm to all the former Christians who started this place. But we eventually got a lot of people who wanted to be korutists but were also Christian. The Ortothans never ruled any possibility out about what might be out there, and we did not want to either. So we have a shorter service on Sundays, and we have a longer one on Wednesday nights.”
“And you give blood,” Tara noted, lowering the hood on her costume.
“And we give blood. We have portable stones as well, for daily usage. You give what you can; most of the time it's just a pinprick, but sometimes even that can be dangerous for some people. We don't ask for any more than we reasonably should.”
Harvey stood up. “Another good part of our time,” he said, stretching out his arms, “is focused on untangling the mess that our forebearers left us. There was a kingdom, a long time ago, of korutists, and they had a lot of paper documents. Both from the kingdom, and from… well, out there. Millions and millions of these things, stacked up in boxes folded into smaller boxes and put back into big boxes. This I can prove, but I don't think we have any in this building. We research, we translate, and we try to put together the narratives of several millennia into a consistent timeline.”
“Yeah, no,” Tara said. “You can't just say that and then tell me that they somehow all went missing.”
“Show up here on Sunday,” Harvey said, “and I'll take you to a larger church so you can see for yourself.”
“You have another church in Portland?” Tara said. “Because I'm not going any further.”
“In a way,” Harvey said, scratching his head. “If I told you the rest it'd make all kinds of nonsense. Again, the best way is just to show you.”
Tara rolled her eyes again, standing up and slowly pacing along the wall. She looked at each piece of stained glass briefly, pretending that she wasn't admiring the art. “So you guys are just magical alien scholars, then? Assuming I believe any of the shit you say. That's it: giving blood and doing research? Sounds boring.”
Harvey smiled solemnly. “Well… let's just say we were fairly late to the party with this type of thing. Stop me if you've heard all this stuff from your silly old aunt. A long time ago, seven gods fought valiantly against the tide of nonexistence threatening our universe every day. Slowly but surely, these gods fell. One particular knucklehead of a god killed another god in probably the worst decision ever made, and I do mean ever. When korutism came to Earth, there were three left. When we rediscovered it, there were only two. And three weeks after you were born, there was one. When there are zero, we're done. Lights off. That's the end.”
Tara laughed this time, a dry laugh. “Making up urgency to encourage your disciples to stay in line.”
“What I was getting to,” Harvey said, “was that we as a community know this, we know how fickle the universe and all its infinite glory and terror can be, and so we enjoy ourselves. We live, we have more feasts and holidays than we know what to do with, and we give back. You see, this funny thing happens when you start giving your blood, the essence of your being, to someone you don't even know and who will never know you exist. You start to realize that you can give less important things to people who you can actually see the struggles of day to day. Most of the people we feed, clothe, and help get back on our feet think that we're a church of the traditional kind, even if it means that Rakmou-leusan doesn't get another follower. That's fine. They're better off for it, and that's what matters.”
Tara nodded. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she didn't, and walked back down the stairs to the party. Neither Harvey nor Tara knew whether Harvey had gotten anything across to her in that moment.

"Okay, change of plans, we gotta go," Delia said, running up to Tara as she entered back into the basement. "You didn't tell me that they wanted to bring about the actual end of the world."
"They don't—" Tara said, but was interrupted by Brent running up next to Delia.
"You're finally back," Brent said. "I thought he had to have killed you by now! You know what they do to outsiders?" He pointed at the table where they had been sitting previously, at one of the teenagers who was wearing a four-armed costume with artificially red skin. "That's Jove. Xe was kind enough to warn me about the actual shit that goes on here. Your aunt's a fucked up person. Jove's been trying to get out for years, but xir family watches everything xe does, and—"
"Apparently," Delia interrupted, "every Christmas, they go to an animal shelter, find fifteen puppies and sacrifice them to the Holy Fourth. And then, on Easter, they crucify the weakest member of the congregation!"
"Xe didn't want to tell us what happened on Halloween," Brent said. "Just told us to leave before midnight!"
Tara laughed to herself. She took a look at Jove, who looked back and winked at her. "Jove," Tara said, "is messing with you. Come on; let's get back in the car."

