“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.”

There was happiness everywhere. In the celebratory clinking of glasses. In the excited painted faces of the children as they acted the parts of the superheroes they were costumed as. In the awed expressions of the onlookers as the magician Coey hired displayed some flabbergasting trick or another.

Corey looked on it all and a radiant fullness consumed him. He smiled, and in so doing the viciousness and connivance of his day job tried to become a distant memory. He was home. This was his family. Extended though it may be.

The Halloween party was actually Christian’s idea, and Corey was dismayed to find that he was an even bigger fan of All Hollow’s Eve than Corey himself. Christian’s dedication to the preplanning and design work was something to behold. Even if Corey had his misgivings. Christian had insisted on a Masque of the Red Death theme, complete with the symbolic many hued rooms present in the story. Corey recalled their initial conversation about the theme. ”Uh, baby, didn’t they all die at the end of a horrific disease that made them bleed out their asses or something?” Turned out it wasn’t just their asses, they bled out from every pore. SUPER.

But Corey relented and let Christian have his macabre motif. He could see Christian now from his vantage point at the top of the main staircase, speaking animatedly with two recent additions to the campus. He looked positively resplendent in his Count Chocula costume, a counterpart to Corey's Captain Crunch. The deal was that if Christian picked the drapes then Corey got to pick the evening wear. Christian hadn’t minded as much as Corey had hoped.

Well, good evening Mr. Smith.

Corey turned about to see Dolly approaching gingerly on her crutches. He doffed his foam pirate hat at her in reply. Good evening Miss Waters. They shared a smile. How are you feeling?

Still like refried shit in a bag.

Colorful!

Ain’t it? She readjusted herself on her crutches after noting she was starting to trample her Wonder Woman cape. You couldn’t have spared some of that healing Jamba Juice for me?

Corey’s smile wavered a bit as harsh memories invaded the present. I wish I could have.

Ehhh I think you just didn’t want the competition. Dolly leaned in and gave him a light shoulder check. Actually, I was wanting to talk to you about Thad.

I don’t really want to talk about work. He replied too quickly.

Dolly, a tad slighted perhaps, gave a little shrug. Well, alright….

I’m sorry, it’s just….Corey took a moment to find the words….this feels good. Here. Now.

I hear you. She responded with some solemnity.

A further silence passed between them before Corey broke it. Does it make me a total sap that I still kinda wish Thad was here?

Dolly let it pass that he had already given up his pretense of not talking about work. I don’t think that makes you a sap at all, ‘Cor. I think it just means you have a heart. And that it’s still hurting.

Yeah, I suppose so…. He considered the jubilant throngs below him again.

What I wanted to say was that I know you’ve been thinking about Thad a lot. You don’t want us to know that but I can read you cover to cover, Corey Smith. And I wanted to tell you to try to put that on the shelf tonight.

Corey winced. I’m sorry. They had been on the same page after all. He shouldn’t have been too surprised.

Dolly nodded towards the revelry. Just go have fun.

Yeah. Corey nodded. Then, with a cheeky smile. You need me to carry you down the stairs?

If you try to, I'll break a crutch off in your ass. Corey chuckled, and Dolly smiled back at him. I’ll take the elevator. Then, with another prodding nod, Corey got the picture and he turned to venture down the stairs into the waiting embrace of the near strangers he called family.

But this was All Hallows Eve. The one night where the strange and unusual spearheaded into the calm waters of normalcy, forming a jagged peninsula of that which should not be. A shiver trickled down Corey’s spine as he descended the stairs, senses honed in the fires of Lux’s battles blossoming. Something was amiss.

And then, at the far end of the room, stood a solitary figure that seemed to be the only one not engaged in conversation. He was staring right at Corey.



Corey stopped, lips parted in a showing of subtle surprise. The sheer otherness of this costume was not lost on him. Devoid of the chintz, and shtick and good natured cheer of the other costumes, this one was authoritatively different. And it should have commanded the room. But Corey seemed to be the only one to notice.

