Posts tagged Halloween

Talking with the Dead

Though I have chosen a scary title for my Halloween blog, I have only precious memories in mind.

Holidays are a time when my lost loved ones are particularly on my mind. I remember things we did together, laugh quietly at converDSCN1024sations and times we shared.

I lost my father only two months ago. There are so many times that I find myself thinking, “I can’t wait to tell dad about that!” -then realizing that dad isn’t there to tell. My heart sinks as I think that the books and stories he wrote are all I will ever have. Memories constantly come into my mind of our days together. We were both strong willed and had our differences, but I was his only child and he loved me unconditionally.

I often feel that I never really knew my mom like I so desperately wanted to. She kept her past life very private. She was lively, funny and beautiful, I will always remember the funny things she would say, tricks she would pull, and the delicious treats she would make. My son loved her special dessert she called “Good Cake”. Still, there was a mystery about my mother that I sometimes connect with, a knowledge that she was so much like me, that when she saw me taking a “wrong turn”, she though of herself, and it caused her to close up inside. Since people tell me that I “look just like her”, I often wonder if our solemn, secretive natures were more similar than I will ever know. Perhaps the things she saw as regrets were different from mine only because of the time we lived in and the increasing acceptance of life’s choices.

Halloween, and then Las Dia de Los Muerte, in the Hispanic culture always bring back sweet, yet painful memories of my son. He was 15 when I lost him very suddenly in early October a few years back. October had always been my favorite month, and now it is only a long torture that ends in the very “celebration” of death, or at least a connection with the dead. My son and I were very close, every day is another trial in pain and sorrow. I literally lost my health because of his death, so I cannot for one minute forget it. My son loved Halloween, dressing up and going out with his older brothers and sisters when he was young, and then,with his friends as a young teen. He was quiet, but had a beautiful face, a sly smile, that I still see looking at me when my thought wander in quiet times.

I often visit the cemetery where they now lie, along with the old graveyard down the road where many of my elders are buried. It down and talk to them, cry for them, ask for their help, for reminders of their love, like the dimes I am constantly finding that have come to feel like a message from my son that he is with me. Since it is Halloween, I will mention the other special sign that I have with my son and my mom-I find Black Widow spiders on their graves, in the flowers, beside the stones. Its like they remember that I study insects and know that I will see them as a sign that they still dwell with me. I will look around and find no other Black Widows in the cemetery. That convinces me that it is a special and private symbol between us.

Talking to my lost loves provides me with a link to them, a closeness, that I never want to loose. I have never felt that I had to be in the cemetery to connect with them, but sometimes, being there, bringing a flower or a small symbol of something that reminds me of them, helps my aching soul. There is nothing to fear, and much to treasure when we refuse to let those that have been stolen from this earth to become stolen from our hearts.

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Silver Challis

“Alas! She laughed as he swooped into the parlor like some minor royalty. “He has surely forgotten his station!” She turned her silver Challis toward he lips and drank of the blood within., no one noticing as she licked a stray drop from her lip. “Soon, he would be reminded,” she smiled.

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Joseph and the Zombie

She walked into the restaurant/bar and sat down by another girl about her age-maybe in college?

Robyn didn’t usually frequent places with bars at night-alone, but her friends daughter was sick, so she decided to visit the place she often visited with friends from the university, hoping to meet up with some of them.

 Meeting up with someone she knew was more difficult than she expected, since everyone was in costume, and most had their faces disguised with make up or covered. The girl beside her was dressed up as a “Jeanie”, bottle in hand. Robyn was dressed as “Tinkerbelle”, a costume she felt a little silly dressed in, but she had liked the colors and the innocence of it.

 Soon Robyn and “Jeanie” were talking. They didn’t reveal their identities, but found out that they both went to the same university. After they discovered that they shared the same major, they had decided to try to discover their true identity at school the next day and get a laugh out of having knew each other from class, but not recognizing each other in costume.

 The evening went on, Robyn got up and danced with a handsome pirate who had ask asked for her company. Soon, she lost track on “Jeanie” and returned to her seat at the bar. The Pirate, who called himself “Joseph” and said he worked at a computer store near by seemed nice. Robyn sipped her drink as he told her about himself.

 The next thing Robyn remembered was walking up in an empty apartment, feeling like she had a hangover, and fearing she had done more than drink the rest of her drink at the bar. She looked around, but, saw no one. Fortunately her clothes wee folded neatly on a chair and she saw that she was dressed in a silky black robe. She hurriedly got dressed, and looked out the door.

 Not knowing where she was, she called a taxi to take her to her fraternity house. The clock said*:15 am, so she hurried dressed and made it to her 9:30 class, hoping to recognize the :Jeanie” from the night before. She didn’t have to wait long. A girl dressed in solid black, with earring shaped like spiderwebs came up to her and said, “Hi, I’m Jasmine, the girl from the bar last night.”

 For a moment, Robyn just stared, not knowing what to say or do. Suddenly, Jasmine smiled and took her hand. “Oh, I know why I couldn’t find you now,” she laughed.

 Still confused, Robyn whispered, “What?”

 “You met Joseph, didn’t you?” Jasmine said, head turned to one side, earring swaying.

“How did you know? Robyn said, shaking now, wondering if Jasmine had been in on it.

“Most every girl in the the frat house has ‘met’ him at one time or another.” Jasmine sighed. “Don’t worry, she said, patting Robyn’s shoulder, you’ll be alright”

 “Alright?” Robyn hissed.” I woke up in a hotel room with a black robe on, my clothes on a chair, not knowing how I got there or what had happened.”

 “Joseph is not his real name, no one knows what it is. He waits for a girl to go to the restroom or talk to a friend and exchanges her drink for one called a “Zombie” with a little bit of added ingredients.” Jasmine said.

 “And then what, waits till you can;t remember anything, takes you to a motel and rapes you?”Robin said, horrified.

 “NO, he doesn’t rape you, Robyn.” Jasmine, smiled, “ He just makes you a member of -um-group.”

 “Group, what group,” Robyn said, a tea flowing down her cheek.

 Slowly, Jasmine, flipped Robins long curly hair across her shoulder, and took a mirror from her pocket. On her neck, Robyn gasped, as she saw two marks.

 “Joseph is a Zombie, well, an a bit of a Vampire, you might say.” Jasmine told her as she put away the mirror. You can’t tell anyone what happened, that’s his only rule. If you don’t tell, you will never see him again. But if you do, you will never be rid of him,”

 “How do you know,” Robyn asked Jasmine.

 She smiled again as she turned away “I told.” she said simply and walked out the door.

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Halloween Hearts

I planted a seed and from it grew,
A giant, beautiful golden fruit.
I couldn’t bear to cut in apart,
Rather, I gently began to carve,
A ghostly tree, a moon gliding past.
A gravestone  with memories of the past.
A wisp of a cloud above the tall tree-
A witch on her broom-perhaps it is me!
We gather and smile, admiring our art,
Filling our nightmares and Halloween hearts.

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