In another place, at another point in time in this hytoth, a young Tara Muñoz sat in a handcrafted wooden chair in a suburban rowhouse on the outskirts of Portland. Her aunt walked out from the kitchen door and placed in front of her a plate of tilapia in bechamel sauce, a recipe that she had gotten from the cookbook Tara's mother had bought her for Christmas. "Here you go, yorun," she said. She always used that nickname for Tara; her mother never liked it, but Tara didn't know why. "I hope you enjoy."
Tara poked at it with her fork before finally taking a bite. It tasted strange, but not as strange as the texture of the fish in the cream sauce. She moved it around her mouth a few times before swallowing and taking another bite. As she swallowed the fish, she found herself enjoying each bite more and more; a dangerous curiosity, her young mind thought. How could she enjoy something when the taste was so strong and the texture was so unusual?
Tara looked at the clock on the wall, taking a few seconds to translate the positions of the hour and minute hands into information about the time. 7:14 PM. She looked up at her aunt, who took her seat next to her niece and began eating the meal herself. "Aunt Alba, isn't it time for you to give blood?"
Alba turned to her, a wild, endeared smile crossing her face. "I wish," she said, "I really do. But sometimes you get too old to do certain things, and my doctor says I can't handle it." She held out her arm, blue veins popping out through her aged skin, small pinpricks on each of her five fingers from repeated practice of her church's rituals. Alba placed her hand on Tara's own, smiling.
Tara nodded contemplatively. Finally, she spoke. "My Mommy doesn't want me to see you much anymore because of your religion."
"Oh, don't worry about what she says," Alba laughed. "We've always had our differences, but the two of us are closer than anyone in the world. She might not understand my religion, but she understands me, sweet pea. That's what's important."
Tara looked down, taking another bite of the fish. "Hm."
The two of them ate, neither of them looking at the other. Finally, Alba broke the silence. "You know," she said, "when you were born, I was in a bad place. I did not always give blood to Rakmou-leusan; I respected him, of course, but I was following a different path. I gave my blood to another god, another fighter in the greatest war ever fought, and then, as all things must do, she died. I couldn't go to church, I couldn't bear to think about it. So when you were born, I saw you, and you became the light of my life. I saw Yorun-leusan in your eyes; I saw her willingness to look deep into the cosmos, to explore, I saw all the secrets that would be hidden behind your eyes. Even if you never listen to one silly thing I say, just promise me that you will never stop being curious."
Tara nodded, although she wasn't fully listening. This moment was never truly as important to Tara as it would be to Alba; she was busy thinking about all the things in the moment, the fish, her paper on the solar system she'd have to write when she got back home. Neither of them knew that it was the last time Tara's parents would let her stay with Alba, but it was not the last time they'd meet. Alba would start giving blood again, and while Tara never received news that Alba had gotten hurt from her rituals, it always worried her and her parents beyond belief.
Tara did not think about any of these things as she drove her friends home, but she did not think about any of the things she had to deal with in the moment, either; her mind was racing with a thousand preconceptions she had about the church, and a thousand realities that did not seem to fit, and a million more questions that she did not have the answers to.
There was only one way to know more, and it would require her to do something that betrayed every feeling she had.


Zhun_AO

Dan Neil's Trick-Or-Treat of 2010 (An "Anomalous Objects" Halloween Special)

