by Voima Oy
This time of year when the light is sharp and the dark comes early there is a thinning of the veil between the worlds. It shimmers, a spider web caught for a moment in the porch light. A plastic bag becomes a ghost.
All their houses are dressed up for Halloween. They give candy to appease the dead.
I still keep his silver ring. If I hold it close and speak his name we will dance together tonight.
I will hear him whispering sweet words in my ear as the children shriek, "Stay away. Stay away from the witch house!"
Author bio: Voima Oy lives on the western rim of Chicago, near the expressway and the Blue Line trains. Her writing can be found online at Paragraph Planet, Visual Verse, 101 Fiction, Sick Lit and Unbroken Journal. Follow her on Twitter, too – @voimaoy
Sweet is part of 101 Fiction issue 13.