Skipping faster down the stairs, he politely excused himself past some of the revelers as he made his way towards Christian. Then, tugging on the sleeve of his costume to get his attention, Christian did an about face.

Nobody’s getting me Lucky Charms! Christian attempted boisterously.

No, you’re still doing it wrong. A gentle chide. Hon, nice idea with the spooky Red Death guy tonight.

Sorry babes, I’m not following.

Seriously? He quirked an eyebrow. The creepy skull faced guy in the red robes? You’re the one that picked out the Poe story.

Wait, where is that guy? I wanna check that out!

Corey rolled his eyes. Okay! Fine! Have your fun.

Oh, I am! Hope you catch the weirdo! Christian returned his attention to the subjects of his previous conversation.

Corey lifted himself up on his tiptoes to try and make out the mysterious stranger. He caught sight of a wisp of his robe just as he disappeared past the threshold into….

….the Blue Room.

BONG

BONG

BONG

BONG

BONG

BONG



What was that? There was no grandfather clock here anymore, not since he purged the creepy old fucker Madison had in the library. Not since….

Oh… A statement of understated surprise passed his lips as he entered the room. At first, he was floored by Christian’s handiwork. Expensive blue fabrics adorning the walls and ceiling. Fine furniture and glassware, all in hues of blue as well. Even the attendees all had costumes in varying shades of blue. But, with a sickening sensation moldering in his gut, Corey realized that this couldn’t possibly be his home. The dimensions of the room were all wrong. The ceilings (complete with bluish chandeliers) were too high. The partygoers' costumes too elaborate, too fanciful. Ballroom gowns with chalk white masks, a man in the corner wearing a birdlike costume with blue downy feathers. Corey’s pulse quickened as he searched for something familiar to hold onto, but he was found wanting. And that’s when he spotted the anomaly in the center of the room. The anomaly no one had even seemed to stop and consider. An old projection television on a stand stood alone. A grainy image, as though shot on more primitive technology, played out on the screen. Corey, mesmerized, drew closer to it.

On it, a newborn was being placed in his mother’s arms. Voices from just outside the shot cooed reverently.

Oh, he’s beautiful.

Perfect angel.

Ten fingers. Ten toes. All good!

Corey brought his face up to within inches of the screen, a lump dwelling in his throat as recognition washed over him. Mom…. he croaked. The camera turned around, revealing yet another familiar face. Dad. Corey reached up and gently stroked the image with his finger tips.

Not all haunts are ghosts.

Corey gasped. The Red Death was standing just behind the television, Corey hadn’t even seen him approach.

You can never go home.

It was true. He was a boy out of time. They would never understand.

Who are you?

But the Red Death didn’t answer. Instead, he backed up into the crowd as it closed around him, like parting seas being sewn back together in the middle.

No! Corey barked out. Passing around the television, Corey ventured into the throng, only to be met by passive resistance. Excuse me! He barked, but no one moved. Then, steeling himself, he plunged into the group proper, jostling shoulders and fighting against the glut of humanity. But still no one took heed of his presence. Corey made a frustrated little sound in the back of his throat as he could just barely make out the crimson pompadour of the Red Death’s mask pulling away. When Corey finally broke free at the other end of the crowd, he was gone. Corey plunged headlong into the next room, which was similarly adorned but in flush shades of violet. Where are you? He commanded.

But a different voice answered.

….Corey?

BONG

Corey spun around.

BONG

No….

BONG

It’s not possible….

BONG

BONG….

The final chime of the clock echoed as a dramatic counterpoint to the standoff now transpiring. Corey stared at the impossible thing before him.

[/color]

The being persisted in spite of Corey’s wishes to the contrary. A trickle of anger flourished inside of him. You’re gone. You’re supposed to be gone!