"Aww… look at the little horns… look at the floppy ears… and look at that doggy snout with the tiny fang! Oooh… he's sooooo cute! Dan-Dan, please stay still while Mommy takes a picture," Dan's Mom said as she brought up her camera.
SNAP!
6-year-old Dan Neil swung his pillowcase over his shoulder and lifted his chest high.
"My name is Dan E. Neil, and I am ready to get some candy!" Dan declared.
"Ah-ah-ah—before you rush out the door, what are the trick-or-treating rules?" Dan's Dad asked.
"Be nice to our neighbours, don't take candy from strangers and don't get into a suspicious van."
"That's right!" Dan's Mom said. "This year Daddy and I cannot join you to walk door to door, because one of us needs to take care of your baby brother, while the other has to be ready to give candy to the other trick-or-treaters."
"Can't he go out to trick-or-treat like the other kids? It's his first Halloween," Dan wined.
"Say that last part again, but slower." Dan's Dad said.
"It is his… first… Halloween. Ohhhh. He has not heard of trick-or-treating yet!"
Dan's Mom facepalmed and laughed. "Dan-Dan, your baby brother is too young to trick-or-treat, he cannot even eat candy because it is solid food."
"Okay," Dan walked over to the shoe rack. He found his sneakers next to a mini American flag pole, so after he took his sneakers he made a quick salute to the flag, just for fun.
"Dan, one more rule," Dan's Mom said as Dan slipped his sneakers on. "Don't stray far from home. Stay within this street, where I can keep an eye on you from the window."
"But Mom, I wanna go exploring our neighbourhood."
"No sweetheart, you cannot walk past our street alone. There are dangerous strangers out there. Meanwhile, we know everybody within this street, do we not? Please, just for this year… Stay. Within. The street."
"I will Mom." Dan gave his Mom a big hug.
"Hey, save some hugs for Dad too." Dan gave his Dad a hug too.
Dan opened the door and stepped outside. His Mom and Dad stood at the door and waved goodbye. Dan waved back. "Bye Mom and Dad! Love you!"
Dan ran out into the street. The neighbours went all out that year.
The jack-o'-lantern lamp posts lit the streets in warm orange and were complemented by the many pumpkins along the footpaths with wide smiles carved into them. Cut-outs of bats and black cats hung from long overhead strings. The chuckles and squeals of fellow children from about the neighbourhood mixed well with crunchy footsteps among the red and yellow leaves on the footpaths.
Among the kids walking up and down the street, Dan saw many costumed kids of different shapes and sizes.
There was an Egyptian mummy wrapped in long strips of yellowing paper walking with a werewolf completely covered with grey fur. There was a group of grey-green zombies and white-purple vampires trying to out-scare each other. There was also a witch, an alien, a Frankenstein and quite a boxy robot walking down the street somewhere.
Dan went to the middle of the road and did a twirl. He took in all the warming lights and the cheerful voices.
Dan thought, this is the best moment of my life, but something is missing…
Dan stopped twirling and stood still. He looked around. Everyone here was not going out trick-or-treating alone. They did it in pairs, threes, and other numbers of groups. Dan realised that even though he was surrounded by lots of people who wanted to trick-or-treat just like him, no one was doing it with him.
Dan was alone.
He looked down and hugged his pillowcase, wondering if there was a way out of his loneliness.
Then he looked to the sky and closed his eyes. A gentle breeze embraced him as he put his hands together.
Dan sang softly:
"Oh God if you can hear me…
I feel a little lonely…
I wish for some company…
yes please, that would be lovely…"
"BOO!"
"YEEK!" Dan screamed. He realised that a girl decided to sneak behind him while he was singing and give him a nasty scare.
Dan turned to look at the girl. She was wearing a white dress that had a torn and tattered translucent outer layer and a solid inner layer. She also wore a blouse with long flowing sleeves, and a small, white backpack to match. On her head, she wore a paper bag that was completely white, save for the three uneven blotches of black that made up two eyes and a wide, smiling mouth. The girl also had black hair that came out from the bag and was long enough to reach her shoulders.
The girl pulled her paper bag off her head and made a wide grin.
"Hello! I am Sarah the Ghost Girl… oooohhh… but you can call me Sarah.
"Kid, you are lucky because I choose you, out of everyone here to offer a chance to be my partner tonight!"
"Umm, I—my name's Dan Neil."
"Ah, Daniel! So Daniel, do you want to be my partner for tonight's Halloween?"
Sarah put out her right hand. Dan held his hands close to his chest, still in shock.
"Please say yes," Sarah lowered her voice, "I don't want to go alone."
When Dan heard this, he felt a spark of confidence in his chest. He eagerly raised his right hand and put it in Sarah's. "Just call me Dan."
Sarah put her left hand firmly over Dan's hand and she shook with both hands. Back to the same intensity as before, Sarah spoke loudly, "Great, let's go!"
Dan and Sarah went door to door asking for candy. Every time the two said "Trick or treat!" the adults at the door would say things like "Aww so cute…" or "They're adorable…". Dan managed to get complimented by a guy in a full-body monkey suit, a lady in a witch robe and pointy witch hat, and someone in a big lizard or dinosaur costume. All of them gave the two plenty of candy.
"Wow, I've got like two handfuls of candy in my pillowcase, and we have only visited five houses! About eight more houses left to go!" Dan said cheerfully.
"Actually, I think we have enough candy. I think we should stop trick-or-treating," Sarah replied.
"Wait, Sarah what do you mean? We haven't visited all the houses yet."
"Yeah, but I don't want to carry too much candy with me. It could weigh me down while I go on my adventure."
"Adventure?"
"Yeah. There's an old complex on the edge of the suburbs, and I want to go exploring there. Do you want to come with me, Dan?"
Dan thought about it for a minute. He pondered over his Mom's last instructions from just before he left…
"If I come with you, does that mean that I would not be walking past our street alone?"
"Well… you wouldn't be alone, why?"
"I'll come."

On the far edges of the suburban neighbourhood was a large complex of blocky buildings which was surrounded by a long metal fence. There were no windows on most of the buildings, but Dan could see faint lights where there were.
"I thought you said this place was old and abandoned. Why are there lights on?" Dan asked.
"I only said it's old, and it's definitely not abandoned—my dad works there," Sarah replied. "Every day he takes me to school on the back seat of his giant bike—"
"Woah, a motorbike?"
"No, just a big pedal bike. I once asked him why he would take a longer route around my school instead of turning the bike around to go home after dropping me off. He said that he wasn't going home, he was going straight to work. Then I asked him where he worked. He said…" Sarah trailed off.
"He said… what?" Dan tilted his head to one side.
"Some nonsense about birds. Whenever I ask my dad about his job, he always talks about something else. So, I've started an investigation into my father's job. I call it Operation: Orange Canary."
"Ooh, cool!"
Sarah started walking along the fence with both hands behind her back. "I couldn't follow my dad when I had to go to school, thus I've managed to track my dad down to this site by asking numerous people around the neighbourhood to keep watch of a 39-year-old man wearing grey jeans and a blue shirt on a bicycle and to note in which direction he was going.
"It was tough, but eventually I've determined that all the witness reports quite literally pointed to this far-out complex that belongs to the company…" Sarah extended her arm and pointed to a big sign on the side of the fence.
"…Safety Cushion Pillows LTD?" Dan read aloud.
"Huzzah! We have finally found the place where my dad works! Operation: Orange Canary is a success!" Sarah exclaimed as she threw both fists in the air. "Three cheers for us! Hip-hip hoo—"
"Wait," Dan interjected. "That's it?"
"Well, yeah."
"But what is Safety Cushion Pillows LTD?"
"Some kind of pillow-slash-cushion-making company, duh."
"Is there such a thing as a safety pillow?"
"Well, yeah! A safety pillow is… a pillow… meant for safety!"
Dan and Sarah looked at each other for a few seconds, awkwardly waiting for each other to speak.
"Okay Dan, you have a point. We still don't know what this company does or what my dad's role in it is. Let's look around for clues."
Dan and Sarah walked along the metal fence for a short while, trying to get different angles of the buildings within the complex. About three minutes after turning a corner of the fence and walking on grass, Dan spotted a break in the metal fence.
"Look!" Dan pointed. The two took a closer look. "It looks like a triangle, am I right?"
"Yes, Dan. It is a triangle, but more importantly, it is a hole. Seems like someone made two diagonal cuts to the fence to make it." Sarah's eyes followed the straight edge of the hole to the ground, where she saw patches of dirt in the grass showing. The further away from the hole, the larger the patches of dirt there were until the patches became a clear path. Sarah slowly looked up as her eyes followed the path into a dark forest.
Sarah turned back to the hole. "Dan, stop! What are you doing?"
Dan stood still and tensed up, having half gone through the hole. "Are we not going to enter the complex to find out more about your father's job?"
"Com'on get out of there!" Sarah pulled Dan away from the hole in the fence and back to the outside of the complex. "If we enter the complex, we will get caught by some guards and learn nothing. Look, there is a dirt path starting from this hole that leads into those trees. If we follow this trail, we might learn something very, very interesting."
Dan took a glance at the dark forest. "Are you saying that we should walk into that creepy, spooky, deep, dark forest?" He asked with a quavering voice.
"Fret not, ‘cause I brought…" Sarah took off her backpack, unzipped it and took out a large, blocky yellow brick that had a black handle, a red switch and a white lens on one end. "I brought a flashlight."

