The Victorian is ablaze with light when I pull up in my truck. Other vehicles crowd both sides of the street, so I have to park two blocks down and dodge raindrops on my way to the house. Someone on the porch is handing out candy to children and flyers to the adults. Someone calls my name, but when I turn around, I can’t see who it might be.
I stand in the rain for a heartbeat, considering whether I really did hear my name or not. Too many children squeal and cry out, too many adults scold. I can barely hear my thoughts. Pink cotton candy dresses and sparkly tiaras compete with black capes and white fluttering sheets. My heart stops at this last.
A child’s idea of a ghost.
Oh, there are so many tonight. All children, I tell myself. Just costumes, from the store. No bed sheets. No bridal
