At the start of November, I entered a short story contest. The results were just released. Although I didn't place, I still had fun writing a story using inspiration from my early Halloween experiences. Even "bad" memories can be fuel for stories.
I would even say that negative memories and emotions create more realistic stories.
For this one, I dumped all the woes of what it was like to be one of the few children who weren't allowed to participate in Halloween. It was a bummer—and not just missing out on dressing up and candy collecting with friends. It was one more way my parent's version of religion barred me from doing a harmless activity most children enjoyed every year. I had many chats with God about that one, hah.
And no. I would not share this story with my mother. Though I heavily embellished my experiences, the core is all here.
Here it is: Incognito Angel
I dashed past my family’s brick mailbox, clutching my cross necklace in a death grip. The chill in the dusk air nipped at my bare knees, and the scent of ripe persimmons surrounded me. In my fourteen years under dogmatic rule, I’d never pulled such a scandalous rebellion. If my parents caught me sneaking out, they’d boom my name into the empty street like a curse.
My black loafers hit the sidewalk behind the tall boxwoods. Safe. I slowed. No one but God knew what I was doing, and he’d been silent when I asked for permission. Starting tonight, I, Leeorah Surly, broke ridiculous rules that supposedly had soul-endangering consequences.
Though I rolled my eyes, I threw a peek over my shoulder. The sidewalk was empty. My family’s street didn’t get much foot traffic except for people heading to actual neighborhoods. A quarter mile ahead of me, one such neighborhood beckoned—one with houses the size of mini shopping malls. There, fun and sweets reigned.
Or was it condemnation?
For this one night, other kids were allowed to slip into another person or thing’s skin. I continued walking while smoothing down the front of my plaid skirt. My twin braids shook. To add some punch to my rebellion and spite my Baptist parents, I dressed up as a Catholic schoolgirl. Take that.
Squeals and laughter tickled my ears, flowing from the neighborhood’s entrance. I needed that healing energy, the proof that Halloween wasn’t the demonic holiday my parents swore it was. Plenty of kids in Sunday school trick-or-treated, returning with epic tales of a year’s supply of candy. I just needed one piece to accomplish my goal. If Mom found out and camped in her prayer closet, that was her problem.
Grinning, I broke back into a jog. Once I zipped past the stone entryway, my mouth dropped to the asphalt.
Another world buzzed in front of me, like a scene from The Nightmare Before Christmas. I had only watched a few minutes before my mom shut it off and prayed over me. Now, I stood on the set. To my left, a graveyard loomed with headstones in all shapes and sizes. Bony hands and other limbs spilled from cracked earth. Giant spiders hung from hulking water oak trees. A group of kids stood on the front porch, collecting handfuls from an old lady’s cauldron.
Excitement bubbled in my chest.
To my right, coffins lined the lawn, and fake smoke poured between them. Several younger kids danced around the decorations, their parents chatting to the side. I thought I recognized a lady’s face from my church, so I jogged past.
Kids of every age giggled and shoved their way to each front door like crows converging on roadkill.
Ding-dong. “Trick-or-treat!”
The shortest kids wore various superhero armor or princess dresses, but the older ones trended toward game icons and classic monsters. A group of preteen zombies rushed past me, complete with fake blood and brains sticking to their smiling faces.
It was fake, right?
I gripped my cross again, shaking away the jitters. Until I was twelve, my mom used to whisper when we hid in the dark basement each Halloween. “Celebrating the dead invites evil.” But tonight was meant for fun. Mom may have been right about the gross costumes, but I refused to believe participating meant condemnation.
A man in a black cape held a child’s hand while she carried a pink bag matching her unicorn hat. Longing gripped my heart. Would my parents have ever taken me trick-or-treating if they believed differently? Maybe I missed out on some vital form of bonding. Maybe I wouldn’t have to rebel to enjoy a night so many kids treasured.
I kept walking. All I had to do was approach a door, get a piece of candy, and walk home. Easy.
Each child had parents, siblings, or friends with them, laughing and running beside them. I was alone. I moved my thumb across my crucifix. God knew, but was he angry? I swallowed hard.
A group of knights ran past me, revealing a single person clad in all white. I stopped as if I ran into a wall. The creature skipped toward me, holding a full sac in one hand. Red light glinted off her glasses, and she wore a carefree grin that threatened to suck my soul out of my body.
I jumped behind a web-covered bush and squatted, trembling. I covered my eyes, muttering, “Father forgive me—”
“Hey, whatcha doin’ back there?” a voice asked, too close.
I squeaked. The older girl dressed in white robes and a halo leaned around the bush, her gaze more on my shoulder. I fell back on my rump. She didn’t know, but she represented God’s judgment. Guilty. Skeletons, werewolves, or any other creature wouldn’t bother me. It had to be an angel.
“You okay? Lemme help you up,” she said, holding down a thin hand an inch from my eye.
A fraction of panic lifted from me, maybe because she was also alone, offered help, or that she pronounced her “L’s” more as “R’s.” She was just a teenager like me. I grasped her hand. In one quick motion, she hauled me to my feet. I almost tumbled into her.
“Thanks,” I said, brushing off the back of my skirt.
“Wow, I wore this so I wouldn’t scare anyone this year. Last year, I was a witch with pieces of dolls on me. Fake arms and stuff. It was cool. You know, like the witch if she ate Hansel and Gretel. Did you know the original author…”
The more she spilled random facts about Hansel and Gretel while groups of hoodlums paraded past us, the more I wondered if she was also starved for companionship. Two minutes later, she stopped in the middle of a sentence.
