The Summoning

Everything was ready for the ritual. My supplies were lined up in the sand like soldiers prepared for battle, and my hands shook with nervous anticipation. I was in way over my head, but I had to maintain my facade — to make them believe I was who (or what) I claimed to be. I knew she was watching, and if I let my guard down now, I’d be the laughing stock of the whole school. My entire reputation was in the balance this Halloween night.

Here goes nothing, I thought, as I closed my eyes and turned my face upward toward the full moon…

Before I recount the strangest night of my life — the night I was finally noticed by the hottest girl in school — let me explain how I ended up leading an ancient ritual to conjure up spirits of the dead. 

Like all great predicaments do, it started with a pretty girl. If only I could behave like normal guys who play basketball and wear letterman jackets and ask girls to movies and brag about drinking their dad’s beers — but nah, I had to be extra. Really freaking extra. So here I was preparing to frolic around a bonfire to impress her.   

It all started in World History when our teacher was talking about the origins of Halloween. Shannon and her friends were sitting in the back corner near the windows, and on most days, they’d be whispering about Travis the hot quarterback or their new favorite brand of false eyelashes or how many calories they had left to consume the day. And me? I would be staring at my notebook, hanging on every stupid word they said, wishing I could muster up the courage to actually talk to her and about that low cal avocado toast she had for breakfast.

On this particular Tuesday, Mr. Castillo had the undivided attention of every student in fifth period, which was a monumental feat for a balding middle-aged man with a beer belly and an eclectic collection of dad sweaters. He was thoroughly enjoying his moment in the spotlight, gesturing dramatically, as he described the Gaelic Samhain festivals that have been celebrated for centuries in Ancient Europe. 

We’d learned about All Saints’ Day — and who hadn’t seen Coco, the Disney movie where that little boy visits the Land of the Dead? — but something about the way Mr. Castillo described those late-night Samhain rituals made it all seem so magical. So alluring. So possible. 

“Imagine yourself in Ireland thousands of years ago, believing the portal to the Dead was about to open up, and who knows what was going to come looking for you!” He glanced around excitedly, soaking up every second of this. “So, the Caeltic people built bonfires to protect themselves from evil spirits. They also tried to conjure the spirits of their loved ones who had passed on by setting an extra place at the table that night.”

As a 16-year-old guy, I was really only thinking about one thing, and it had nothing to do with dead people. Shannon’s eyes were big and round, her long lashes brushing her eyebrows as she exclaimed with pink glossed lips, “So, did it work?” 

Mr. Castillo paused for a moment before responding, intentionally adding an air of drama to his lesson. “Well, there are hundreds of documented stories claiming that it did….but I guess whether you believe them is up to you.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows up and down a few times for added effect.

I wasn’t buying any of this spooky ghost garbage, but Shannon was eating it up, and I decided to make my move. Well, in the cowardly, roundabout way that was kind of my specialty. I blurted out “My family is Irish and we’ve had — er, taken part in — Samhain rituals every Halloween for years.” I tried to look bored. Like this information was old news.

Every eye was on me, and I could feel Shannon’s gaze shift in my direction for the first time in my existence. This gave me the courage to continue, “Yeah, uh, my parents have this tradition where we build a bonfire on Halloween night and we perform a ritual to bring back the spirits of our ancestors. It works every time, we just don’t like to talk about it. You know...”

Mr. Castillo looked perplexed and a little annoyed about having the spotlight stolen, but the bell was about to ring anyway. “Ok, guys, hope you have a safe holiday. Try not to conjure up any evil spirits, okay?” he said with a nervous laugh. 

As the bell rang, several classmates gathered around my desk, asking questions about my supposed family ritual. I did my best to brush them off because Shannon was walking toward me. I gathered my things and started to walk toward the door, slowly enough that she could catch up. 

“Does your family really have a Samhain ritual every year?” she asked. “Oh, yeah,” I said, pretending like it was no big deal. “That sounds so cool. I wonder if we could bring back the spirit of like, Marilyn Monroe or Ghandi or something,” she said excitedly. “Oh, yeah, we’ve brought back all kinds of spirits, I said, lying through my teeth. And before thinking about the full ramifications of what I was about to say, four words tumbled out of my mouth. “You should come tonight.”

“Really?!” she exclaimed, flashing me a smile that made me utter the next words. “Sure, bring some friends if you want.” Meet me at the beach fire pit at 10pm” I said. As I turned the corner, the weight of what I’d just said began to sink in.

When I got home, I hurried to the computer and began to Google everything I could about the Samhain festival, jotting down notes in a spiral-bound notebook. I grabbed my dad’s brown linen robe, some kindling, and my notes. For good measure, I printed off some Pagan spells and took a shower to make sure I was putting my best Samhain foot forward. I felt like such an imposter — I was an imposter. I just had no idea I’d end up summoning up far more than a girl’s affection.

When 9:30 rolled around, I drove over to the beach and headed to the fire pit. I laid out my supplies across a bath towel that I’d brought from home, and I threw on my dad’s brown linen robe to fully look the part. Or at least that’s how I imagined a Samhain bonfire ritual leader probably dressed.