Dan and Sarah's feet pattered on the dirt path as they trod under the cumulated shadows of tree leaves and branches, which were pierced only by the beam of light from Sarah's flashlight.
It had been a while since they left the comforts of the suburbs, and Dan was starting to have a second opinion on the effectiveness of flashlights in dark places. Sarah's flashlight seemed to make the surroundings darker rather than brighter, especially in places where Sarah did not shine its narrow beam of light upon.
Dan was not holding his pillowcase anymore but was clutching the handle of Sarah's backpack with his left hand while keeping his right hand close to his chest.
Suddenly, Dan thought he saw a small pair of glowing circles from within the darkness. They looked like they were large pairs of eyes from afar. His eyes widened as he tried to take a better look into the black void.
There it was!
"sArAH~" Dan pointed at the pair of glowing eyes and gripped Sarah's bag tighter.
Sarah promptly flicked her flashlight towards that direction. The beam showed a squirrel on the side of a nearby tree trunk, looking squarely at her. The squirrel quickly ran up the tree and disappeared. Dan let out a small sigh as he loosened his grip a little.
Sarah huffed a puff of air out of her nose. "Dan," she whispered, "It'll be handy if you didn't sound the alarm at every animal or tree branch."
"I didn't know they were just animals or tree branches. It's hard to see into the dark."
"Well, good thing I brought a flashlight." Then the beam of light flickered and went out.
Blinded by the pitch-black darkness, Dan wined with unease while Sarah gave a few slaps to the flashlight to try and turn it back on, which it didn't.
"Dan, stay calm. Even though the flashlight broke, we still have moonlight. Our eyes should be able to adjust to the low light level right around… now." Sarah's white backpack and dress faded into Dan's vision. He could now see his right hand as he moved his fingers around.
"Dan, keep holding on to my backpack. I see a place we can rest for a bit. We are going there." Sarah slowly trodded towards the moonlight while leading Dan behind, like a car pulling a trailer.
Sarah and Dan sat down under a large tree. The tree grew taller than the others and its roots spread out further, spacing it away from the other trees. Above Sarah and Dan was a large opening in the thick canopy that allowed the moonlight to shine on them.
"Sa-Sa-Sarah. Lemme see the flashlight." After Sarah passed the bulky flashlight to Dan, Dan lifted it to his eyes, flipped it around and flicked the switch as hard as he could. The flashlight was dead.
"Ohh~ why did the flashlight break~" Dan wined. He passed it back to Sarah.
"You know, this was a gift from my Dad. He said it was a souvenir from work. I wondered why he was allowed to take home a piece of company property, and now I know why—this thing's faulty." Sarah sighed and put down her backpack. She put the flashlight back into the bag and withdrew Dan's pillowcase. "Wanna eat your candy?" Sarah asked.
"Yeah." Dan held his pillowcase with his left hand and reached in with his right. Dan took out a handful of candy. "Want one?"
"Sure. I'll have this red one." Sarah took a red sweet.
Dan poured the remaining candy back into his pillowcase, save for one piece, and put the pillowcase on his lap.
"Mine's orange." Dan unwrapped his small orange sweet and popped it into his mouth.
"Um… Sarah?"
"Yeah?"
"My parents and I know all of our neighbours within our street, but I don't recognise you. Do you happen to be from another street that's not the one we did trick-or-treating in?"
"Oh, no, I live on that street. It's just that I don't really make an effort to make friends."
"Maybe we know your dad. What's his name?"
"His name… is… oh gosh. I don't know my dad's name!" Sarah put her hand to her forehead in a facepalm. "Though, my surname is Hill."
"Mmm. Sarah Hill."
"Yeah."
"My neighbours call my mom and dad Mrs and Mr Neil."
"Wait, Neil is your surname?"
"Yeah. My full name is Dan E. Neil. People often mistake my name for ‘Daniel'."
"… wow."
The two sat there, keeping quiet and sucking on their sweets until they were finished. It was kind of quiet.
Dan absent-mindedly tilted his head back and looked at the sky. His eyes widened again, but instead of fear, this time they were filled with intense passion.
"What—what are those in the sky!?" Dan exclaimed.
"Hmm?" Sarah looked up at the sky. "Oooooh."
Scattered across the deep-indigo sky were hundreds and hundreds of sparking points made of pure white light shimmering in and out of existence. Some lights shone so intently that white spikes emerged from their centre.
"Those are stars, Dan."
"Real, actual stars?" Dan's eye twinkled as the starlight reflected off his iris. "They… are… wonderful…"
Dan leaned just a little towards Sarah and rested his head on her shoulder, never taking his gaze off the stars. Sarah rested her head on Dan's in return.
"I was worried that… we would not make it out of the forest for the rest of the night, at first… But now… being here…" Dan let out a wide-mouthed yawn. "…it would be awesome if we could stay here… forever."
Dan wiped away a tear from his eye with a finger, and Sarah saw it. In response, she spoke gently into Dan's ear, "Oh Dan-Neil… your such a crybaby…"
And they sat there. Together. For a long time…
…
RIIIIIIIIING~
Dan opened his eyes slowly. He was lying on his back, on a bed in a room. Bright, yellow sunlight from a nearby window filled the room and gave everything in it a yellow glow.
"Dad? Mom?"
Quick, and increasingly louder footsteps rushed to the door. Dan's Mom opened the door.
"Dan-Dan. You're awake. Are you feeling okay?"
"Where's Dad?"
"Dad went to work."
"To work? Wait, what's the time?"
"It's 9.30 am. Dan-Dan, are you feeling okay? Last night Officer Bradley and Officer Clarence took you home, and you were out cold. They said that they found you unconscious on the side of the road outside our street."
"Sarah—what happened to her? The last thing I remember is I was looking at the stars in the forest with her."
"You were in a forest!? Dan! I told you to stay within our street—"
"I know, but I thought I would be safe with Sarah!"
"Who's this Sarah?"
"S—Sarah Hill. She's a girl a little bigger than me. She lives in our street with her dad, Mr Hill—"
"There's no one with the surname ‘Hill' in our neighbourhood, Dan!"
Dan fell silent. There was a brief pause.
"Did… did I dream it all?"
"Oh, Dan-Dan~" Dan's Mom crouched down and wrapped her arms around him. "All that matters is that you are here, and you are safe."
She let go of him and took a step back. "You're still wearing your Halloween costume. Here, let me help you take this mask off…"