“Oh, right,” she said, nodding so fast that her halo wobbled. “I forgot people don’t like to know that much detail. Research is my favorite hobby. But only on fun things like fairy tales and stag beetles.” She twisted like she couldn’t stand still.
I took a step back before her wing slapped my arm. “I like fairy tales, but I’m not supposed to.”
She laughed, then stuck out her hand again. “I’m Judith. What do you mean you’re not supposed to? You can like anything you want. Life is for exploration and learning. And fun.”
I shook her hand. “Leeorah. I’m not supposed to be out here either.”
“‘Supposed to’ again.” She nodded at that rapid pace and had to straighten her glasses and halo. “I think I’m supposed to be your guide tonight. Come with me to the next house. I’m making another round.”
Judith shook her candy sack and turned away before I could answer. Following her went against everything I’d been taught. She acted nice enough, but she was a stranger who believed differently.
“Hey, Leeorah,” she called over her shoulder, waving an arm, “this way, schoolgirl.”
Hearing my name pronounced “Reeorah” made me smile and filled me with Judith’s energy. She wanted me along, even if this mission supposedly endangered my soul. Or was that Mom’s voice in my head again? Would Mom call Judith a hoodlum for participating in Halloween? Probably.
Grinning, I caught up to Judith’s side. We moved around a group of kids taking up half the road with their candy-swapping ritual. No guts, just sweets.
“No one wants dark chocolate, Bennie,” one kid yelled. The others laughed.
“I like dark chocolate,” Judith said to me. “Any chocolate. What’s your favorite?”
“Anything with peanut butter, but I’m not supposed to eat candy much.”
She laughed again, snorting at the end. “Your life is full of ‘supposed to’s.’ You can be your own person, you know.”
I frowned as we walked down a driveway between stationary mummies. “I’m trying to be my own person tonight.”
She turned to me, still not quite catching my eyes. “Good. Tell me your plans.”
“Plans?” I shuddered inside, like the time I skipped class to try a cigarette. I felt so guilty, I threw my clothes away when I got home.
We stopped beside the garage door to let another group of kids pass. I gripped my cross and focused on an orange candy wrapper under a plant. “I just wanted to participate once, maybe get a piece of candy. It’s stupid, but my parents say Halloween’s evil.”
Judith’s halo headband fell as she snort-laughed. She picked it up off the ground and placed it on my head. The headband itched and pulled my hair, but I didn’t remove it.
She smiled. “Papa says ‘Always be kind and gentle, compassionate to others, Judy-Bug.’ Everything else is up to us.”
“‘Everything else’ is pretty broad. What about rule-breakers?”
She shrugged a bony shoulder. “Rules exist to keep people safe and healthy. Being scared to mess up isn’t healthy. We all mess up. I’m going to get candy. Come on, Leeorah.”
She turned for the front door, but I stood still. Her father’s words were foreign. Wrong. Rules existed to keep people from straying. Those who chased fun instead of holiness ended up burning forever.
Sneaks like me. My face heated up.
A gut-wrenching scream sounded behind me. I jumped and whipped around. Several kids ran from a fake bonfire while an adult in a devil costume followed them. His mouth hung open, and he laughed when he caught the smallest child. The little girl squealed. The scene perfectly matched one of my mom’s pamphlet illustrations about hell.
I broke out in a sweat. My dad’s warnings played out before me, that those who chased pleasures were blind to consequences. Once they died, judgment claimed them. I envisioned a scene of the devil-man throwing the child into the fire pit. Her screams from before echoed in my head.
Falling down. Forever.
I drew in quick gasps and tore down the driveway. Judith was sent to lead me astray, a devil in angel’s robes. No wonder she had shifty eyes. By the time I reached the neighborhood entrance, I struggled to breathe. My name rose above the cries of doomed children. I kept running, but Judith caught up to me.
“I got you this,” she said, holding out a Reese’s.
“I don’t want it.” I pulled off the halo and slowed, holding it out to her.
“Keep it as thanks for walking with me. Can I say hi to you at church?”
I stopped and gaped at her. “Church?”
“Yeah, our parents talk sometimes. Ma says your parents squeeze too tight and teach you to be afraid. It’s wrong.”
Heat swam in my cheeks. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“Oh. Sorry. But I like you and don’t want you to be afraid. God tells us to enjoy life as long as we love others. That’s the only rule.”
That wasn’t the God of judgment I knew, but I didn’t want to be afraid like my parents. How did Judith find a way around it? Or was this deception?
She pointed down the sidewalk. “I live this way.”
“Me, too.”
We walked in silence, but I struggled to understand how she went to my church and could enjoy Halloween. Enjoy living. I assumed everyone else pretended to live but was just as petrified inside. Judith spoke like she had no doubts. About anything.
Once we got to my mailbox, she pulled me into a quick hug.
“I can’t wait to tell Ma I made a friend.” She slapped the candy bar into my hand.
I smiled at the warmth radiating from her words, but was it a trap? “Hey, maybe you can tell me more on Sunday, about the no fear thing.”
She made eye contact for the first time. “Sure. Bye, Leeorah.” She dashed down the sidewalk, her wings bouncing.
The candy wrapper crinkled in one hand. Judith’s—no, my halo dangled in the other. For once, I didn’t dread going to church.
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