c. 2007, Grey K.
The night started as many others had for the young male who suddenly found himself wondering if he’d gone mad. The night of the 31st of October had come around and Kyle, bored of anything else to do decided against his friends moans and teasing barbs to take a popular local cemetery spook night tour. The young feline, just having turned 17 often found himself the butt of many Samhain jokes, with his pure, unblemished coal black fur and long, drifting sable hair, paired with bright, expressive amber yellow eyes made him the perfect mascot for any pranksters on All Hallows Eve.
He went, so clutching his satchel containing a torch, a pad of paper, several well chewed pens, a micro-tape recorder, a bag of cheap candy and just for fun, stashed as deeply as possible in the bags depths, a can of aerosol string. After much fussing and groaning from his mother he donned a brightly coloured orange sweater. She had refused to allow him to wear all black, regaling him with the story of how his fourth uncle on his father’s side twice removed had met his fate struck by a car on Halloween night. Feeling disgusted to be dressed up like a jack-o-lantern he made good his escape and fled into the cold, misty night creeping into the wooded town of Bishop Bay.
The youth found himself walking the cold, dark streets, listening to the prattle and horse-play of kittens and cubs half his age, hearing the blare of ring tones and the beeps of walkie talkies breaking their good-natured skullduggery. Twice he dodged eggs, the third time running from a pair of young canines who seemed to want to make sport of him as a black cat dense enough to be dressed like a hunter. As he ducked into an alley he tugged his sweater up over his head, inhaling at the blast of cool wind over his bare torso as he stuffed the orange monstrosity behind his back and froze on the spot, blending into the shadows.
As the pounding of feet echoed past him and he felt as though his nipples might’ve easily cut glass Kyle pulled his thick double knitted sweater back on and hurried toward the largest historical cemetery in the outskirts of their town. He passed couples dressed in their gothic best, dodging candy lobbed his way from the occasional yowling kit dressed as their favourite horror movie monster. Some of the more sedate costumes were the best, harkening back to the time of the penny dreadful where the suspense was more of the payoff then the actual monster could ever be.
The looming black iron gates thrust into the cold air like the very stones they encircled, orange lights flickering in the outskirts lending a surreal glow to the otherwise silent plots. Kyle wended his hand along the twisted iron bars, hearing them chime softly as he twanged them with his nimble fingers. The bright eyed feline spied a small group of people milling around like tourists, sighing and rolling his eyes as the chattering band was illuminated every few seconds by the exclamation and a camera flash. The amateur ghost hunters thought they had won a prize as the young black feline loomed in the misty air, blinding him with no fewer then half a dozen flash bulbs as he hissed in surprise and cursed fluently as his vision danced with a hundred dancing blue and white stars.
The youth’s paws made adorable throttling motions as he took a break from scrubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly. He fell to the back of the group of yokels, watching the backs of gothically dressed teens, older, bulkier adults with cameras and enough gizmo to make a sharper image clerk feel faint strung around their thick necks and the occasional daunting individual dressed as though they’d escaped from some asylum based Renaissance Faire. Kyle smiled good naturedly as a few of the more daring people his age attempted to make him their mascot for the night, his ears pinking visibly as they talked in low tones about “rituals” and arcane uses for bodily fluids.
Wondering why he hadn’t thought to include a box of condoms in his Spook Night survival pack he leaned against the fence and tried to ignore the stares and whispers of the accumulated group. After what felt like an eternity a tall, handsome bat male approached from the gates of the cemetery, dressed in crisp but thankfully sensible black clothing that clashed horribly against his cream coloured fur and stately mane of chestnut hair. Kyle blushed softly as he tried not to stare at the handsome specimen, other then black cats, bats tended to have a lion’s share of the Samhain attention.
The tall male waved his torch which was filtered with a ghostly blue film, making the light it cast a funny, washed out bluish-white, “Gather round everyone, gather round please, we’re almost ready to start here.”
The bat male knew his audience well, as if he’d done this same attraction a hundred times already as he stretched his wings, making them rustle and steepled his immensely long, taloned fingers, gazing slowly over the assembled group, “Welcome to Bishop Hollow Cemetery. Tonight is the night of All Hallow’s Eve, Samhain, when the veils between worlds thin and spirits of the great beyond leak into our world. When we seek to look into the great realm of our own mortality!”
