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   Story: All Hallowed’s Eve 1 of 2   
      
      
      
   Part 1   
      
   I   
      
   Halloween. My favorite holiday. The time when the spirit world is   
   closest to this one. When the demons, goblins, and nightmares run free,   
   at their most powerful against pious humans. Until the midnight strikes   
   heralding the coming of saints to save us from damnation.   
      
   Until midnight, prophecies, divination, and communing with spirits were   
   their most effective on this night. Adolescent girls of early America   
   would divine their future husbands and when they would marry. This was   
   the one night when even a good Christian girl could engage in minor   
   witchcraft.   
      
   And here I sit, casting coins for the I-Ching. I’m not interested in   
   love, just guidance. As I cast, I draw the hexagram the coins define.   
   K’un, the Receptive (yielding, submission). “If he tries to lead, he   
   goes astray; but if he follows, he finds guidance…Quiet perseverance   
   brings good fortune.” So this is how I’m supposed to act in order to   
   have a favorable outcome. Sometimes I think fate conspires against me.   
   Stacy would love this, she’s been telling me to go out and immerse   
   myself in the party. Maybe I’ll forget my pain for a little while.   
      
   Submission. My costume doesn’t fit, but it’s too late to change now. I’m   
   going as a vampire, an old standby. I hoped that wrapping myself in a   
   favorite visage might ease my spirit. My shoulder-length hair is gelled   
   back, a light dusting of white stage powder covers my face. My eyes are   
   lined in black and lips colored burnt-red with cosmetics I borrowed from   
   Stace. She’s the one dragging me out tonight.   
      
   Stace wants me to have some fun and leave my sorrow behind. But I fear   
   that my own personal demon rides with the others tonight: Ellen. I’m   
   wearing the cloak she made for me, a physical representation of my guilt   
   over her. It is beautiful, black velvet with satin lining and a hood.   
   She made it huge. It nearly reaches the floor, even with my 6’3” height.   
   I‘ll be plenty warm on this cool night.   
      
   A black band over my white stand-up collar finishes the outfit, in   
   mockery of a Roman Collar. I don’t need fake fangs. I grew only one set   
   of incisors, so my canines are closer together and a little long. My   
   teeth are the envy of the goth crowd.   
      
   I’m not ready for this, but I’ll never be more ready. As I step out of   
   the house, I recite to myself:K’un, Receptive, Yielding. Almost ironic   
   with my predator façade. Halloween is the one time we all dress up and   
   look exactly like who we are on the inside. We adopt our secret selves   
   while pretending to put on a mask. But not for me, tonight.   
      
   II   
      
   I drive to Stacy’s to pick her up. I let myself in her apartment because   
   she won’t be ready.   
      
   “It’s me. How long will it be Stace?” I yell through the doorway.   
      
   “I’m almost ready.” She replies from the bathroom. Almost ready, that   
   means another 20 minutes. If she said she was ready, that would mean at   
   least 5 more minutes.   
      
   “I’ll have a seat then.”   
      
   “Go look on the dining room table,” she says. “I got you something for   
   your outfit.”   
      
   Curious, I wander over and find a bottle of Chianti and a crystal goblet.   
      
   “You should drink that tonight, it will fit your costume better than   
   that mash whisky you seem to enjoy. I don’t know how you drink that   
   nasty stuff.” She comments.   
      
   “Thank you for the wine. Whisky is an acquired taste.”   
      
   “You mean it acquires enough of your taste buds. Maybe you should be   
   going as a penguin. They don’t have taste buds.”   
      
   “Very funny. I went as a nun last year.”   
      
   “And a sorry-looking woman you did present.”   
      
   “I don’t know why I’m doing this.” I say. “I don’t want to go out and be   
   social. I’m not ready for all those people.”   
      
   “We’ve been over this.” She sighs. “You do too need to be around people,   
   you’ve been hiding away for ten months now. I can’t remember the last   
   time you had a date. You have to go out, have some fun, maybe get laid.”   
      
   “No, you didn’t. Tell me you aren’t setting me up with someone. ”   
      
   “I didn’t. But you should loosen up, be open to the possibility. Stop   
   beating yourself up about Ellen. There was nothing you could have done,   
   that night or any other. And if you don’t get laid soon, I might just   
   have to set you up with Alisson. I think she’s bi.” She laughs. Alisson   
   is her current lust.   
      
   “How do I look?” she asks, joining me in the dining room.   
      
   “Very Marilyn. Truly the sex symbol reincarnate.” She’s doing Marilyn   
   Monroe in white, from the heating grate scene. Stacy is very pretty,   
   even dressed as someone else. Of course the dress emphasizes her   
   cleavage and legs, as if she needs any help.   
      
   “Thanks, it took me forever to do my hair right.”   
      
   “C’mon let’s get going.”   
      
   I grab the bottle and goblet as we head out the door.   
      
   We’re going to John and Stephen’s for a dethroning party. The elections   
   are a few days off, but we intend to celebrate the end to a 12-year era   
   of Republican representation in this state. John and Stephen have been   
   together for several years. Most of the men going to this bash are gay   
   too. I’m the token straight guy in the crowd.   
      
   III   
      
   When we arrive I note that I’m also one of the few guys not in drag. I   
   don’t see any Marilyns to compete with Stacy. Betty Davis from “Whatever   
   Happened To Baby Jane?” flits by, glass of gin in his hand.   
      
   I take a deep breath, relaxing as I exhale. Receptive. Yielding.   
      
   “William, Stacy, so good of you to join us.” A woman greets us. I look   
   again, it’s John. He does a damn attractive woman. But he’s the only one   
   that calls me William. To everyone else I’m Billy, or Scarecrow, a name   
   I picked up in high school.   
      
   “I had to threaten him with holy water to get him here.” Stacy jokes.   
      
   “What do you think?” John asks, showing off his outfit. He has on a   
   miniskirt that highlights his shaved, muscular legs and a baby-doll top   
   emphasizing a false bust.   
      
   “Delicious. ” Stacy says.   
      
   “I don’t know how you do it.” I shake my head. “If I didn’t know any   
   better I’d ask you out.”   
      
   “Sorry, he’s taken.” Stephen glides up to us, dressed as our   
   soon-to-be-deposed senator. He has a bit of a jealous streak, even with   
   me. He’s not convinced I’m straight. And John doesn’t help things by   
   being the center of attention everywhere they go.   
      
   “Where should I put this?” I ask, holding the Chianti bottle out.   
      
   “Stephen will show you.” John says. “I have guests to welcome. ”   
      
   Stephen doesn’t look too thrilled, but he leads me over to the liquor   
   cabinet. “Corkscrew?” he asks.   
      
   “No thanks.” I pull out my Lagouile folding knife and proceed to remove   
   the wrapping and then the cork. When I get it opened, I pour myself a   
   small amount. To let it breathe, I leave the bottle opened in the cabinet.   
      
   I move about the downstairs, swirling the wine as I wander. It’s   
   actually quite good, with a deep flavor. I chat briefly with a few   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)