I am. Iggy’s thin lips turned upwards into a warm smile. But it’s All Hallow’s Eve, Corey. The one night where the dead are untethered from the confines of the afterlife. Although… he scratched his chin curiously. I’m not sure I had an afterlife.

I’m well now….I’m well…. Corey stammered, as though trying to convince himself above all.

Oh, don’t worry. You ARE well. Iggy threw his hands out in a placating gesture. Honest to goodness! I’m not BACK back.

Then what are you?

I just told you. A ghost. But not a spooky one. Iggy’s face was replete with the childish innocence that was his hallmark when Corey first encountered him.

Corey cast his gaze about, waiting for the shock of pain of the stroke that was no doubt incoming. I’m falling apart again…..

Please don’t be sad, Corey. I’m just here to deliver a message. Iggy drew a bit closer, and Corey took a step back. Sensing Corey’s reluctance, Iggy stayed put. Look Corey, I know you still have mixed feelings about what happened with me. I know you still feel a little bad about it.

Corey didn’t reply, but knew he was right.

I’m telling you to try not to feel bad. I was the one who screwed up, Corey. I tried to make you happy, but instead I just made you different. I took away all the learning and growth you had gained and made you like me. Stunted.

I’ve never heard you talk this way before.

Because I’ve never been this mature before. You taught me a lot Corey. Even if it came at the cost of my life. I don’t blame you for what you did. For what you HAD to do.

He turned Iggy’s words over in his head, sifting for the right way to respond. I’m so sorry it went down the way it did.

Me too. I wish we could have been better friends. Iggy pointed behind Corey. But I think you’re being summoned elsewhere.

Corey looked behind him, and saw that the other guests (again in colors in step with the room) were pointing to the door on the far side of the room. In all, the effect was eerie, and Corey couldn’t help but shudder under their combined silent masked gazes.

Iggy, I…. Corey turned back around and saw that Iggy was gone. He sighed, and started the long walk to the next room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First off, guys, what happened to letting ME pick the stipulation? I did a good job in my last match, right? That was one helluva main event! I mean, despite the ending being as obvious as Charlie Nickles being caught with a scabrous whore.

A glass cage match? I can think of at least two other times this stip has been used. Somebody back there has a hard on for this unusually specific match condition! Is it you, Bob? What’s your obsession with glass cages?!

I promise you, I would have picked some fun Halloween thing! We would have been able to snub our noses at both Savage and bWo as being the premier holiday show. But ya hosed it up, Bob! YA HOSED IT UP!

So now I got to toss poor Elijah Martin through plate glass times four. Which leads me to my next point. Hi, Elijah. Corey Smith here. Don’t blame me for the match stipulation. I might be the one physically chucking you through all that glass, but ultimately it ain’t my fault your girl’s gonna be picking shards out of your ass for the next two weeks.

Elijah, you were supposed to be Marf. But then Marf done cocked it up and won his own championship and here you are, sliding into the gap. I understand you requested this match. And like I’ve said in the past, I appreciate that kind of moxie. So what do we know about you Elijah? Well, we know that you really want US to know that you’re FROM THE BRONX!!!! Ooof, tough guy, eh?

Actually, let me walk that back. We’re not doing the snark thing just yet. Because I just finished watching your promo for Anarchy and, well, surprisingly I found myself having to unpack some of my own shit after seeing it. I understand your addiction story. And I’m genuinely sorry your friend ended his own life before he could see the end of HIS story. I’m an addict too, Elijah. Present tense, because as you know we never truly stop being addicts. The sickness is always there, lurking about on the periphery. So we stay ever vigilant. I know what that’s like. And whether we end up on the other side of this as friends or foes, we will always have that common bond.