A theatrical sweep of his long, lean arm with his talon tipped fingers held open made the crowd murmur softly, nodding amongst themselves. Kyle looked bored, the bat male’s own large pale silvery eyes catching his own and winking softly, before the tall male continued, “Tonight is Halloween, and you have all come here hoping for a glimpse of the spirit world. A mist, a cold draught, a shadow or an apparition, yes, you come with your gadgets of the scientific world and hope to catch that which often does not wish to be caught.”
“You, assembled here, shall walk with me, as I attempt to tune into the spirit realm, and beg them to give us audience. This place is the oldest spot of bishop Harbour still standing, dating back almost 400 years, stacked to the brim with graves and bones of the long and recently deceased, many restlessly interred. So let us go now, before the witching hour be upon us, and glimpse our basest fears!”
The towering bat swept his torch beam across the crowd just as Kyle tipped his head, making his amber eyes flash like beacons in the dark. A shriek split the night as one of the more excitable females went to pieces at the sight of the twin orbs of liquid fire that flashed in her direction, showering the throng with her bag of candy like a piñata had exploded. Kyle cursed softly and rubbed his eyes as a dozen camera flares again blinded him, “Stop that!”
Their host chuckled gently, half amused, half irritated as he called them all back to calmer waters, motioning for Kyle to just ignore them as he swept them all through the main chapel gates. The irritable young feline rubbed his eyes till they burned, trying to chase away the ghosts of white orbs dancing through his vision. He listened to the history of the cemetery, looked apathetically at the moldy, weather rounded graves that they swept by. The gathering shadows and mist from the water beyond the town drifted in thicker and more eerily as the moon slowly rose over the trees. Nature seemed to want to put on a good show that year as the harvest moon rose pale and amber in the dark, cloudless sky.
Their bat host was taken to theatrical gestures and grandiose exclamations as he led them slowly up and down the pathways and grassy aisles of the graves, leading them to a gigantic statue of an angel with folded wings and hooded eyes that stood near one of the oldest sections of the yard. Kyle rested against the towering granite artpiece, feeling the rough, weathered hem of the chiseled robes, noting the statue felt surprisingly warm for the icy chill creeping in so decadently to tug at their warm clothes. The black feline tapped his foot against the side of the pedestal where the statue rested, listening to the deep, baritone measure of the tall bat’s voice, his eyes half closed as he shifted his attention to the other ambient sounds of the cold Halloween night. The breeze sighed, leaves falling for the coming winter rustled restlessly, the treetops high above chattering as they swayed in the wind, the occasional patter of a loose piece of gravel scraped its fellow pebbles along the paths.
The dark furred teen was in the lee of the statue, unnoticed as the group began to move away, the other dark bodies milling about, giving an illusion of more bodies then they encompassed. He sighed, feeling bored with the novelty of the cemetery tour wearing thin, pushing off the statue with his hips and setting off in the dark to try and catch the twinkling lights of the group ahead of him. Kyle set off at a lope, not seeing the stone that tripped him as he went down hard, rolling and coming up seated against the hard, cold side of a marble crypt. The whoosh of his breath and the thud of his bag cracking against his back and side made him whimper, seeing stars as he massaged his forehead.
The feline sat in the shadow of the mausoleum, almost jumping out of his fur as the massive door scraped open and a pair of eyes spied him through the crack. Kyle felt creeping horror dance up his spine, making his fur puff and a small screech parted his lips as he scrabbled backward from those ghostly blue eyes. The door swung open farther, exposing a pale, white furred feline that looked to be his own age, their finger darted to their lips in a shushing gesture, then beckoned him to follow.
Kyle rubbed his forehead again, convinced he was laying unconscious with a concussion at the base of the crypt, lucky if they found him before he froze to death. He slowly got to his feet, jumping again as a paw settled on his shoulder. He smiled, feeling the long, strong grip, assuming the bat male had noticed him missing before he turned and met a pair of blood red eyes. A squeak of fright made him feel light headed again as the unfamiliar bat male shook him, “Come on kid, come on, you looked so bored with that stupid spook night tour, we thought we might give you a special treat.”
The albino bat grinned, showing his long, sharp canines and flexed his pale, moonlight silver wings, ushering Kyle forward into the doorway of the crypt before the young feline could protest. He felt the stone steps drop away into blackness, the feeling of the bat’s oddly cool body pressing against him from behind, guiding him down, down, down into the yawning maw of liquid darkness. The stairs seemed to number a hundred, an impossible number for so small a crypt. Just when Kyle felt compelled to speak his foot hit solid stone flooring, and he blinked, trying to adjust his gaze to the gloom. His new companion whistled, “I’ve got one!”
