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flashfic
Lots of people wrote fics for Halloween, but something ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xiphias said sparked this for me instead.
Familiar Spirit
She woke up on Thursday morning and breathed a sigh of relief. Hallowe'en was over for another year. It was horrible to be glad it was over; she'd always gloried in the thought of the thinning of the veils between the worlds, and hated the safe commercial parody of itself that the holiday had become. She still gave candy out to the kids, partly because she never could resist moppets in costume and partly because it was easier to get along with the neighbors if you behaved as they expected. What the neighbors never knew was that later on, when the trick-or-treaters had all gone to bed, she always set a bowl of bread and milk on the back step for - well, whoever might want them. The bowl was always empty in the morning, though neighborhood cats probably had more to do with that than Anyone Else.
This year, though, she didn't like to think of what might pass through when the worlds touched. Fanciful though it was, she'd had a premonition she couldn't shake, ever since hearing of Corvan's death. He'd never been a pagan - as far as she could tell, he'd never believed in much, though he'd been raised as a Catholic. He'd believed in annoying her though; since they'd broken up all those years ago, no effort had been too much if the end result would rile her. He'd never caused real damage unless to her blood pressure, she could never relax without worrying when he might turn up next. If it were possible to come back from the grave merely to pester her, he'd be the man to do it.
But Hallowe'en was over. She kept a sense of relief as she went about her day, chiding herself for idiot fancies. Of course he hadn't shown up. Lovers, friends, sisters, saints: all had made promises to return after death if it were permitted to humans, and none had ever done so in a convincing way. Why should be be the first? By bedtime, she'd forgotten her fears; she brushed her teeth, put on her nightgown and went to bed blithely planning for the next day.
It was, therefore, an extremely unpleasant surprise to wake up and see him sitting at the foot of her bed, somewhat less than solid but unmistakeably his unbeloved self. He grinned his old coyote smile (she could see the bedroom door through his teeth) and said, "Well, I wasn't likely to come around on All Hallows' Eve. I was never exactly a saint, was I? Today, my dear, is All Souls' Day."
xiphias said sparked this for me instead. Familiar Spirit
She woke up on Thursday morning and breathed a sigh of relief. Hallowe'en was over for another year. It was horrible to be glad it was over; she'd always gloried in the thought of the thinning of the veils between the worlds, and hated the safe commercial parody of itself that the holiday had become. She still gave candy out to the kids, partly because she never could resist moppets in costume and partly because it was easier to get along with the neighbors if you behaved as they expected. What the neighbors never knew was that later on, when the trick-or-treaters had all gone to bed, she always set a bowl of bread and milk on the back step for - well, whoever might want them. The bowl was always empty in the morning, though neighborhood cats probably had more to do with that than Anyone Else.
This year, though, she didn't like to think of what might pass through when the worlds touched. Fanciful though it was, she'd had a premonition she couldn't shake, ever since hearing of Corvan's death. He'd never been a pagan - as far as she could tell, he'd never believed in much, though he'd been raised as a Catholic. He'd believed in annoying her though; since they'd broken up all those years ago, no effort had been too much if the end result would rile her. He'd never caused real damage unless to her blood pressure, she could never relax without worrying when he might turn up next. If it were possible to come back from the grave merely to pester her, he'd be the man to do it.
But Hallowe'en was over. She kept a sense of relief as she went about her day, chiding herself for idiot fancies. Of course he hadn't shown up. Lovers, friends, sisters, saints: all had made promises to return after death if it were permitted to humans, and none had ever done so in a convincing way. Why should be be the first? By bedtime, she'd forgotten her fears; she brushed her teeth, put on her nightgown and went to bed blithely planning for the next day.
It was, therefore, an extremely unpleasant surprise to wake up and see him sitting at the foot of her bed, somewhat less than solid but unmistakeably his unbeloved self. He grinned his old coyote smile (she could see the bedroom door through his teeth) and said, "Well, I wasn't likely to come around on All Hallows' Eve. I was never exactly a saint, was I? Today, my dear, is All Souls' Day."