Halloween
By me
I used to have a brother. Aye, I did. A big, a huge big brother who was so tall I believed he could touch the stars with his fingertips; or so I thought as a little girl.
Memories of these times that I keep in a corner of my mind are fuzzy. He would always talk in verses, a pure and such a beautiful poet. He loved Autumn; so cold, so tedious, yet so adorable to him, he was simply charmed by this season, its colours, smells, tastes.
His lover killed him. He would always catch the flu during the last two weeks of October, a dreadful flu that came every year, making his white skin ever whiter, his gorgeous blond hair ever thinner. His lungs were weak, sometimes he would spit blood. Every year, a terrible fright clasped my heart as I wondered if he would die or survive. So I would beg Autumn not to be so cold and so windy, but Autumn did not listen to me. The wind would blow fiercer; nights would be colder and longer, and on October’s last day, a few years ago, my dearest and only brother, my blue-eyed angel on earth, left me alone. A sickening pain grips my heart and my body shivers when I think of him smiling at me calmly, and dying with this last earthly look, this last stretching of his soft lips, that last gift he gave to me, to me only, the only being he cared about.
Death leaves you alone. I hate Autumn because this bloody season took my perfect brother, loving and lovely being that shared my blood. Aye, Autumn holds a scythe, and it’s not just meant to reap crops and flowers. This horrid, cold season ripped us apart forever.
Autumn, ye be damned!
Now I live in a huge town, stressed and thoughtless, with massive buildings, where dead people are not to be talked about, for they are not there anymore. I miss my brother all the time. He left me alone, without any other family or relatives. Alone, alone, alone. That’s all I am. I study biochemistry nowadays, get the best marks, pass every exam brilliantly, and I have a nice amount of money.
Sometimes I hang around at night. That one was Halloween’s night. Aye, per hazard it was. The thirteenth anniversary of my brother’s death. A pain that I got used to.
It was the most beautiful starry night I had ever seen. So many stars were there, the moon was shining bright; in the dead of an autumn night, children were playing games and trick-or-treat, trying to scare each other. They looked so carefree and happy in their witch, mummy or zombie disguises. They didn’t know that they were celebrating the Grim Reaper’s night… Autumn’s night.
Of course they wouldn’t know, of course they would stay oblivious to that side of life for as long as their parents could manage it. It was obvious though, that it left you alone, empty, cold, with good memories that made you cry, moan, mourn, and sometimes scream with the ache of loss, and need, and crave for the beloved departed’s presence beside you.
I wore a black velvet dress that night, sleeveless, that left my shoulders bare, and gloves that reached my forearms. I didn’t feel the cold; only death gives me chills. I have my brother’s features, except for my dark and slightly curly hair, which reaches down by back; there are always reddish reflections in this black mane of mine. My brother adored it, and caressed it often.
As I approached the dock and went near the empty beach where no one went after September, I felt that someone was following me. Then, when I heard a poem recited, my heart stopped for a second, only to start beating at a mad speed, wildly, so hard that I could feel it at the edge of bursting.
“Do you remember me, little dove?
How beautiful, how suspicious
Turn around and be curious
Look at me my little love
Then see the stars above
Always for you they shone
So the moon sitting on her throne
Thou wonder’st what drove
Thy soul here; or
Is it Autumn that you came for?”
I was stunned and frightened, starting to realize that it was my brother’s voice. I turned around and saw a manly shape dressed like the Grim Reaper. I let my anger out.
“You hellish son of a dirty bitch! How dare you, how dare you imitate my beloved Amadeo! Isn’t it enough that he left me alone with memories without you damn clown making fun of him?”
I first thought of slapping him, but he seemed to be strong enough to hurt me if I went on. So I just carried on with walking, a bit faster that before, on the dry sand.
I didn’t hear him following me; I could just listen to him speaking, as his voice was so astonishingly as sweet as Amadeo’s.
“look, little one, look
Thou hatest Autumn because
It shows how life comes and goes
And for it simply took
Thy brother away? Thou shalt not
It’s written in life’s plot
My beauty, go, live on
I haven’t reached so far beyond
many spaces, many skies
just to see thy heavenly eyes
dwell on the loss and pain
please, Mayflower, don’t cry in vain.”
Warm hands on my shoulders. Soft, tiny fingers that ran through my hair and a voice, his voice, that calls me by the nickname he gave me.
“please, please darling, please
Dear faerie, be at ease
Remember when thou sayeth
I should be the one thou lovest
And I sayeth I loveth thee too,
And thou sayeth “no, not thou
Autumn hath got love of thine
And thou won’t stay mine,” he murmured in my ear.
“I cannot stand this any longer. You are not Amadeo, he’s dead and buried, despite your tries to stupidly imitate him. Get off me, leave me alone; take your necrophilia elsewhere… but… gosh you smell like poppy fumes!” I exclaimed as I pushed him away to face him. Under his cloak, I saw no human look in the empty eyeballs of the fake skull. It was a fake one, right?
“poppies… and mayflowers.
Little sister, so fairly named,
My dearest Gabrielle, thy shivers
Aren’t to be blamed
My embrace should show thee
That thou dost remember me.”
He enclosed me in his arms and put his head against mine.
In the gloom of the gaunt moon, a bunch of shiny blond hair fell from the hood in front of my eyes.
He let me go after a minute, maybe more.
“I bid thee good night
The moon shines less bright
And dawn shall come soon
Thy guides shall be called stars and moons
Go home, little sister, stay my
Angel; goodbye, goodbye.”
My heart pounded furiously in my breast as I screamed, out of myself and far away from any grief: “Amadeo, brother! Don’t leave me again, please!”
I begged this stranger not to go, wailing ,weeping like a child on the sand, near the ocean that sent back blue lights from the city nearby, from a life I was not part of.
He was already gone.
So I went home on foot, back toward my crappy old studio. It started raining; cold water from the skies mixed with my tears as I mourned with heartache.
Here he stood, under a street lamp. He was completely dry, as if water could not reach him. I was soaking wet and every part of my body felt like ice. “So this is farewell” I said. “I will never see you again, will I?”
“see me not, if thou askest
But forever with thee I stay
Even through what’s hardest
Always with thee by day
And night
As the moon shines bright.
And every falling leaf you see
Brings you love and a kiss from me.”
He leant forward to close his mouth on mine. No more skulls, this was his fair skin, his sweet taste of berries from the forest where we used to wander.
“I shall walk near thee
Goodbye darling, I love thee.”
He disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared – slipped back in the shadows.
For the first time in thirteen years I smiled.
From this night on, I smile, for I will never be alone again. I feel him, smell him, hear his verses everywhere I go, whatever I do. He taught me to have friends, to be happy, to like life and live on.
The dead choose moments to talk and help…
Oh my Amadeo, how I love you.
