Terrified

On All Hallows Eve, the the night stretches from street to avenue and the drizzling rain dampens the trickster souls dressed as innocent children that roam the corners of purgatory. I've never trusted the streets on this dangerous day. One never knows if there might be a serial killer in disguise among the other lost souls... one that can actually end the night by transporting you into the realm of the Hallows. I don't trust these unknown violent spirits that float around the darkness and swoosh by the ones outside their usual boundaries. As my mother said, when she lived in Transylvania as a child, no one was allowed to even think about leaving their rooms that night. The parents would keep their children in their room, trapped behind the blood of a sacrificial lamb splattered on the door. They'd speak in hushed tones, their small voices bare;y heard by the siblings crowded in the armoir beside them. Father used to tell them that if they made any noises, the evil spirits would know that there are living bodies waiting to be possessed, and so they would somehow sweep above their home and into their hiding place. Of course, she said, that was in Romania. We are now not in Romania any longer.

But, you never know, she said.

Evil spirits don't care about places. They care about souls.