A burst of cheers surrounded the half panicked youth as bright, festive coloured lights erupted all around him. Kyle felt a sense of unreality as he saw paper lanterns strewn with cobwebs and flickering skull shaped lamps mixed with grinning, festively cheerful jack-o-lanterns split their smiled wide to wash the room in misty colour. The feline looked around him, his eyes drawn to the shape and size of the underground cavern. It was the size of a banquet hall, with a high, arched ceiling, stone floors and tables ranged around its length. Blazing minature bonfires that twinkled in all the colours of the rainbow ringed the room, making the gauzy table dressings dance in the warmth of their breath. The lanterns and jack-o-lanterns were hung from the ceiling, set onto tables, stacked in corners and festooned all about were thin strips of black and orange crepe.
The bat steering him gestured grandly as the throng of people now filled the hall cheered wildly, Kyle heard mutterings and shouts of “He found one! He found a live one!”
As his senses ceased reeling Kyle noticed that the assembled crowd were dressed in all manner of clothing, some quite old, others more modern, in all shades of fur and hair, some dancing, others cheerfully gossiping amongst the fires and lamps. There were too many species to guess, felines, canines, lupines and vulpines, bats and rabbits mixed in amongst them including a few rather exotic specimens the young feline couldn’t make a guess at. Some of the surrounding figures were queer, silvery and pale, almost transparent as they moved just right amongst the sources of light. Many of the throng sported long, sharp teeth, and talons, a few hulking brutes seemed to be nothing but angles and points, yet they too wore expressions of cheer and happiness.
A large goblet was thrust into Kyle’s loosely held hand, and he jumped as a loose, rustling cloak of thin, papery gauze was laid across his shoulders, black and orange wove amongst the seams. A large black hat with a pointed crown was set on his head as he was led to the largest table in the center of the room and pushed into a seat. The cheerful faces bloomed all around him as his slender bat guide folded into a chair and waved his paws to and fro. All manner of the assembled group came from every angle and corner of the room, shaking Kyle’s hand, patting him on the shoulder, some simply bowing and sweeping away in their eerie silvery glow. Many individuals of both genders kissed his cheeks and forehead, wishing him well for reasons the youth couldn’t fathom as he stared around in bewildered excitement. The largest, most boisterous party he had every found himself at seemed to swell around him as music, sweet, nervous and almost ethereal drifted amongst dancers who wove in and out of the tables.
The red eyed bat grinned at him, gesturing to the goblet, “You can drink and eat, its all safe. Some of us are still amongst the living enough to enjoy food and drink on these nights of celebration.”
“A-a-a-amongst the living?” Kyle coughed softly, his voice quivering as he sipped from his drink and felt it burn his throat and stomach like fire.
The slender bat nodded enthusiastically, “Of course, of course, not all of us here are dead. Some only partly so and some of us never truly lived to begin with.”
“W-w-who are you?” Kyle tried to sort his thoughts from the morass building in his skull, looking from the bat to the other occupants of their table. A serenely beautiful couple sat on his left, their pale, ghostly pallor actually glowing in the low light. A feline and a canine dressed in fine, drifting silks and satins, their pearly fur and eyes taking in his dark hair and pelt. Across from him a hulking male wolf sat, his shaggy fur barely contained in clothing that was torn and ripped all over his massive frame, his long, almost tusk-like teeth parted in a chilling but good natured smile. Along from the hulking male a pair of eerie foxes sat, they looked almost identical, but their pelts were shabby and almost bald in spots, their thin arms and paws looked skeletal and Kyle squeaked in alarm as he noted the fact that parts of the smaller foxes skull shown through around his temples and eyes.
His smiling bat host was dressed almost regally, his white fur and dazzling mane of hair looked like spun snow, his clothing was ruddy reds and browns, brushed velvet and fine embroidered silk. The red eyed male swept to his feet and bowed, taking the feline’s paw and kissing it gently, “I am Alphonse. It is a pleasure to have you here for our feast.”
The faintly glowing feline and canine swept their arms serenely, never attempting to touch the feline as they smiled, “I am Illure, and this is my companion Barnard. We knew you would be special for our gathering.”
The hulking lupine bent his great shaggy head and patted Kyle once, between his ears, almost knocking him from his chair, “Alastor, at your service young master.”
The twin foxes tipped their hats and raised their glasses, “Nyx and Nox at your service young master, in life we were brothers, in death we are brothers with all you see here.”