As my classmates arrived, I solemnly asked them to remain silent, gesturing that they stand near the fire, gazing into its flames. “Clear your mind and imagine the person you’d like to see tonight,” I said in my lowest, hopefully sexiest voice. 

Here I was in my dad’s bathrobe, fully committing to the idea that I could summon fake ghosts in order to impress my true love. Or at least get her to go out with me sometime. Me, the quiet kid with greasy hair who sat in the back of the class, eavesdropping on everybody else’s conversations. 

Turning my face toward the full moon and lifting my hands on either side of my body, I cleared my throat and shouted like the warrior I was. 

“I AM COLIN, THE DESCENDENT OF IRISH IMMIGRANTS WHO HAVE PERFORMED THIS RITUAL FOR GENERATIONS! COME, SPIRITS AND SPEAK TO US TONIGHT!” 

Thinking quickly, I started chanting the words of a random Pagan spell that I’d read online earlier that afternoon. I peeked to my left, and seeing that my peers were totally on board, I began leading them counterclockwise, around the fire. 

This continued, and many of my peers began to chant with me, as they picked up on the repetitive nonsensical words I was calling out. At this point, I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with such a brilliant plan.

Suddenly, we heard the clop clopping of a horse drawing near, and I turned my gaze toward the sound. Just out of the fire’s orange glow, a man on horseback had stopped, and was watching us intently. Beyond the crackle of the fire and the lapping of the waves, silence had fallen on the beach. Finally, he spoke.

“Have you seen my bride?” he asked in a deep baritone voice. 

"Uh, no, I mean — your bride?” I asked, trying to sound authoritative. Like this was totally expected. 

“Yessir.” he said, “She’s late to our wedding and I’m afraid she’s run off. I had some business to attend to, but I’m ready.”

I glanced around and saw Shannon watching him, her face a question mark. I exclaimed “Sorry, man. We haven’t seen your bride.” Then I puffed up my chest and added loudly, “Is there anything you want to tell us on this Halloween night?” 

“If you see her, tell her I love her,” he exclaimed, dipping his head in thanks. And I’m sorry...” he said in a choked voice.

With that, he gave the reins a quick jerk and the horse galloped off.

Opening my mouth to attempt to explain what just happened, I was silenced as a white glow appeared over the water. Far enough that we couldn’t make out details, a woman hovered above the surface, her long hair floating around and above her. Lengths of white fabric blew in the wind, billowing around her and making her look angelic. 

“WALTER!” Her voice filled the sky, bursting with anguish and a sense of urgency.

“Walter, I’m here! Where are you?! I forgive you!” she cried, wailing in a way that made my eyes burn with the threat of oncoming tears. Attempting to save face, I wiped my robe sleeve across my eyes and yelled in my most authoritative voice, “What do you want from us?” I asked. “And who’s Walter?”

But she didn’t respond. She didn’t acknowledge us at all. The horrifyingly beautiful woman continued sobbing, calling out for Walter, as we stood motionless, unable to look away from this hauntingly magnificent spectacle. After several minutes of her cries echoing across the ocean’s surface, the woman-like being slowly began to dissolve like a fine mist into the atmosphere, her voice fading away until we couldn’t hear or see her any longer. 

I looked around, noticing everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for an explanation from their experienced ritual leader. Several girls were weeping quietly, while others were shaking in fear. Shannon, on the other hand, was beaming with delight. 

“Colin! How did you DO that?! Was this all a prank? Like, I’m not even mad, but seriously, tell me how you pulled this off!”

“I have NO idea,” I responded, sounding more like a scared little boy than I cared to admit. I looked around, racking my brain for a simple explanation, trying desperately to pull myself together. 

Minutes passed. Everyone stood around the fire chattering loudly, trying to explain the event in the most logical way.

“Maybe it was just heat lightning,” Shannon’s friend Megan exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Or someone got us good,” Sam laughed, elbowing his friends like he wasn’t fooled at all.

Shannon made her way over to me, asking my opinion about what had just transpired. All that remained of the bonfire was a deep red glow of burning embers, and suddenly, the night became cool and breezy. As we talked, Shannon nestled in closer to me and I found myself sharing a real conversation with a woman. In my dad’s bathrobe. But it’s cool.

Together, we decided that someone had projected images into the sky in some elaborate prank that they’d eventually fess up to. Confident in our conclusion, we began walking back to our cars.

“Guys! Look at this!” Megan shouted behind us. 

Looking down at the sand, she pointed, her mouth agape. Our eyes followed her outstretched finger to discover a trail of hoofprints along the beach. I lifted my gaze to a point where the prints abruptly stopped, like the horse had vanished into thin air.

“Walter,” Shannon whispered. “I bet she was his bride, and he just missed her!” 

She threw herself into my arms, absolutely devastated about these star-crossed ghost lovers, and with a whisper of thanks to the ghost world, I wrapped my arms around her. 

To this day, we never discovered what happened to Walter and his bride, or whether they were even real. But thanks to that night around the bonfire, Shannon asked me to the winter formal and kissed me on her porch when I dropped her off. 

I like to think the universe was there to help a brother out by sending a wingman from the Other Side. Or maybe my game was so pathetic, it took a ghost to get a girl to notice me. Either way, I hope Walter found his bride. And I hope they made it to their wedding.