Present;

31 October 2016

A young man was comfortably seated in his dimly-lit study; a plastic bowl of candies was on the elegant table by his side. The Sound of Silence played in the background, in a loop, coming from a vintage phonograph, and he was staring out by the window, gazing deep in the darkness of the night, a darkness lit only by the moonlight, the same way that his messy black hairs were lit by a thick strand of white. His dark eyes had that look that one has upon deep in thoughts, and his feet tapped unconsciously at the beat of the song: one could see that it had a deeper and more personal meaning to him. At the climax of the tune, his stare turned sadder. He opened the small pocket-watch he wore, gazed not only at the hour but at a small drawing in the originally empty part of the watch. A drawing of a young woman, smiling kindly, sharing his black hair and dark eyes.

One hour after midnight stroked on the grandfather's clock somewhere in the house, and he startled. With a hopeful look on his face, he rose from his couch, walked to the back-door, and opened it. It led to a terrace, where a dining table was standing amidst the moonlight, lit with candlelights, and dressed in the best table clothes. A plate and wine glass stood upon the table, put there by the young man last evening, filled with delicacies and wine, now empty at the exception of a single precious stone lying in the middle of the plate. A pink diamond.

He smiled with delight, a delight shadowed with a hint of sadness, but delight nonetheless. He picked up the diamond, kissed it softly, and looked toward the forest bordering the village and, by extension, his house. He looked back at the unique diamond, and knew she kept her promise. For one more year, one more day, she came to visit him, to reassure him, show him she remembered him. Like each 31st October for the last 22 years.

22 years ago;

31 October 1994

Samhain. The Day of the Dead. The day the veil between our world and the Spirit world weakened, and could interact with one another.

A young teen watched midnight creep up on the old grandfather's clock in the abandoned house. His parents were away for the week, both had to work double shifts, and too poor to afford a nanny. But the 13-year boy assured them that within the bolted house, he will be safe. It wasn't a lie, he was indeed safe. He knew like the back of his hand all the hiding places, and most of all, all the delicate knowledge about traps and alternate warfare. But tonight, he wasn't thinking about being safe. For the first time in 13 years, he was alone when midnight will tick-tock. When Halloween will be upon him. When the dead...

His heart leapt for the first time in his young heart. Something he lost any hope to have as a feeling. His thoughts went to the plan he prepared during all these years, but only tonight will he finally unveil.

Restless, he jumped on his feet, and paced wildly as the clock slowly moved across the 11th section, like a clock always do when one wait with impatience.

Fear replaced excitement, and he started to doubt: what if nothing happened? What if he would hope, but it was all for naught? What if a myth was only exactly that: a myth? He began to despair. Please, please, he thought, don't let me down, not tonight, not after all these years of hopeless hoping. He stopped, sighed, and then startled. He didn't had much time, but he could always try a little idea. A little magic.

He stooped on his knees, resting on his heels, facing the West. Why the West? No idea. Everything magical always seemed to happen when he faced the West. Thoughts of Valinor, the fictional Heaven in the books of his favourite writer, which resided in the West, crossed the young boy's mind, but he brushed it aside. He was trying this for the first time, he had to have it right. How was it again? Ah, yes, the symbol of the Buffalo. The Native American totem; the symbol of gift, wishes coming true, but also tainted with the stain of the sacred. And for some reason, its symbol resembling crudely that of the Great Dipper.

He sighed heavily, noticed he still had ten minutes left before October 31st, and he started the ritual. He put his hands in a prayer position, and prayed for his greatest wish. Once he finished the sentence, he drew in the air, with his finger, the form of the Great Dipper, then bowed, thanking. He did this 19th time, each time unconsciously more desperate. Why 19 times, he will never know; all he knew was that somehow, this was the important number.

The unused side of his brain kept thinking in a loop "Please make this work, today of all days". At his 19th and last sequence, he bowed deeper, and brought himself on his knees. He thought back, and slapped himself on the hand, thinking how silly that must have looked. As if drawing symbol in the air would help, or as if God hadn't better things to do and grant as wishes than those of a little insignificant teenager who wished for the impossible.

12 o'clock shimmered, snapping the young boy out of his self-mockery, and he realized it was time: Samhain was upon him. His heart sank, he knew he was silly to hope for such an impossible wish. But it was now or never. Better be disappointed and snapped from your fantasies than protecting them and live in ignorance.

He took his dark cloak, made sure all his clothings were inside out, salt and various bits of irons in all his pockets, and hood covering his face. There was only one spirit he wanted to meet; no need to attract them all. Readying himself, he unbolted the back door of his house, and stepped into the decorated street. No one was yet celebrating; the world was waiting for tonight, not the very early morning.