15-year-old Dan Neil took a sip from a paper cup and let out a long sigh.
It was almost exactly nine years since that fateful day. Now he was in his classroom at school, where they were celebrating the school's bi-semester "Big Breakfast". Six tables were gathered at the centre of the classroom while all the chairs and the other tables were moved to the sides of the class. The centre tables were set with various goodies like sandwiches, biscuits, noodles and fizzy drinks on top. There were also several orange-and-black party streamers on the ceiling and paper cut-outs of pumpkins stuck to the walls. This term's Big Breakfast coincidentally fell in October, so the class chair decided that the decorations would be Halloween-themed.
Many of Dan's classmates had gathered around him and were looking at him, listening silently.
"After all that, I have never trick-or-treated ever again… because later that year we moved from America to here and nobody celebrates trick-or-treat in this country."
Dan's classmates broke out into whispers, and then into applause.
"That was epic. Great Halloween tale," one girl said.
"That wasn't a tale. It really happened!" Dan replied.
"The best part was when it was all a dream," said another student before he burst out laughing.
"It wasn't a dream, Avious. It was real!"
"Hey Zhun, do you think that Dan told a good Halloween tale?" Avious turned to a boy sitting in a corner by himself, facing away from the crowd. He was chewing away at his peanut butter sandwich.
Zhun stopped chewing and turned his head a little towards Avious, barely showing the side of his face.
"That wasn't a great tale!" Yet another student stepped up, this one wearing his dark grey jacket. "The ending was horrible!"
"Hey shut up Jack! No one—"
"My name's not Jack, it's Jun Jie, and just hear me out a bit! Okay, so Dan said that he met a girl while trick-or-treating and he went into the forest with her right? Then suddenly he is back inside his house, on his bed, and the girl he met never existed! Ooooooh spoooookeeey! We wanted a Halloween tale, not some cheap romance story with a stupid twist at the end! Not to mention the…"
As Jun Jie kept ranting and the class quickly started a frenzied argument, Dan took his cup and poured the rest of the drink into his mouth. Then he set down the cup, stood up, walked past Zhun and went out the classroom door.
Dan stood in the open corridor and leaned on the metal railing. He looked out to the sky and watched the clouds slowly drift across the blue. His eyes twinkled as he recounted the only time he got to see those stars.
"It was real… real good… wasn't it?" Dan whispered to himself.
Dan heard footsteps from behind. He doubled back to his friend standing behind him.
"Oh, hey Zhun." Dan turned back to look at the sky.
Zhun watched silently.
"Um… Zhun, I was thinking… when Sarah and I sat under the tree that night, and I saw those wonderful stars, it was one of the happiest moments of my life…" Dan's voice sounded strange… kind of wobbly.
Dan started making a weird sniffing noise that Zhun didn't recognize, and was breathing sharp, short breaths. Zhun furrowed his eyebrows.
"If that was the happiest moment of my life…
then…
then…"
Dan slowly turned around. Teardrops were swelling from his eyes and trickling down his cheeks.
Dan burst out, crying. He threw himself onto Zhun and hugged him tightly.
"Why do I feel this waaaaayyy~" Dan cried over Zhun's shoulder.
Zhun could only stand there and be still. He lifted his arms, but he did not know what to do with them. Some classmates went out of the classroom to see what was all the commotion but stopped in their tracks when they saw it.
"What exactly happened that night?!" Dan cried out to the heavens.

