Hallow

EPILOGUE

5 MONTHS LATER

- - -

THIS WAS NOT WHAT DYLAN was expecting when he opened the door. Not at all. The mailman, sure. A neighbor, certainly. But this platinum blonde with pink talons? On his doorstep? There must have been a mistake.

For a few awkward seconds, he forgot how to produce language. Amelia McKinnon was on his doorstep. Amelia McKinnon was on his doorstep! What did he say to this girl who had perpetuated the name Loner Dylan for all of high school? And more importantly, what was she doing at his house?

"Hi, um, Dylan. I know this is - odd, and like, we haven't always...gotten on, but...would you happen to have a photo of Bethanie?"

His mouth still wasn't working. He stared.

"It's just, you were with her on the last day. Like, you were there. And I know you always have that camera with you, so surely you must have photos of her. I mean, not just of her - I'm sure you take photos of lots of people and - things. But I'd just like one of her, if you have one. So I can understand, you know? Or at least, understand better. Or-"

"I have one," he said suddenly, cutting her off. If she was surprised by his unexpected use of vocal chords, she didn't show it. "I have a bunch. I'll just grab them."

Amelia's face lit up with happiness and relief. "Great!"

Dylan ran upstairs and into his room. There on his desk sat two folders: a beige university portfolio; and a second, black one that he had yet to label. He grabbed it and ran back down.

"Here," he said, back at the door. He handed it to Amelia.

"I promise I'll give it back before school ends."

Dylan shook his head. "No, it's fine. Keep it. It's yours."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. Then Amelia opened it up and started flipping through the photos. Bethanie silhouetted in his door frame. Bethanie amongst the trees. The view over the falls. Various photos from the graveyard and the river and the haunted house. Halfway through, Amelia got caught on the one of Bethanie at Hallow-Hains Festival. Florence had been in that picture, but Amelia didn't know that.

"Is that - a lollipop? Floating?"

"Photoshop," he said quickly. "I was just messing around." He forced a natural laugh. He wasn't sure if it quite worked out.

She smiled and frowned simultaneously. "Alright. Thanks." She closed the portfolio and tucked it under her arm. "I'll see you at school."

"Yeah," he said, and watched her walk down the path before shutting the door.

- - -

Later that day, Dylan drove down to the graveyard. It was a balmy blue-skied afternoon and the meadow was full of flowers.

And dead people, too, of course. But he tried not to dwell on that.

He grabbed the bouquet he'd picked up from the florist and got out of his car. He'd gotten seven yellow tulips, tied together with a gold bow. When he bought them, they had looked the cheeriest flowers in the room. He wanted nothing less.

Dylan walked leisurely though the tombstones. The meadow was humming. Bees buzzed through the air. The wind rolled in the grass, swept through the trees. A pair of birds danced across the sky. For a place so steeped in death, it felt full of life.