The Reaper

2,000 years. Humans have been celebrating Halloween for 2,000 years.

But not me. Years of celebrating Halloween with parents? 12,and Halloweens by myself? A whopping zero. This year, though, all of that will change. I’m 13 now. Everyone knows that 13 is a teenager, 13 is the archetype of Halloween, and 13 is old enough to trick-or-treat alone. 

With a friend. Whatever.

I look over at my new friend, the one who agreed to go trick or treating with me… didn’t she? What’s her name again?

“Sarah.” I must’ve asked out loud because she answers me with a strong voice. An adult voice. I’m an adult now too so I respond with my strong voice.

“I know that. You think I don’t know my best friend’s name?” We are best friends… aren’t we? “I’ve known you for forever!” Haven’t I? 

She smiles at me. Sarah is always smiling at me and I think that means she likes me. My mom smiles at my dad and she likes him- a lot. A faint flush creeps up my cheeks so I turn back towards my costumed reflection in the mirror. What would my other friends say about this? A crush on a girl is a huge deal for a seventh grader.

I turn and frown at Sarah.

She looks my age. She’s dressed as a ghost, her grey and white hood barely concealing her green eyes. “Sarah, you’ve met my friends, haven’t you? Jack and the others?” The same small smile remains plastered to her tanned face. 

“Of course, silly! We’re in the same grade.” Oh, duh. Images of Sarah’s brown hair bent in concentration in math class and then shaking with laughter at lunch fill my mind’s eye. Sarah is cool. I like Sarah… What was I doing again?

My costume. Right.

It’s Halloween and I’m going out on my own. I’m 13, I’m old enough.

Righ- “Are you done admiring yourself, Hunter? It’s 8, all of the good houses are putting out candy.” Sarah’s voice takes on a nasally whine. “We’re gonna miss out on scaring all those dumb kids!” She laughs but doesn’t break eye contact. I’m not a dumb kid anymore. Mom made me wear a hot dog outfit a couple years ago that was so embarrassing. This year, I got to choose my own- and it is perfect.

I’m the Reaper.

My scythe and black robe look so realistic, I bet Sarah a bag of candy that I can make all those dumb kids cry. She agrees with me enthusiastically, before rising from the chair in the corner of my room. We make our way down the stairs and my mother blissfully ignores us from her spot on the living room couch. She must really think I’m an adult now. Finally!

At 8:15, Sarah and I hide behind one of the trees lining the neighborhood sidewalk. Our targets creep closer. Just before the pirate and ninja pair round the corner, I leap from my spot, swinging my scythe and shouting indecipherable threats. One screams and throws his candy; the other simply runs, leaving his friend behind. Laughter has me bending double with tears springing from my eyes. I turn towards Sarah. She’s not laughing but instead, watches the juvenile pirate cringing in front of us with a look I can’t describe but stops my merriment immediately.

Hunger.

“Run! Run, boy! Before we catch you and chop you up in little pieces!” Sarah lunges and stops just short of the kid’s cowering frame. “I’ll devour your heart and boil your eyes in your head! I’ll drag your body to my lair and feast on it for months to come!” She’s laughing now. Only, I am not. Her voice deepens, multiplies and echoes through the night air. Sarah lobs threat after threat at the poor kid, he screams, and I start to back away. The first emotion I’ve seen darken her eyes is joy and it’s while she’s crouching over a child.

“Sarah…” My whisper is whipped away in the howling wind.

She doesn’t listen. The blood freezes in my veins. Warning bells sound in my ears. This is not okay. I find myself yelling over her, yelling over the wind. “Stop! Sarah, stop!”

This time, she hears me. From her stooped position, her dark head whips on her neck, extending past her shoulder, to look at me. Sarah’s eyes bore into mine. Black bleeds from her pupils past her irises and into the whites.

She straightens…

and her head… brushes a tree limb seven feet up. Her legs stretch on and on and her smile is full of sharp, sharp teeth and – and I blink. She’s shorter than me again. Her teeth are… normal. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, goosebumps break out along my arms. Something isn’t right. Sarah is just a girl, but what I saw for that brief moment- that was a monster.

“I- I think it’s time for me to go home.” How stupid I was to think 13 is an adult, I’m not old enough to be alone…

Alone? I’m not alone. I have Sarah. From math class. Normal, teenaged Sarah. Remember? I like Sarah.

“Hunter, why? We just got started! I owe you a bag of candy, right?” Sarah moves closer until we’re nose to nose. She smiles a vicious smile, though it doesn’t reach her brown eyes. Brown? No, no, something is wrong. “Don’t tell me you’re scared. That was just a game.”

That hits like a punch. Scared? Me? I’m a man! Men aren’t scared of anything, not even brown irises on a previously green-eyed girl… Actually, I realize they’re green again. 

I’m seeing things, I must be. Yes, that’s it. It’s the dark, the candy, the mask, the… everything. Just a trick of the eye… Sarah is cool. I like Sarah.

Then why am I still shaking?

“I’m not scared!” I lie. “It’s just that my mom gets scared at night, so I really need to be home. For her. You know, my dad gets scared too, but I don’t. That’s all.” She backs off at that. Sighs hard enough to shake the – black? – robes falling from her thin frame. My own slightly thicker frame slumps in relief. I’m getting out of here. We’re getting out of here. She’s my best friend… Isn’t she?

As we turn, the shadows cut the harsh angles of her face and momentarily shift the innocent prepubescent into an ageless horror. That’s the funny thing about darkness. Sometimes, it hides the monsters lurking within but other times… other times it unveils them.

I feel unveiled. I feel exposed and vulnerable… like prey. Eying Sarah at my side, a feeling settles in my gut. It tells me to run. 

Where did I meet her? How did I meet her? Those memories from earlier seem so hazy now. In fact, I can’t recall them at all… I don’t even remember waking up this morning. Or choosing this costume with my mom. Where is my mom? Panic begins to grow in my stomach, it pulls on my heart and quickens my breath. 

There, at the end of the walkway, myhouse looms. It glows in the gloom of the surrounding nightand its glow breaks through the tightness in my chest. The yellow shutters sing a lullaby of comfort and safety.

No longer the 13 year old adult, I begin to run. Up the steps, through the front door my dad painted last week and into the dimly lit living room. My mom, still seated in her same seat, doesn’t react to my sudden entrance. My dad stands beside her with his hand on her shoulder. Their faces are shuttered. Their eyes are devoid of all emotion. As my mouth drops open in shock and confusion, I turn slowly to my companion. “What…” I begin. I swallow hard against the icy grip fear has closed around my throat. “What did you do to them?”

Sarah doesn’t bother looking at the sullen image my parents create.

“I didn’t do anything to them.” It’s hard not to notice the emphasis on them. I back away from her, closer to my parents, to my safety. I don’t know a Sarah. I have never seen this girl before in my life. Her faces twists into something unrecognizable. 

“Who are you?” My voice is quiet and timid because I know. I know because I hear the terrible truth in her words, and I see the form underneath her skin. And I remember.

I remember my last day alive.

The Reaper’s hood tilts down. In that black abyss beneath, a slit of white lips materialize. Those lips spread wide… too wide… and reveal rows of sharp, yellow teeth. 

“Looks like we should switch costumes.”