And they sat there. Together. For a long time…
…
until a dark figure approached in front of them.

Dan and Sarah stopped looking at the sky and they both recoiled back in surprise. Sarah promptly stood up and firmly planted her two feet shoulder-width apart. She put her hands on her hips and faced the intruding stranger.
"Who are you, what do you want?" Sarah barked.
The dark figure then spoke in a clear, echoing whisper:

"So the dirt path is yours. Do you work in the complex? If so, you should know that we never entered it and trespassed."
Dan's eyes darted between Sarah and the mysterious silhouette from within the shadows. While trembling in his sneakers, he also wondered if Sarah was lying or if she was technically correct.

The Realizer walked slowly out of the shadows. The moonlight reflected off his ragged cloak, which swayed in the wind, and a large hood covered the face, hiding it in its own shadow. The Realizer kept walking as he approached Sarah menacingly.
Sarah moved her right foot forward and turned her left foot to her left. She bent her knees and raised her hands in a defensive stance.
"Stay back! I've got a knife! A real one!" With a just flick of her wrist, Sarah somehow produced a stubby knife from her long, flowing sleeves. Dan gaped in awe.

"Well, that depends: how would you turn me into a ghost? By ending my life?" Sarah spoke cheekily. "If so, I'll pass—"
The Realizer rushed at Sarah and lifted her up by the throat, grabbing her with an emaciated left hand. He pinned her against the trunk of the large tree that she was sitting under just minutes ago.
Dan let out a loud shriek. Sarah battered the dark figure's arm with her toy knife, but it was no use. She pulled at the cloak's sleeve, causing it to tear. Underneath the sleeve, the arm of The Realizer consisted of no flesh, no blood, just pale yellow bones.
Sarah mustered her strength into one last futile strike, then her arms and legs went limp and her hand let go of the toy knife. Dan saw it fall, bounce off the tree roots and land flat on the ground.
"Saraaaah!" Dan screamed.
There was a moment of silence as The Realizer gently lowered Sarah's body onto the ground. He settled it in a crude sitting position, leaning back onto the tree trunk. Then he took a step back.
Dan rushed over to Sarah's body and kneeled down. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Suddenly, Sarah's body produced a white glow. Then the glow itself moved. The white glow floated out of the limp body and came to a stop in front of it. It was in the shape of Sarah.
Dan rubbed his eyes. Here was Sarah, as an apparition. Her dress and long sleeves were rippled in a gentle breeze. Her skin and hair were now just as white as her dress, and all translucent.
Sarah opened her eyes. She bent down and twisted around as she looked at herself in disbelief.
"I… I am a real ghost girl!" Sarah shouted with glee.
Then, Sarah the Ghost Girl shot upwards and ascended into the sky.
"No, don't go!" Dan cried as he reached his hands upwards, trying to catch Sarah even though she was very much out of his reach.
Sarah's joyful cheers echoed as she did loop-de-loops in the air. Both her ghost and her voice faded into the distance until Dan could neither see nor hear her anymore.

The Realizer turned towards Dan and raised his index finger from his boney left hand at Dan. Dan put his hands close to his chest. His knees knocked together and he trembled.

"Wh-wh-what?" Dan stuttered.

When Dan refused to say a word, The Realizer bent down to take a closer look at Dan.

Dan let out a whine and started sobbing. "I made my Halloween costume by mixing and matching different add-ons *sniff* until I found something that I liked *sniff* instead of buying a whole costume. I just wanted to try something different this year~" Dan then let out a long moan, with a few sniffs in between.

