I worry about the kids, the trick-or-treaters. Will they see me dead? They might see me through the window if they peek in wondering why no one is answering the door. Older kids may come in to investigate. Younger ones may yell to their parents waiting on the sidewalk.
Or maybe I’ll be dead outside. Maybe I’ll be checking the mail or getting something out my car when it happens. Maybe, despite my best efforts to die at home, he’ll lure me out or force me outside.
Wherever I end up, I worry about the kids. Halloween should be about pretend death, play macabre. It should not be about seeing the corpse of your neighbor wheeled out on a gurney.
I worry about Annie, too. She has always loved Halloween. Now it will be the day that her mom died. Will she become a weird woman who turns off her porch light to avoid trick-or-treaters?
It’s unfair when people die on holidays. It becomes a double loss: the life and the day. I’m sorry that I’m going to do that to people.
At least it’s not Christmas.
No. I don’t really like Halloween. Tombstones aren’t a fun decoration to me anymore. I wish spoiling the holiday wasn’t one more thing my mom had to worry about in her final days. I have a feeling that was part of the Man with Shadow Voice’s plan. Some added torture.
Yes, I was starting to believe in him, to believe all this. I couldn’t think of any other explanation. He felt more real with every page.
* * * * *
What happens next? Read the next part of the story here.
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