I also found out that you’re a 20 year veteran of the sport. Compared to you, I’m a wet behind the ears rookie. Whoooo just happens to be on his fourth championship run already, but I di-gilly-gress! You have the experience edge. Maybe. But my skills were honed by the world’s foremost assassin and time traveler. No, really. You got some time to kill? My backstory is a BLAST! Heh. But the point is this. Yes, I’m young. Yes, I’m small. Yes, I’m adorable. But you underestimate me at your peril. I know that sounds cliche as fuck, but yeah, Google me, bro. I’ve seen and done some shit.

I also know you’ve already made something of a name for yourself on Anarchy. Pretty cool, I guess. But everybody knows the big boys and girls play on Warfare and Savage. Don’t believe me? Take a look at any championship that doesn’t have “Anarchy” in the title. You won’t see any names signed exclusively to the Anarchy brand with any of those belts. It’s a good way to get your feet wet here in the XWF, but that’s about it. The good news is that yeah, there have been people who started out on Anarchy and catapulted themselves to the top. Sarah Lacklan is one. But you sir are no Sarah Lacklan. Mostly because you don’t have a vagina, actually have a skin tone, and don’t speak UNCOMPROMISINGLY SHRILL as your lingua franca.

Hey, ‘Sar. I know you miss me. *Makes kissy noises*

An-y-ways, back to you Elijah. One bone I do have to pick with you is that your girl is from OCW. Now, not that everyone should be held accountable for the poor taste of their partners (I still cannot convince Christian to stop watching The Masked Singer), I must wonder where YOUR loyalties lie. OCW has been something of a hot topic around these parts. Mostly because they’re, uh, talentless douchebags who can only get one over on our best and brightest by attacking them from behind. So who do you work for Elijah? Honestly. Because I have a big, big issue with gormless hacks (borrowing this, Jim!) trying to get themselves over on our time. Choose your answer carefully my friend.

Now, to take a hard LEFT turn to talk to my good friend Alias. I caught your recent promo. Still awesome. But I wanted to clarify some things. When I cashed in my briefcase on Thad, my intent was not to deceive you. *Pause* It was to SWERVE you!

Kidding, kidding! Although you have to admit that IS one of the funnest parts of our job. But no, no deception intended. As for my now injury free status being due to shenanigans… *Sharp expelling of air* …that certainly is a term that can be used to describe it. An explanation is forthcoming, I promise. But my intentions for you are the same as they ever were. Call it a social experiment. Call it curiosity. Call it whatever you wish. But I desperately want to see if you can become the greatest and longest tenured Universal Champion of all time. I realize things like that probably don’t mean much to you. Que sera sera. But it means something to me. Because I saw something in you from the moment we shared the same ring in that battle royale that SOMEBODY won all those months ago. We don’t agree on everything. But there is a reason I picked you to be on my War Games team. And there is a reason that I ambushed Thad and NOT you at Relentless. It’s because I respect you. And, if we’re being real here, I want the chance to beat one of the greatest goddamn talents the XWF has ever had clean right when he’s at the apex of his influence. Selfish? Yes. But I know you’re not upset about it. I know you get it.

Much platonic love to ya, friendo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONG

BONG

BONG

BONG

Corey stepped into the Green Room, and was immediately repulsed. Somehow, in defiance of basic structural design, this room was much smaller than the last. And gone were the elaborate settings or even the other party guests. This room was a sickly green color, almost pulsing with a sense of putrescence. And in the center of the room was a claw foot bath tub, marred with cracks and other imperfections. Corey, full of dread, placed one foot before the other as he neared the tub. His intention was not even to look, to just pass right by whatever it contained. And he was almost successful, until the person in the tub called out to him.

Help…

The voice was reedy and soft. Corey clamped his eyes shut, swallowing hard. And then, he looked.

It was himself in the tub. Or, rather, what he used to be. Stripped to the waist, pallid, emaciated, and with angry violet track marks racing up and down his arms.

Help me…. The monstrous visage pleaded again, and this time a black foul blood passed between his lips. He began to choke. Corey, rooted in place in horror, choked out a frightened sob. And then, he ran.