Trick or treat

When I was young, my little brother’s favorite day of the year was Halloween. He’d love to put on the most bizarre costumes, nothing too popular, obscure but with just enough exposure to not be completely unknown. Cult movies, little known commercials, characters of old books or of cancelled sitcoms, and especially b horror movies, any one was an inspiration. Though I enjoyed scary and horror movies, the idea of wearing costumes never truly appealed to me. But I always went trick or treating with him.

Our neighborhood was quiet, we had moved there just 5 years before. It was always a quiet place to live, we would play soccer on the street or just play hide and seek until it was time to eat dinner.

I remembered it being only six and a quarter, but we were already desperate to get going. Especially me, since I would meet my friends later for some real fun. We, back then at least, usually stuck to other groups; mom would always bug us on this because of safety. I didn’t understand it then, don't know if I do. Once we turned the corner I could see my friends on their bikes, waiting for me on the other side of the street. I thought of leaving to go with them, but I didn’t, maybe I should have.

I walked with no purpose, I'd lost him and I had no idea what to do. The streets still alive with light as I spiraled, drowning in thin patches of darkness. The sidewalks crumbled and gave away to the roots of old Guayacan, and I could see the trash pilling up in other corners, as my mind wandered aimlessly desperately trying to think, to elaborate a plan on what to do, to make any kind of sense. The smell of dog shit and trash makes me sick to this day and my mind can’t understand it yet. I couldn’t understand why this had to happen every year, with no goodbyes and I would be alone again.