“I am not letting in any more vampires”, I said to J, as he stood at the threshold, smiling and holding sunflowers.
“Ptt, ptt, ptt”, always spit three times on the devil at the doorway, as the Greeks do, “ptt, ptt, ptt, so the evil-eye won’t get you”. Weeks before I had double-looped the glass charm against the evil eye, on a hook on my front door. No more vampires, I had explained to the curious cats rubbing against my legs, darting out of the porch into the sunshine to hunt flies and crawling things.
Now J stood here smiling and holding sunshine. Leaning forwards, I kissed him from the safety of my doorstep then stepped aside. The glass eye-charm shuddered slightly on its blue cord as I closed the door, and shuddering a little too, I took the flowers and another kiss, and laughed.
How do you know a Vampire now that they walk about in daylight? I never was a kick-ass Buffy, but Spike? I fell for that punk every time.
This weekend, the autumn sun was lower in the sky, and the morning air frosted the cars. J and I went together and bought skeleton lights for around the front door, and an orange pumpkin. He carried it into the house, the biggest pumpkin we could find, and the three of us, frantic taxidermists, gutted it at the kitchen table, scooping out its slimy entrails. My boy drew the biggest lantern-jawed, one-toothed laughing face with tadpole eyes and J and he, carved it back to life, the spirit of All Hallows Eve, as the smell of sausages and sweet slow-cooking onion filled the kitchen.
My greek-eye charm draped around with rubber bats, watching swarms of very short vampires and zombies crowding in at the porch. Skinny arms and grasping hands reaching for the big bowl of sweets. We let them in as far as the porch but only my very own caped pumpkin-headed boy was allowed past the threshold. The ghosts and ghouls all said thank you and moved on, willow the wisps, to the next lighted doorway.
“Mummy, they’re going, Mum..they’re going without us”. Me and my boy. Cross with me for hanging back, wanting to run and catch up with O. his friend from next door. Not knowing the other ghouls in his group. A new crowd. Pulling at his cape, his mask, cross that he nearly tripped over. Cross that he can’t see clearly as the ghastly pumpkin mask slips over his radiant face. Holding my hand tight. Too far behind, missing out a house or two to catch up. Cross at being left behind, outside the laughing crowd. I hold his hand tight and pull him close. “We’ll catch up, sweet,”. I put his cloak right, smooth the tears away, straighten his mask. “Go, on – O’s there,” and he is gone, running up the path. My hand falling to my side, colder. Soon as loud and fast as the rest of them. Our first trick-or-treating on our road. Claiming the neighbourhood, and his new friendships, with shrieks and chatter and too much sugar. Children playing with death. Excited. So alive.
e.antoniou 2018