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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Horror/Scary · #2284127
I dislike Hallowe'en. No--I hate it, abhor it, detest it, loathe it.
I don't just dislike Hallowe'en. No--I hate it, abhor it, detest it, loathe it. Most foul of days, most repulsive of celebrations, most repugnant of times, it is the blackest and most wicked square on the calendar. On that day of trick-or-treat, fate denied treats and played the cruelest of tricks.

It had started out fine. We went to a party, my fiancée Jardeene and I, a costume party put on by the travel agency for which she worked. It was a terrific party, everything you'd want of a Hallowe'en party. The DJ had been super, a bearded dude with a great sense of humor, who kept us dancing and laughing by cranking out hit after hit and joke after wisecrack. The buffet had been scrumptious, with silly theme foods like French bread mummy pizzas, cupcakes like little ghosts, hot dogs wrapped in dough like mummies, pasta in red sauce made out to be intestines, hard-boiled eyeball eggs. Remembering those now makes me want to puke.

The costumes were the usual stuff. Sexy nurses, pirates, a couple of shepherdesses, some witches and warlocks. Jardeene went as Wonder Woman and I dressed as Superman, but we weren't all that original as there were a couple more of each. But it was fun, and we were a colorful group on the dance floor, dizzily spinning colors. That too is a memory of horror.

The cash bar was well stocked, and Hallowe'en spirit flowed freely. The party was getting noisier and rowdier, with lots of laughter and people singing to the DJ and the dancing getting wilder and more boisterous. Jardeen had a glow on, but I was the designated driver, so after one bourbon and branch, I stuck to soda. Whatever the cops said after, I know I was sober.

We left the party early, heading home to make love. Perhaps that is the cruelest memory of all.

A giant fist punched me in the ribs with a horrid thump, and the world swirled by at dizzying speed. At the same time, a vice clamped around my head and twisted hard. When things stopped spinning, that was when the horror set in. The body of a blue SUV was smashed into the passenger side of our car. Jardeen's seat was pushed over, her body against mine, her head a mass of blood wedged into the passenger window, one eye dangling on her cheek. I wasn't able to move my head to look away.

The cruelest trick was not only that Jardeen died but that I lived, paralyzed and forced to remember the foulness that is Hallowe'en. The day I hate, abhor, detest, and loathe.

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