The Strange Stranger
A Halloween Story


There was a stranger in a black hooded cloak, and he was very strange.  

Strange, as in odd.  Not so much because of the black cloak, since it was supposed to be a night of costumed revelry, and the streets were full of people dressed as various things, ranging from whorish maids to whorish cats to equally whorish pirates.  Occasionally someone wore a non-whorish costume too.  Like black cloaks.  

No, the stranger was strange because he was following me.  

I turned abruptly down a side street, detouring out of the party area on the main road.  After counting three seconds, I glanced back.  

Nothing.  

Deep breaths, I told myself, he's gone.  

Hurrying two blocks from the main road, I turned again, continuing in the direction I was meaning to go in the beginning.  A group of costumed people passed me, including a pirate girl, some sort of furry animal that involved ears and an absurdly short skirt, a superhero, and a garishly-colored fluffy-haired monstrosity.  I ducked inconspicuously and continued.  My road home was rather long, and for a while I came across no one.  

Several blocks later, another reveler appeared, this one in a black cloak.  Well, I thought, at least he's fully-clothed and not blinding.  

Except…when he paused in front of me and stood in silence, I realized his costume looked rather familiar.  My stalker was back.  

"What do you want?" I finally asked, when he refused to let me pass.  

The stranger made a sort of humming noise and said nothing.  

"Do I know you?" I tried again.  He (I thought it sounded like a male) nodded.  Or, at least I thought that was what he did.  The hood dipped a few times.  

"Who are you?"  

"Who do you think I am?" he whispered, halfway between eerie and…tender?  

I eyed him curiously, unable to see anything other than the cloak.  "Do I know you well?"  The hood moved up and down again.  I took it as a "yes".  

There was a long silence as I tried to think of something to say.  

"Three years ago," he said finally, "You remember?"  

I thought about it, and had to shake my head.  

"You don't remember," he sighed out.  

"Lots of things happened in a year!" I shouted, annoyed, "How do you expect me to remember without even seeing what you look like?"  

"It was in a similar place, wasn't it?"  

"What?"  

"You really don't remember?"  I shook my head, and he suddenly pushed the hood away.  

A well-defined face and brilliantly-colored eyes sheathed in a mask of negativity to hide the buried hurt.  Memories I had forgotten trickled rapidly back into my head.  

"You are…"  He nodded, as if telling me to go on.  "You tried to kill me."  

"Yes."  

"Three years ago.  You--why?"  

"Why?  Because I loved you."  

"You're insane!"  He laughed.  

"Of course I am."  

"Why are you here?  To kill me again?"  His laughter was louder this time.  

"You still don't remember everything."  

"What--"

"I may have tried to kill you, but you were the one who killed me."  

"I--what?  I didn't--I haven't--you're dead?"  

"Yes."  

"And I killed you?  

"Yes."  For whatever reason, I believed him.  

"Why?"

"Because you hated me."  

"What?  I know this is repetitive, but, why?"  

"Well, I suppose…I was trying to kill you."  

"Because you loved me."  

"Yes."  

"I don't understand."  He smiled.  

"Slowly.  It'll come back to you."  

I waited, and let a few more memories trickle back in.  

"You…loved me."  

"I did."  

"And I hurt you."  The smile faded somewhat, but he nodded.  "You went crazy from the strain, so you tried…"  Odd, I didn't think this would be painful.  "And then I-"  

"It was self-defense," he said gently.  "I was…not stable."  

I gave a short laugh.  "You're trying to defend me?"  

"I'm not expecting you to forgive me.  Just let me say I'm sorry?"  I nodded.  

My suppressed memories were almost all back, and I was feeling long-forgotten emotions again.  Somehow everything suddenly felt rather sad.  

"I'm sorry too."  

He closed his eyes.  "I've never regretted anything so much."  

"Is that why you're here?"  

"Couldn't let go, you know.  That's why ghosts exist at all."  

"I'm not sure…"  I laughed half-heartedly.  "I'm not sure if I want to ask you to keep regretting and stay here."  

"Or?"  Because we both knew there was one.  

"Or if I want you to stop torturing yourself and let it go."  

He was silent, his ethereal shape floating gently in the cold night air.  

"Your life was pretty crappy because of me, you know?  I don't want you to be stuck here remembering."  

"I won't forget," he said, holding out a hand.  "I swear I won't."  I reached, but my fingers swept through his ghostly ones.  "Remember me?" he asked.  I nodded, suddenly deprived of speech.  "I think…"  And he smiled, for real.  "I think I might be fading."  

"I'm sorry," tore from my lips, and I was crying, "I'm so sorry for-"  

"I am too.  We're-"  

Somehow I knew what he wanted to say.  

"Yeah."  

"I'm glad," he whispered, his voice growing faint.  "I really did love…"

And then he vanished.  

"I know," I told the night sky.  "I know."  


End.