"Waaaaa~ I don't *sniff* wanna *sniff* dieeeee~"
Despite Dan's response, The Realizer spread out his arms and hands, then he swung them at the sides of Dan's head.
Before they touched Dan, however, a man in a lab coat ran in from nowhere and swooped up Dan. He carried him in his arms and carried him into the forest.
Several more men, these in tactical gear, emerged from the shadows all around the large tree, surrounding The Realizer, carrying long rifles with green lights on them. They opened fire on The Realizer, barraging him with many green lasers.
Finally, now that The Realizer was stunned, they threw a silver orb covered in concentric green patterns, which produced a rhythmic beeping. The beeping got faster and faster until the silver orb exploded into green flames.
The flames consumed The Realizer whole and burnt his cloak to ashes, revealing a filthy, hollow skeleton. The skeleton raised its arms to the sky as if crying for a plea from the heavens, before collapsing into a pile of bones as the flames dissipated.
Dan watched from within the forest the demise of The Realizer, next to the man in the lab coat.
"Are you okay?" asked the man.
"Ye-yeah. But Sarah—"
"Sarah!?" the man exclaimed. Then he stood up and ran back towards the large tree.
When Dan walked out back under the moonlight, he saw several of the men in tactical gear hauling in a large, metal box to the pile of bones. White smoke emerged from the box when they opened it. The men proceeded to place the bones inside the box piece by piece.
"The skeletal remains are secure. Do you copy?" one of the men said.
Meanwhile, a short distance away, the man in the lab coat stood in front of Sarah's body. Dan ran over to him as the man's knees gave way and he fell to the ground, kneeling.
"Sarah…" the man picked up Sarah's arm and pressed his fingers on her wrist. "Oh God, no, please no…"
Dan looked at the man's face. He wasn't crying, but by his frown and squinting eyes, he was surely holding back some tears.
Then, Dan put two and two together.
"Are you… Sarah's Dad?" Dan spoke, softly.
The man nodded his head. Dan patted Sarah's Dad on his shoulder and put his head down.
"I'm sorry. She wanted to find out where you worked, but then we got distracted and followed a path into the forest. Then we met the skeleton monster, and the skeleton monster choked Sarah until her ghost fell out. Now she's gone." Dan sniffed as more tears streamed down his cheeks.
Sarah's dad turned to Dan and saw his tears.
"What is your name, son?"
"Dan E. Neil."
"Ah, Dan-Dan." Sarah's Dad put one hand under Dan's chin. "I'll send you back to your parents, safe and sound. By then, you'll have nothing to worry about."
Then he reached into his breast pocket and produced a syringe. With the hand under Dan's chin firmly grasping his head, Dan couldn't move as Sarah's Dad squirted the air out of the syringe. Before he knew it, the man already jabbed the needle into the left of his neck.
The man pressed the plunger, and Dan's iris shrunk to a dot.

Dan Neil's brawling gradually subsided. He undid his grasp on Zhun's body and stepped back. Despite this, Zhun remained stuck in an arm-raised position, petrified.
"I… sorry I… didn't mean to do that," Dan spoke calmly.
"Maybe… maybe it isn't so bad that I don't know why I ended up in bed, or whether any of that stuff actually happened. Perhaps it's for the better that I forgot everything after I sat there with Sarah, under the stars… I'm… going back to class."
Dan walked past Zhun and went into the classroom, leaving Zhun just standing there.
Zhun broke out of the stance and panted as bent down and put his hands on his knees for support. He tilted his head up and stared into the distance with crazed eyes.
Zhun then held his breath and rubbed his left hand over his neck. He stopped at the left of his neck, and pressed his index finger on a spot.
It was the exact same place where Dan was injected.


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⚠ Content warning: This article contains mentions of blood, gore, and some body horror.

