He needs her to think he’s cool.
“Beware the Witch of Salem Wood. The old hag made from stick and vine,” he croaks, trying not to laugh. “She’ll steal your soul, drink your blood. But of her sins they’ll find no sign…”
The three girls titter nervously. Two of the boys in the group inch closer to each other. The woods are very dark. The boughs creak in the wind, an eerie sound all around them.
“If you hear her creeping near — moaning, groaning, in the trees,” the boy recites from memory. “Keep still and quiet through your fear, or her next victim you will be.”
A girl on the other side of their circle drops her flashlight. They all let out sharp screams as it clatters into the leafy undergrowth. Their alarm is quickly covered with embarrassed coughs and chuckles.
The tale is reaching its end. The boy infuses his voice with as much rasp as he’s able for the grand finale. “For if you make a single sound, your very voice is hers to keep… Until you’re buried in the ground, another word you’ll never speak…”
The boy trails off. The clearing falls totally silent. Until a sharp crack echoes from the tree line — like a boot, snapping a twig in two. They all go still, collectively terrified.
Is someone out there?
Has the witch come to steal their souls?
No, look — it’s just a rabbit, hopping through the brush.
The moment passes and soon, they’re all laughing again.
It’s fun to be scared.
That’s what this night is all about. That, and the candy of course. The boy searches for the best, biggest king-sized bar in the bottom of his bucket. When he finds it, he plucks up his courage and carries it across the clearing to the girl in the pink wig.
She smiles when she sees him coming.
It’s the best Halloween he’s ever had.
I jolted out of Declan’s head and back into my own with the same whirlwind velocity as always. He was still seated across from me, but his expression had shifted from one of devastation to one of confusion. No doubt because my hand had gone limp in his and I’d essentially slumped over onto the table like a rag doll.
“Are you okay, Imogen?”
“Of course,” I lied.
With a deep breath, I straightened, pulled back my hand, and attempted a smile. It was shaky and, from the concern on Declan’s face, did little to assuage his worry. The fog of the vision was still thick in my head, clouding every thought, but I pushed my way through it.
I had to focus.
“Can I ask you something?”
He hesitated, then gave a shallow nod.
“On Halloween…”
His whole frame tensed.
“Declan, honey, you won’t get into any trouble. I just want to know where you went that night. With your friends, in the woods.”
His eyes widened to huge orbs. “How do you know about that?”
“It doesn’t matter, bub. I just do.”
“But— but—” He spluttered, looking close to tears again. “Rory wasn’t with us. I left him behind, that’s why he’s lost. I left him. I didn’t want him tagging along. I said a bunch of mean things…” Horror flashed through his features. “You aren’t going to tell Mom, are you? She’ll never forgive me if she knows it’s my fault. She’ll hate me. Like she hates Dad.”
There it was: the source of his fear. The reason he’d kept silent, these past few days. He was terrified he’d lose his mother’s love. Terrified he’d never be forgiven. The realization made my throat lump. I spoke through it, trying to keep my emotions in check.
“Like I told you before, Declan, this isn’t your fault.”