He set out toward a little entrance to the forest that ran parallel to the town. While exploring it earlier in his childhood years, he found a mound deep in the heart of the forest. Something about that small hill fascinated him, and with this unimaginable accurate intuition of young childhood, the young boy knew the mound was somehow important. Imagine his surprise when later in his life, he learned that mounds played great roles in Celtic mythology, and many sightings of the Otherworld, the spirit world, occurred there. That was when he started planning.

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During his small journey to the forest, the young teenager felt unusual. Something was going on. He both felt relieved and idiotic to be wearing the iron bits and the salt, as he often imagined hearing voices around him, seeing shapes of bodies. But he continued on undeterred, thinking often how his parents would react upon discovering that he went traveling alone to the woods; but these thoughts didn't stopped him.

He finally arrived at the mound, and something was distinctively different about it. It seemed to be... out-of-focus. There yet not there.

He dropped his cloak to the ground, put back his clothing seams inside, shook out of his pockets the salt and iron bits, and wrapped the bits in his cloak so none remained on the ground; finally, he climbed to the mound. He was now unafraid, all he wanted was the truth.

He waited and waited, but each time the feeling that he wasn't alone grew, and he was sure he could make out some humanoid shape, not bothering him, just going on their way. Some went to the town, some spread across the forest, but all seemed to originate from the small hill.

Then, he heard her:

"David?"

He turned and was face to face to a young woman. She looked older than him, but the features were exactly as when he saw her picture, when she was eleven. A few months before a brain cancer took her away from her family. Took her away from her young brother, who was only five. Tears welled in the young boy's eyes, despite his small attempts to remain strong. He found he could say no words, could only look at his sister standing there, smiling with compassion and understanding. She got closer, and hugged him, burying his face in her neck, holding him tight as he cried as silently as he could.

A part of David's mind noticed with curious detachment how his sister felt both physical, yet something was still off, like part of her materiality was lacking. The most dominant part of him however both relished and grieved over finally seeing the sister he adored, whom was taken so unjustly from him when he most needed her. After a few minutes, when his grief subdued, when all the tears he needed to shed since a long time fell, he unlocked himself from her tender hold, and looked in her eyes. She was still smiling, though he could see how she was too affected by their bittersweet reunion, and she held on to his hands, also looking her brother over. She ran an ethereal finger on his wet cheeks, her own tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hello, brother," she whispered softly. She opened her other hand, and revealed a small pink diamond. "Found this for you."

David didn't knew what to say. Eight years he prepared for this day, and now he could only look at her. Gathering enough will to speak, he asked the one question that burned him:

"Why only now?"

His sister pointed behind her, to the top of the mound.

"Only when we're close enough to the mound can you see me. Would I walk further away, you wouldn't. The mound is the portal between both our worlds, so the distortion is more visible the closer you get to the portal."

She paused, as if unsure to continue; but resolved to say it anyway:

"I visited every year, but you were never there."

"I couldn't; you know how our parents were strict about going out at night," David defended himself, hurt. "And beside, I had no idea how to find you! I was only five when you..." his voice broke at the memory.

"Sshh, I know," she comforted him, holding softly the side of his face. "But now you know too. And there will be some years when you won't be able to see me; but remember this, David..." she looked at him straight in his dark eyes, "I will always come see you every year, that you see me or not."

She hugged him once more, this time even more tight, and when they broke it off, she handed him the diamond.

David smiled for the first time, and his sister returned the smile.

Present;

31 October 2016

Gabzryel David Summerfield held the pink diamond he picked from the empty plate. A tradition that began upon his first meeting with his dead sister, the day he learned that some myths had a ring of truth to them; since that meeting, he followed the old Celtic tradition of putting a plate full of the food that his sister loved, and upon finding it empty and the contents replaced by a pink diamond, he would know that she came by to visit him, like she promised.

He smiled, with a bittersweet joy. Many feared Halloween, or rather, distorted its real meaning. They made it as the day that ghosts apparently came back to have their revenge, the day of gruesome sacrifices, the day when everything seemed to be only about gore, blood, and violence. Few remembered the real myth behind Halloween: the day when lost members of families came back to visit their loved ones, and spend one day with them. One day per year when the veil between our world and the world of the dead thinned, and broken families could be reunited for one small yet heart-warming moment, and remember that none were ever forgotten.

Gabzryel made a point of never forgetting; and most of all, to never discard a myth even seemingly impossible. Especially that he now knew the truth behind the myth.

He opened a small ornate jewellery box by his bedside table, and delicately put the 22th diamond amongst its pairs. He looked up at the stars, and blew a kiss to the emptiness above him.

"I love you, sister."