Call out to the Dead

I attend all of one party a year. This year it was the small town’s college age -and some even younger- Halloween party. At the lovely scenic location of absolutely nowhere -not that I have room to talk about that- where people were going to be dressed in their finest skimpy outfits and surrounding all the little bonfires like they were the lifeblood of the party inhabitants.

The most I could muster up for the party was my own early fall clothes with zombie make-up. Joanne would poke fun but she’s going to wish she’d come as me.

Joanne was a spirited, beautiful, person that had been my best friend since we were 12. She’d been with me through the worst. She had hair longer than mine, dark as night, and eyes honey brown. She was the one who really got me out of my house the best.

I found my way to the clearing in the wood with the help of some haphazardly created signs and I saw exactly what I’d anticipated. People wearing their costumes with their clashing coats. Cliche plastic cups were in every hand because in a town the size of ours people in their late teens-early twenties only drank on two occasions; when it was their birthday and when it wasn’t.

I plastered on a smile and sauntered in looking for Joanne, Kelsey(our little pale brunette spazball), and Valarie(the token ginger).

It didn’t take long to find them with some simple meandering. When their eyes were met with me as I approached they all seemed to be perfectly synchronized as they rolled them.

“Darling, you never get into the spirit.” Jo the flamenco dancer spoke somewhat dramatically as she bat her black and red lace fan at me.

“Logic before feeling love.” I said offhandedly gazing up to the sky.

Valarie dressed as a mechanic was the most ironic, she could barely pump her own gas. “I told everybody, ‘Think “warm” because “sexy” just makes you sad.’” The patch on her oversized grey coverall read “Earl” and she wore a white thermal underneath. Yeah, she’d thought smart too.

“We’re going to be the happiest at the end of the night.” I added easily. Unfortunately that wasn’t exactly true.

There were traditional games, music, dancing, booze, and food but I still longed for the peace of my quiet house.

There was laughter, bubbling conversation all around me, people acting crazy, being alive, yet I wasn’t happy there.

I excused myself to find some quiet solace in the surrounding wood.

If serenity was what I was looking for I took a wrong turn.

I walked not ten feet from the main clearing before stumbling upon a smaller one with 3 people filling it.

All of the eyes fell to me, they were all quite bleary, worse for wear and tear, and these were kids who should have been “cut off” a few hours ago. The one crouched in the center -the only boy- dressed as the grim reaper waved me over. “Come play with the ouija board! It’s Hallo-fucking-Ween!”

“Fuck no.” My instant reaction. I don’t trust playing with forces -no matter how cynically I look at them- outside my control.

“Afraid of what the dead have to say to you?” One of the girl’s viciously spit. She knew who I was, her statement made it obvious. Her face contorting bunny make-up left me with not a clue as to whom she was.

I wasn’t afraid of anything. I’d faced the worst and come out unscathed. Nothing I can say will help you make sense of what I did next.

I stubbornly stomped up to the rock the board was flat upon and dropped down next to them.

Jo was never allowed to say I didn’t get into the spirit ever again. This was more ‘in the spirit’ than anyone ever belonged.

We all put our hands on the eye -the planchette- and no matter how I dreaded what was about to go on I couldn’t make myself stop and rethink.

“Ask something.” Grim instructed.

The gypsy to my left was the first to holler out, “Can you tell me the name of the man I’m gonna marry?” Classic small town syndrome.

I felt the thing start to move beneath my fingers. My eyes snapped up trying to figure out who was directing it but they all looked as jarred as me. This was a nice tall glass of what-the-fuckary.

It glided over to the “Yes” effortlessly.

“What will my husband’s name be?” Her voice had gone up a full octave. Fear was just as big a factor as eagerness.

Then it floated over the letters:

“I” “D” “I” “D” “N” “T” “S” “A” “Y” “W” “O” “U” “L” “D”

“Holy shit.” Bunny Bitch muttered out.

My logic and rationality were on overload. “Are you trying to convince me this supernatural bullshit is real?” I spoke fiercely, blue eyes blazing, locking on a very much sobered Grim.

When his eyes finally drifted up to mine I could see this was no longer a game to him.

It started to move again.

“Y” “O” “U” “S” “H” “A” “L” “L” “S” “E” “E”

Then shit got really fucked up.

The board trembled beneath out fingers and our hands whipped away. The planchette launched over to the “Hello” which started glowing originating from the center of the word and flushing its way out. I was running before anything freakier could happen.

My legs were taking me back to my car faster than I could calculate ignoring the shouts of my name as I raced by people narrowly avoiding crashing into a few. I was in my car and my tires were screeching before I could give any of it a second thought.

This all had to have been just a bad dream.