Go Home or Go Dead ✓

Where To?

"I'm going back."

Ilona yanks my arm so suddenly that said arm looses feeling and sticks out like a prosthetic addition to my body. She straightens her dress that rode dangerously her up her thighs and keeps walking the block to the party address.

With each block we pass nearing the location of this inconspicuous party, my palms drip just as much gallons of sweat. I wipe my hands on my pink tutu-inspired dress and make sure to stay as close to Ilona as possible.

"I want to go back, Ilona," I repeat for what seems like the twentieth time in six minutes. My gaze would instantly whip to anything that moved in the slightest suspicious way, and I try again to hide from Ilona's line of sight so I can bite my nails.

"You ruin my handwork, I ruin your hands. Take that out your mouth now."

I glare and hesitantly follow her past another block. The streets are almost empty, save for the handful of teenage boys smoking fake cigars and sporting obviously fake tattoos. Occasionally, kids in groups of five would march past us with their faux rafia baskets as they prance from door to door demanding candy.

I would grimace at those kids and slam the door in their faces if they came to our house, but my mind is only mildly bothered by the innocent young ones. I can already hear the bass of hardcore electro music as we near the address, and my already dripping palms gush out more bucket loads of sweat.

Ilona checks the card again to be sure we're at the right house, then smiles in satisfaction. She doesn't wait to see if I'm behind her as she run-walks the rest of the way and bounds up to the large porch of the goth themed duplex.

I'm tempted to make a run for it while she's paying me no mind, but Ilona yells, "Get your lazy ass over here, sis!" over her shoulder. I slump and drag my feet to the door, and the second I reach the landing, Ilona drags me into what is definitely the most negatively charged environment I've ever been in, and that's says a lot.

By negatively charged, I mean the guests here took cosplaying for Halloween miles farther than they should have.

A guy bumps into me as I try to keep up with Ilona, and as he smiles, my eyes widen in disgust at his jagged shark like teeth. I blink and turn away, only to notice Ilona's already the drinks table. Three girls wearing Tinkerbell-esque costumes gush over my tutu and proceed to walk away like I'm invisible.

What in the world is going on in here?

As I bump my way through the crowd in a desperate effort to not lose sight of Ilona, every single person pierces me with a blank stare before resuming their dancing. I feel my skin crawl whenever someone bumps me. When I finally claw my way out of the questionable crowd, I grip Ilona's arm like an iron clamp.

"Cool one, Ilona. Such a nice way to abandon your baby sister. And I'm supposed to be your chaperone?"

Ilona snorts. "Get over it, kiddo."

I shake my head. This is no time for our endless back and forths. I need to get her and myself out of here.

"Ilona, we need to go. This place is creepy."

Ilona gives me a look. "Well, duh! It's Halloween."

"No, you don't get it. This place is like actually really creepy. Like, I'm trapped in a spiderweb Frodo-style creepy."

Ilona sighs and pats my shoulders as we come to stand eye to eye. She gives me that big sister 'It's okay, I've got you' look, but I don't buy it for a second. Everything in me wants me to run out the door and never look back.

"You know what? I'll just stay outside. Call me when you're ready to go," I say and turn around for the entrance. Ilona doesn't waste a second getting back to socializing once I leave.

You've sure got me, big sis. I think, rolling my eyes.

On my way out, the shark guy bumps into me again and smiles, and I practically race out to the porch. I run down the stairs, my tutu bouncing around my thighs, but as I turn the corner, I don't see any blocks. I turn both ways to see the street completely empty.

Then, they materialize, one by one in an agonizing slow-mo that I start to wonder if I'm finally losing my shit.

There and then, the streets become lined with headstones that stretch for miles and miles without an end, and all I can think is,

"Oh, fuck."