HALLOWEEN PARTY

By Celeste Plowden
 
 

She giggled and squeezed his arm. ‘What a corny vampire costume you’ve put together, Jake, all cheap teeth and threadbare tux! Why, you’re the ghost of your usual swank self.’

He chuckled and waved as he walked towards the door with Rylie in her pink Barbie dress, complete with a blonde ponytail and black kitten heels.

Having arrived in separate cars, Rylie followed Jake back to his house. The rain had all but stopped, yet the murky sky was still loaded with clouds. The wind had kicked up, singing as it blew over the soggy branches and leaves of the village streets, blowing a refreshing scent of late lavender and dewy autumn leaves into her open car window. She stopped at a light, and Jake moved on ahead of her. The red light cast a long reflection of scarlet on the pavement, appearing like spilled blood in the middle of the watery road. It seemed like forever that she was waiting for it to turn green, looking around at the empty streets, not another car in sight.
A white truck with dark tinted windows came to a slow halt on the other side of the intersection. Its high beams flashed, then went out. She could not see the driver, but the engine revved several times, impatient for the green light, but the vehicle’s headlights remained dark. One by one, several vultures descended on the truck and wrapped their wings over their bodies as if roosting for the night, their long necks tucked down over their breasts, eyes closed. The red gleam shone down on their nearly bald heads like swathes of blood after feasting inside the carcass of some roadkill, as she had seen them do weeks ago when she and Jake had watched them hunched over a dead deer on a nearby county road.

Rylie saw the truck door open, but no one got out, and she heard muted voices coming from the cab. A woman’s voice and then a man’s voice guffawed and said in a deep, news anchorman tone, ‘And goodnight from WKZK Radio.’ Rylie looked to turn down a side street but it was a one-way street, so she sat there staring at the red light and the white truck with its feathered tenants.

The radio voice continued. ‘This tune will take you back. Here’s Sleepwalk by the one and only Ventures.’ A note played on an electric guitar, sweet and clear, drifted from the open door, then another and another, enchanting and soothing. The melody shifted up an octave, the sound wrapping around Rylie’s car as the volume was turned up, lulling her into a reverie of some feeling she had discovered in a dream, perhaps, but she could not place it. The instrumental whisked her senses into a peaceful surrender of the long traffic light, the phantom white truck also waiting for it to change, with its engine humming and the driver’s door open.

She got out of her car and trod over the wet, scarlet mirage in the street, the patter of her shoes clacking on the wet pavement as she walked towards the open door. Rylie peeked in the truck. ‘Who’s there?’ said a man. It was Jake’s voice.

‘Jake, why are you here? Where did you get this truck? I was just driving to your house... I don’t see you, Jake.’ The cab was empty.

‘I know,’ he said, ‘I’ll be solid again soon. Come to bed, Rylie.’ The song Sleepwalk played a second time, and she stood mesmerised under the dark sky and the red glare, spellbound by the haunting guitar music as she stood looking into the cab. A thick, grey vapour shaped itself into the silhouette of a man before spreading and dispersing out the open door.

‘I’ve heard this before,’ she said, ‘but I don’t remember when.’

‘They played it at my burial, on a rainy day. Weren’t you there? Remember the heavy smell of the wet sod as they laid it over my wooden coffin? You know, the one I carved for the funeral home months before the accident ...’ Jake said, his voice trailing away as the light turned green and the door shut. The reposing buzzards swept into the air as he drove away.

Rylie saw the old village tavern in dreams that night, with hordes of vultures under the moonlight while perching on the roof and the side deck of the building. The jukebox flipped on when she opened the front door, and it belted out, She talks to angels. The lilting melody and strong vocals drew her into a different world under the night sky, and a strange tranquillity took hold of her. She could hear her heart beat, and her breath rose and fell slowly with the rhythm of the song. ‘Jake?’ she called, looking around the shadowy barroom.

‘I’m here,’ said his voice, but she did not see him.

‘I can’t see you,’ Rylie said and walked towards the darkened bar. Two goblets floated down from a shelf and placed themselves on the bar-top. A bottle of wine opened and poured itself into the glasses. One glass sailed towards her hand.

‘Cheers,’ Jake said as the other glass lifted and tipped slightly. ‘Now that’s a nice dry rosé,’ he added. ‘Here, let me kiss you, Rylie. Take my hand.’ His unseen fingers reached out and grabbed hers, pulling her towards him. She leaned in and felt his lips meet hers. ‘You’ve got moonbeams in your hair, Babe, look.’

Rylie looked into the large relic of a mirror behind the bar and saw her blond hair streaked with a soft glow. ‘How did that happen? There’s no light in here.’

‘It’s your aura tonight. It’s white. You seem at peace.’

The dimmed room had a different ambiance that she had felt before. The dusky appearance of the inanimate objects inside, the barstools, the few tables, the glassware and liquor bottles glowed with a misty presence that brought her solace. ‘I do feel relaxed,’ she said with a slow smile in the direction of his voice, ‘but when will I see you, Jake?’ She heard the wings of a large bird flap several times against the window frame before taking to the sky.

‘I’ll be solid again soon, Ry…’ His voice drifted off and her eyes opened to the rosy fingers of dawn reaching in to awaken her to the sight of Jake sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling at her.