Happy Halloween

Bwog writer Gabbie lives the life of a grandma on 113th. She has never been to a Senior Night and doesn’t plan to go to one soon, after hearing what she does every Wednesday night from her apartment window.

There is a sudden shriek, interrupting my nightly pre-bed cup of herbal tea and episode of Fargo. I’m sitting on my couch in my living room, just chilling and preparing for bed, having just set my loaf of bread to rise overnight so I can have a nice breakfast after my early morning class tomorrow.

I look out my window to identify the shriek. Is someone getting murdered? That’s what it sounded like. It is Halloween after all. There is a faint siren blaring in the background. Maybe someone did get murdered. All I see, faintly in the dark on 113th street, is a group of frat brothers smoking outside their front door. Soon, they escort a small group of ladies out of the house, and begin walking towards Amsterdam. Perplexing. Everything sets off faint alarm bells in my head, as I imagine the worst. Maybe the shriek was from my episode of Fargo? I think not, but I shake my head and continue.

I return to the shriek later. Who was this ghoul? It’s Halloween and I am scared. It had been early when I heard the shriek… what was wrong with this person? WHO GETS THAT LIT AT 10 PM ON A WEDNESDAY. Before long, I’m set up near my window, Alfred Hitchcock-styles, investigating everything that’s happening outside. I hear murmured conversations… was that my name I heard? Why are they talking about me? Are they coming to get me? Is there a doomsday Halloween cult on Columbia’s campus?

The night grows older and I grow weary. I decide to put away my flashlight and unfold my pull-out couch to go to bed. I am still afraid; the lights from outside are casting weird shadows on my wall…

IT’S DEFINITELY A HALLOWEEN DOOMSDAY CULT. Just over the noise of the cars on Broadway, I hear laughing. Only it’s not really laughing, it’s cackling, and I am the joke. More shrieks, they are eliminating the obstacles in their way.

The cackling seems to follow me, floating up from my window. I am awake, staring at the ceiling. The ghouls… they are coming for me.

candy corn ghost via Bwog Archives