“D-d-d-death??” Kyle swallowed hard, looking around at the beaming faces in all directions, his stomach doing a small flip as he noted the fangs, claws, red glowing eyes, or bones and eerie gaps amongst anatomy here and there. “Y-you mean… You’re all dead?!”
A glimmering spectral feline glided up from behind the youth, with long, flowing dark hair and gossamer like robes that seemed to whisper against the flow of the breeze which sighed around them. The ghostly male smiled, stretching out a hand and plunging it through Kyle’s shoulder, making him shriek gently as he felt like someone had thrust a spike of ice against his flesh, “Many of us are dead young master, but many are only part-way deceased and many of us still live, though they are shunned by the living.”
Alastor nodded at these words, his deep, growling bass voice making the young feline tremble, “We who are cursed in life, are shunned by it. This is no fault of yours though young master, so we do not blame you, we instead choose you for our revelry.”
“B-b-but… Why me? And what do you mean, choose me?”
The spirit drifted along around the table, circling it slowly as more specters, some black as shadow danced in and out around him. The albino bat grinned, “You are special, to our kind you are an emissary.”
Alphonse stood, his long, willowy frame stretching as he slowly circled the feline’s chair, the bat’s elegant fingers stroking Kyle’s muzzle, face, ears and hair slowly, almost lovingly, “You see, we are part of which those above seek. But they seek only to abuse, only to exploit, not to simply see and believe for what we are. You are different, we smelled it immediately, you sought, but you did not expect to find, you had no whim other then to satisfy curiosity and mayhap a little scare.”
A burst of laughter erupted as Alphonse grinned, his long fangs twinkling, “We are the monsters of yore, the dead, the cursed, the spectral, and the feeders of the dead. Our existence is defined by energy and the power of emotions. Yet above, what has this night of all nights become? A game of frippery, meaningless and exalted as sport, reduced to mindless little drones throwing eggs and that twilet paper, of which they speak in your world…”
“Toilet…” Kyle added meekly, his mind racing, “But why don’t you just show yourselves to everyone?”
“Ahh…” A mournful sigh swept the room, making Alphonse wave his paws in a dismissive gesture, “There are rules young master. If all were aware of our existence, who would have a moments peace? Would we frighten them so? Why we would starve of our very lifeblood if none feared us, even this mere once a year. We live together with your kind peaceably and only work our craft once a year on this night. Our magic remains special for it, but once a century, we choose one… One to become our prince, our emissary, the one who does not fear us, but has seen us and knows us and calls us by our names, for in a name there is power and in belief of something there is form.”
Kyle nodded slowly, gazing at the handsome bat, “So… You’ve chosen me, as your preserver?”
“Yes!” The bat’s ruby eyes lit up as he roared to the ceiling, shouts of merry glee and excitement joining his yell as Kyle blushed softly, suddenly embrassed. He bit his lip softly, “D-d-do I have to live with you, or become one of you, or something?”
“No young master. You do not have to become one of us, and you do not have to live amongst us, unless you wish to. You will be marked others of our kind and other holders of our great secret will be known to you and you them. You may access the underworld any time you so desire if you wish to make merry at some time other then under the Samhain skies.”
Alphonse spun, his elegant shoes tapping on the flagstones as he raised his goblet high, seeing dozens and dozens of flasks, goblets and cups raised high in salute. Kyle raised his as well, still looking nervous, sipping and again feeling the fire sluice down his throat. The black feline looked at the assembled throng of merry specters, “S-so… You’re all… Uh… Ghosts, and werewolves and zombies and wraiths and… V-vampires and such?”
“Yes, we are.” The albino bat grinned, his long, sharp fangs making Kyle nod and swallow softly, “You’re not gonna…”
“Bite you, young master? Why ever would one of us do that unless you too wished to join us in unlife?”
The bat looked cheerfully confused, making the feline shift a bit, “You mean I could become one of you… I-I-if I wanted to, when I got say, older?”
“Indeed. When you are old and silver, you may wish that boon of one of our fang-toothed members. Or you could join the ranks of us specters. It’s much fun.”
The dark haired ghost smiled as he drifted through the table and then flowed around Kyle to applause. The youth looked at Alphonse as he chewed his lip, “So Halloween is real, and you’re all monsters?”
