Trick or Treat

Ding Dong! Ugh. Here they come again. Every year, this fateful day comes around, where parents dress their babies up as pumpkins, kids and eighty-year-old men disguise themselves as ghosts or ninjas, and everybody has to spend a butt-load of money on candy. I groan and walk over to the door, where I can hear kids chattering and giggling quietly amongst themselves. I open the door to a wave of,

“TRICK OR TREAT!!!” 

“Here you go,” I mutter in a surly tone, holding the bowl of candy out to the mini witches and black cats standing outside my house. I slam the door on them before they can say “thank you” and stomp back to my seat, huffing. Not seconds later, the doorbell rings again, and I open the door to another round of screaming children dressed in more ridiculous costumes. I desperately hope the annoyance displayed on my visage will scare them away before they even get the chance to scream those dreaded words in my ear. I slouch in my chair, mopping over the torture of this day and asking myself why I still choose to participate in such a stupid holiday. I’m still grumbling to myself when the doorbell goes off again. I scream and yell,

“Go away!”

The doorbell rings again, this time accompanied by a sharp rapping on the door.

“I said GO AWAY!” 

I march to the door and wrench it open and begin,

“I do not have time for-”

“Please, silence yourself, madam.”

I stop short and feel a shiver go down my spine. I feel my gaze being forced up by some power I can’t explain until I am looking right into this stranger’s eyes. Her eyes are a piercing clear blue and her black hair frames her face in a velvety waterfall.

“I beseech of you, please listen to me,” her soft voice washes over me and I find myself nodding and ushering her into my house. She walks with her back straight and her chin held high, but she holds an air of caution around her. I pull out a chair for her at my dining table and sit down across from her, still in a daze. I look at her up and down, from her angled face to the black boots poking out from a long, shimmery, gray robe. 

“W-who are you?” I stutter, my voice feeble and shakey.

“I am Eelyn. I come from a time and region you would never be able to comprehend. I cannot tell you more about myself at the moment, but you must understand my situation. I have been sent to this day and age on a perilous mission by my king, and I need a living person to complete it. So I entreat of you, please sit quietly and listen to me. I don’t want to have to force you into anything.”

A living person? Her king? Force me into anything? What does “entreat” even mean? I don’t understand a word of what she’s saying. 

“What do you mean, a “living person”? Who is this “king” of yours? I want nothing to do with you until I know what’s going on!” I demand. 

Eelyn sighs and folds her hands on the table.

“I guessed you would struggle to construe me. My speech is a bit prodigious for those in your day and age. You see, I am not living. Not, fully, in any case. My tribe is made of the deceased who were given the honor of a “half-life”. We are alive, but we cannot sleep, eat, age, or fully enjoy life. We are happy, yes, but we are not capable of feeling complete and overwhelming joy. We were recently told by a seer, however, that if we manage to take a human being to our time without using our magic, he will bring us back to full life,” Eelyn finishes with a sigh, her blue eyes meeting mine, “But there is one catch. The seer never told us what he wants the living person for. In other words, I am trying to impart to you that, if you come with me, I do not know what purpose this man has for you. He may need to perform a religious ritual, a sacrifice, or he may request that you stay with him as a servant. Regardless of what he asks, you need to have a servile heart if you are willing to take this risk.”

I stare at her and blink. This woman has to be crazy.

“Are you saying I could die? You want me to go with you to a place with a bunch of half-dead people so I can sacrifice my life so you people can be happy?”

“Yes.”

“Listen, Eelyn, I want you to be happy. It sounds terrible to be stuck in your position, and I really want to help you, but I don’t want to be dead within the next twenty-four hours.”

“Listen, Willow-”

I stand up and knock over my chair in the process. 

“How do you even know my name!? I never told you my name!”

“Willow, be quiet.”

Her power washes over me again and I am forced back into my seat. 

“I am not a rouge person, Willow. I would not lie to you about this. I have no desire to take your life away from you, as I know exactly what it is like not to have one. If you don’t want to come with me, I understand. What I ask of you is dangerous.”

I groan in exasperation.

"I can't just risk my life for a stranger! You have to be insane to expect me to go along with that! For all I know, you're just some crack-head who uses fancy words. I have no reason to trust you."

I ignore the fact that she obviously has some sort of magic control over me.

"You can't just expect someone you just met to go and risk their lives for supposedly "half-dead" people," I exclaim.

I get up again and stalk over to the back door, ready to get some fresh air. To my surprise, Eelyn does nothing to stop me. As soon as the cool air hits my face and I feel the wind rustling the leaves around me, I calm down. I take a deep breath and think about what just happened. I was brain-washed by a lady who wears really funky clothing and claims to not really be alive, and she needs a living person (me) so she can be happy again. But I might die if I go with her. What person in their right minds would agree to that barbarity? If I leave with the witch-lady, I might never come back. I might never see my house again, or my family, or my friends, or ever hear the torturous sounds of Halloween again. Suddenly, as the voices of the young and old wash over me, they become something sweet to me. Something strangely beautiful and unifying. And then, I think back to Eelyn, sitting alone in my living room. A girl from a different world, time, and culture who came all the way here to find happiness. A girl who hasn't smiled since I first saw her at my door. Isn't she just as deserving of happiness as the people screaming out on the streets are? Isn't her tribe and her king just as worthy of joy as those people out there are? Even if I don't understand her situation, and even if she is lying, what'll happen if I don't help her? How will I feel knowing that I could have brought someone happiness, but I didn't because I was afraid? I close my eyes and sigh gently. I'm going to go with her. Her tribe needs happiness, and I am going to choose to see it as an honor to be able to provide that.

"Eelyn? I'm coming with you," I call through the screen door.

I hear her walk up beside me and say,

"That makes me the happiest I have been in ages, Willow. Thank you."

A small smile spreads across my face. All those cheesy quotes on Instagram were right: happiness can be found anywhere, even in the most confusing places.