⚠ content warning

It was Hallow's Eve.
The calm crackling of classical music played on the radio, which rested atop the dining table across from me. A lone violin quavered each note in succession, accompanied by my low humming as I scrubbed the dishes. An audible wind flooded in the hollow silence. It left me to sing in isolation.
The feeling of residing in an open field alone was a serenity unlike any other. I wouldn't be able to hear my thoughts if I lived in the city. Cramped and claustrophobic, I would've suffocated in the crowd, my lungs drowned in the dark smog. I appreciated the quietness, remaining with only my reflections and I. The air tickled my throat with a freshness no other place could provide. It almost felt like an addiction.
A pumpkin sat on the counter beside me — its face and head skewered open, and its guts wrenched out to make way for the wax stuffed down its throat. I'd recall how it choked out a flame before perishing with a forced and toothy grin. I could sense it gawking daggers at me, pleading to me why it was swept from its family and mutilated, why I tossed its insides aside and left it lifeless in the corner. Even now, I could hear it mocking me, occasionally gagging from the melting resin.
I turned off the sink and stared at the cloudy water as it plummeted down the drain. Taking in a deep breath, I proceeded to dry my hands. As I coated the towel with my dripping palms, I noticed the radio's captivating melody had fallen into a malignant static. My ears rang in response, followed by a slight migraine. I turned to my side — a disgruntled expression on my face — before approaching it and ceasing its shrieking. It shortly fell asleep afterwards.
Sighing, I soon found myself in a familiar emptiness that quickly enveloped me. I took a moment to relish in the mere beauty of the void, shutting my eyes and standing in place. The lukewarm atmosphere caused sweat to drip down my face and rain my body with a piercing coldness. Oh, how I missed you, silence. You never fail to keep me at peace. The days I go by would not be complete without you.
It just felt so pleasant.
But as swiftly as I slipped into its trance, I gathered my thoughts and continued with my night. "Maybe I should take a stroll through the pumpkin patch." That would be a good idea.
With that in mind, I gradually made my way to the entrance. It was somewhat tedious to navigate through the dark, but I merely focused on the light clawing its way inside from beneath the door. One step after another — the floorboards letting out subtle squeaks — I eventually stood before it. I then gripped the luminescent handle before twisting and pulling forcefully. The wooden doorway screeched at me, a shrill and sore sound cracking the stillness for a second. I chose to ignore its screaming and shut it tight.
A lantern dawned its rays from above, surrounded by a crowd of wretched insects. The light shrouded the front porch in a jaundiced shade, and the rocking chair slowly swayed back and forth in the breeze. I was almost distracted by the glowing moon in the dusk and misty sky, taking my breath away. But I soon shifted my attention back to my lovely garden.
The crumbling steps creaked as I strode to my dear fruitful children resting on the soil. A faint smile slowly formed on my face as I feasted my unblinking eyes on their alluring autumn hue. Crouching down to a pumpkin's head peeking from the earth, I caressed its wrinkled skin. It jerked in response, a droplet trickling down its face. It was weeping, almost crying. Placing a finger to its mouth, I shushed its yelping with a soothing tone in my voice: "Don't be afraid. I promise I won't hurt you." I stroked its head, assuring it was safe with me.
And as I leaned in to peck it goodnight, I caught a glimpse of a red something in my peripheral vision.
Hidden in the earth, I spotted a dazzling cherry rose, enticing me with such a delightful tint. A lovely shade of red unlike any other, sparking more variety in this pumpkin patch. I pulled the flower from the ground to observe it up close, taking in its scent and fondling its petals. It would be nice to have a taste of such magnificence. My mouth watered when the thought crossed my mind, and I decided not to wait a moment longer.
I proceeded to tear off a petal from the blossoming beauty and placed it in my mouth, wrapping my tongue in its perfume and chewing every flavor apart. Tearing it asunder, I could feel its juices seeping from my mouth, though that was probably just my saliva. It tasted like pure ecstasy, blanketing my cavity with a warmth of nature. It was as if the heavens came down to provide me with this blessing. I thank the one who brought me such fervency.
A taste so sweet, it felt like I was young again: Knocking on the neighbors' entrance and asking for treats.
I took a second bite, then a third, a fourth, a fifth. I chewed away its skin as more of the mouth-watering flavor stained my lips in a throbbing sensation. The juice smeared my palms, glistening in the moonlight. It was an addiction, the most delectable kind. I could feel everything melting around me like an oil painting. I gasped for air.
I sipped from what remained of its corpse in my hands before clenching my burning chest. As I tried to calm myself down, I caught sight of another rose climbing to the surface. I desperately reached for its taste, but another suddenly sprouted before me. Then another, and another. More and more flowers clawed their way from beneath the grime until an ocean of bloom surrounded me. They wailed my name like an insult, trapping me in a wall of noise. I groaned in pain as my heart quickened in pace and my vision grew more blurry.
Then, I sensed something piercing my leg.
A thorn punctured my ankle, causing blood to trickle below the ground, providing the blossoms with my savory flavor. As they swallowed my fluids, the roses fell into an abrupt silence. I could hear them breathing faster and faster before collectively whispering to me in the dead of night:
They wanted more.
A vine then crept up and wrapped itself around my leg, climbing my body and penetrating my skin with its thorns. More of my wine seeped into the ground, quenching their thirst. I couldn't leave. The vines were pulling me into the filth, burying me in the earth.
The barb tore my flesh apart, draining my blood and clouding my view. I struggled to breathe, violently coughing and straining to keep my balance. My limbs and torso grew numb as a red fountain shot out of me. I stood frozen still as a puddle of ichor formed beneath my feet.
Was this how it felt? When I gouged out that pumpkin's eyes and mouth? When I taped the lips of my furniture? When I peeled the skin off that rose? Were they giving me a taste of all the suffering they endured because of me? The flowers tore my flesh apart and forced my liquids to gush out of me. Their thorns ran deeper inside me, plunging into my veins. The feeling of my life getting sucked out of me. Everything about it felt so… so…

…sublime.

I had never felt such pleasure before. This euphoric pain spiked across my framework, painting my canvas in a coat of wine, paying much attention to each nerve they stroked. The distress enamoured me — feeling so helpless before a mob of thorns. I was over the moon. The thorns tightened their grip.
They slowly sealed my lips shut, suppressing me as they fed on my dying self. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and submerged myself in this blissful fate. More and more blood ran down my body, watering the flowers, satisfying them. The intoxicating silence finally made me a part of it, sweeping me off my feet. The wind hummed to me a melody as my life faded from me.
I was complete, whole. This Halloween night filled me with joy unlike any other. The world had never felt more jubilant, more alluring. From the roses and their thorns to the moon in the night sky: Everything around my standing corpse was never more…

…beautiful.