The bat chuckled merrily as he gestured to a passing feline with stunning gray/blue fur and eyes that were almost jade coloured. The new male feline grinned and dropped into a chair next to Kyle’s, making the black furred male jump as he proceeded to stroke and caress his arm and paw, “Monster is a relative term. We simply live our lives as you do yours, if you’ll excuse the wildly inappropriate use of the term life…”
Kyle squirmed softly as he nodded, the new feline giggling gently as he held the ebon furred male’s goblet for him. Alphonse perked a giant ear, “Is Evan not to your taste? I can fetch a female if you wish…”
“No, no… He’s fine, very pretty, really…” Kyle blushed as he gazed at the other feline’s immaculately groomed fur, hair and clothing, noting that Evan’s paws were slightly cool to the touch and his fangs were quite large. The dark haired specter gazed at the feline and bat male, “All of their kind tend to be. Centuries of glamour and grooming make it something of their speciality.”
Alphonse waved his paw, “We vampires have eternity to niggle over passing vanities. You can forgive us a few flaws in our personalities, I think.”
The party atmosphere roared to a full tilt around the young feline as he cheered and drank and sang amongst the throng of eerie revelers, hours passing before he even knew it. Evan was giggling in Kyle’s lap, the two exchanging caresses and kisses from time to time under Alphonse’s eye. Kyle sighed softly as he looked at the assembled party, “I wish this could go on longer, I don’t have many friends.”
Evan cooed sympathetically, and Alphonse nodded gravely, “We mourn for your lack my young master, but do not despair, we can visit you at any time you wish, so long as it is in the night.”
A shout of merriment rang out as a pair of clanking skeletons brought a magnificent wooden and gold casket from the end of the hall and presented it in front of Kyle. Alastor lifted the lid for Alphonse who leaned in and withdrew an amazingly crafted silver mirror. The mirror was neither large nor small, about the size of a soup plate, with a carved handle made of bone. He presented it to the feline who grasped it and gasped. The mirror didn’t show his own face, but it was as though he were looking straight through a clear pane of glass.
“It is unbreakable, young Kyle. You may use it at any time to speak to us, or to see the underworld. And these shall be your stations of office.”
The albino bat drew out from the casket a fine chain of gold, from it dangled a pendant that looked like carved jet and ruby, the ruby trapped within the fine cage of the glossy black stone, “The obsidian eye, is yours.”
Evan grinned and slipped the chain around Kyle’s neck, where it felt cool, yet seemed to twitch softly at times. The steel furred male kissed Kyle softly, smoothing his hair back as Alphonse pulled a small box from the case and opened it. A small gold ring sat nestled inside the velvet lined box, with a smoothly polished stone of marvelous bright pink and milky silver. A moon and 3 stars were carved into the face of the signet, the ring thrumming softly as it was slipped onto the feline’s finger.
“The ring of the dreamer, it reigns over the night and calls to us. No one save you or us will see it, it will protect you.”
Alphonse raised his glass, “We name you now, Master Kyle, keeper of the autumn night, friend of the Eve of All Hallows, life giver of those who dwell below.”
Kyle felt giddy as he looked around at the assorted faces, feeling Evan’s weight in his lap, “I wish this could go on forever.”
Alphonse smiled softly, “You may take Evan with you, if he wishes it. But sunlight does not agree with our kind. It pains us and robs us of our powers.”
Kyle nodded, grinning, “My bedroom is the attic. Plenty of dark spots up there.”
As the ebon furred feline smiled giddily he heard a bell begin to toll. The party around them quieted as the chimes struck 3, then 4, then half a dozen, reaching 12 before they ceased, their final gong quivering in the air. Alphonse raised his hands, “The bell strikes the witching hour of this, our night. Midnight on the night of Samhain, our revelries are ended for this year. May the night bless us all.”
Kyle sighed softly, smiling as Evan nudged him, “Just how old are you anyway Evan?”
The other feline grinned a bit, “236. Does it matter?”
“No, just curious, you don’t look a day over 16.”
The ebon furred feline slid his pack around to nestle the mirror inside, wrapping it in a length of cloth. He felt resistance when he shoved and pulled the wrapped mirror back out, grinning as he realized the blockage was the can of aerosol string and the bag of candy. He yanked these free and offered them to Alphonse, “Uh, I didn’t give you anything back… Happy Halloween.”
The happy shouts of amusement amongst the loosely drifting throngs washed over the young feline as he stood with his new vampiric friend clasping his paw. Alphonse held up the bag and canister, “The last treat of Halloween!”
The albino bat grinned down at Kyle, “See you next year.”
