Peter (The Devil On My Shoulder)

Walking Dead and Fairies

Halloween is all about being someone or something other than yourself. People will spend the whole day putting on makeup and costumes so that they can be virtually unrecognizable.

When I was younger, my dad would take us out trick or treating all night long. My brother always wore some kind of monster costume, from Frankenstein to the Abominable Snowman, while I stuck to ghosts and fairies and yes, the inevitable princesses.

Mom made dad pick a costume too. And you know what he was?

Sherlock Holmes.

Every. Single. Year.

Of course, dad being the man that he was, also never failed to have reasoning behind all his actions. So when lil ole me, in my tiny Tinkerbell costume, said to him one year, "Daddy, why won't you be Captain Hook just this once?", he looked to me and said, "Because even in pretend, the only thing I've ever wanted to be was a great detective."

I hated when he said that.

So did my mom. I can practically see her rolling her eyes even now just from thinking about that night.

There's probably some great lesson that he wanted to teach me in all of that, but the only thing I ended up doing was despising Halloween.

So having to volunteer as a zombie on the trail of horror really wasn't my idea of a fun night. I'd rather be at home, bothering Peter --- or having him bother me. Speaking of Peter, I haven't seen the little prick for two whole days. After the field trip, I slept over Claire's house, and then the next day I spent the entire time getting ready for tonight. There were plenty of opportunities to make fun of me, to crack a joke, to do something 'sinister', and yet Peter just didn't show up. If I had to be honest, without letting him know of course, I was getting kind of worried. He never leaves me alone for more than an hour, even while I'm trying to sleep.

The shrill screams from a small group of kids snapped me out of my thoughts.

Like I said before, I hated Halloween. But I did have to admit that scaring these little assholes was sort of fun.

Half way through the night, little kids started sneaking onto the 'grownup' trail, and were so terrified of us that I'm pretty sure some of them actually wet their pants.

Seriously, Sean and I, in all our zombie glory, chased the little guys down the entire trail as they cried, screamed, and fell multiple times.

There's a reason this trail was for 13 years and older. Not to brag, but our special effects makeup was so realistic that sometimes I'd catch my own reflection and jump.

Thankfully though, the night was almost over, and Sean and I had a break that was long overdue.

"I get that we're scary, but we're not that scary." Sean laughed, referring to the kid who was sobbing hysterically as his mom tried to calm him down and get him away from us. He's been out of the trail for half an hour now, by the way. Oh, and we had removed all of our face makeup, so we weren't even full zombies now.

Sean and I ate candy as we sat on a bench away from the trails, towards the other 'entertainment' they had set up. They had face paint, pumpkin carving stations, mummy wrapping games, Graveyard tours, and down towards the parking lot they even had a projector set up with Halloween movies playing one after another.

"They're like 8 years old -- they probably think Hocus Pocus is scary too." I said, chewing on a twizzler.

"Probably." He laughed in agreement.

I stared off into the distance again, my thoughts consuming me, until the rumbling in my stomach made it's presence very well known.

Sean looked at me from the corner of his eyes, "Didn't get enough brains tonight?"