Cold Chills

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Janie Adams was never meant to be home. It was Halloween night, and she'd been invited to at least five different parties to celebrate the holiday all across New York City, ranging from a full out costumed ball to a few low key get-togethers and cheesy slasher flick marathons (with pizza).

She was not about to hop from party to party all night, but had intended to show her face at at least several of her friends place's, eat some of their shitty Halloween candy and comment on how amazing everyone's costumes looked (even if they didn't). Truth be told, Halloween wasn't her favorite holiday and she - unlike very many other girls - did in fact not see it as an excuse to wear a skimpy cheer leading costume or a skintight catsuit outside. She didn't even bother with a costume at all. 

But a nasty case of the flu left Janie bed bound, stuck inside her apartment with the heater turned up all the way and blankets covering her entire aching body. A tiny vaporizer stood beside her bed, conjuring up small bursts of steam that would hopefully aid in clearing her pulsating sinuses, while a steaming hot cup of lavender tea with two tablespoons of honey stood on her nightstand.

The only Halloween movie Janie could stand to watch all the way through without cringing - Hocus Pocus - was playing in the background, but the dull throbbing at the base of her skull and constant aches in her joints was all she could seem to focus on.

Trick or treaters had flooded the city all day. Kids of varying ages dressed up like vampires, Disney princesses and superheroes, babies forced into bee costumes by their enthusiastic parents carrying lanterns, pumpkin shaped jars on sticks and canvas totes filled with sugary sweets. So far, her bell had only rung once, but Janie hadn't bothered to get up to tell whoever was at the door she didn't have any candy and that the thought of it alone made her feel sick to her stomach.

She'd thought about taking down the only visible piece of Halloween decoration she'd put out this year so people wouldn't think to try her house, but even she couldn't deny the unmistakable cuteness of the large, happily smiling pumpkin that stood in Janie's windowsill. It had taken her almost a day to carve the damn thing and she hadn't scoured the dollar store in search of fake candles for nothing, so she decided to keep it up until at least midnight.

As the evening slowly dragged on and the sun finally disappeared behind the city's skyline, the streets below became quiet again. Most kids had gone home to examine this year's loot of chocolate bars, lollipops, pop rocks, pennies, whistles and chewing gum. Janie didn't exactly live in the best part of town, so the streets cleared up even earlier where she lived and for the first time since moving in, she actually felt glad to live there in this shithole of a neighbourhood.

Wind blew violently through the street, shaking Janie's windows and rattling the locks and hinges. She groaned as she sat up to take a sip of tea, squinting her eyes slightly to prevent too much light from coming in. With dilated pupils, she looked around the room. Everything felt so different when being sick, didn't it? So unreal, like being stuck in some sort of plastic bubble in which you're alone with all of your unending misery and pain. 

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