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For everyone who knows that Halloween is a state of mind not a time of year.
Most people will tell you growing up means you stop believing in Halloween things — I’m telling you the reverse. You start to grow up when you understand that the stuff that scares you is part of the air you breathe.
Human men always thought themselves more strong, more capable than they truly were, so when something indeed extraordinary happened—they tended to think it commonplace or a confirmation of their brilliance. It was a fatal flaw that I found women did not possess. Though everyone on my side of the veil knew women to be much stronger than men, regardless.
Grief was the longest, most enduring love and form of self-torment.
“Sometimes,” I said, standing and approaching the altar, “the world needs an evil to look to just as much as it needs a light. Villains and devils are mirrors in a sense.” I struck a match, and the flame twirled and danced for its master. “Everyone wants to be the hero, James. But few are brave enough to be a demon in a world that idolizes the angels.” I lit a candle. “Judas to Jesus… what would humanity have done without his sacrifice?”
Each year, the church itself disturbed me more than the tales of demons.
frightened within my bravery but still brave all the same. The two feelings, I’d learned, could coexist.
It was why I enjoyed photography and baking, I supposed. They were each art forms that held something as the same forever. An image would remain locked in time eternally the same way a recipe would ignite the same flavors of hundreds of past years over your tongue and through your mind in an instant.
Death came silently and with no warning. One could not see her nor predict her arrival. And what a breathtaking gift that was.
