A seaside town in Ireland
2 months later
An hour before Sunrise
The early spring air was quiet and still, the cool grey light of pre-dawn gently stretching through the sky. Seagulls cawed, heard over even the crash of distant ocean waves. In a small guest house, hidden just off the main street, Ivy Kunze lay awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark. It was hard, even months later, to turn her brain off at night, to flicker her eyes away from the spirits that would dart outside the window.
Anton lay on a cot next to her, his soft breaths a welcome distraction from the other noises in her dialed up hearing. The heartbeat of her parents sounded in her ears as well, and Ivy let her head turn soundlessly to stare at the open door of her parent's room - leaving her and Anton in clear sightline. It was easier, she thought, to tune out the soft calls outside when she had the noises of her family around her, but the itch was building up in her bones all the same. Something tugged in her stomach and aura, and the slow retreat of night acted as her countdown.
As slowly as she could, Ivy pushed the blankets back, focusing her sharp sight on her parent's forms. When there was no change, she kept her breathing shallow, sliding her foot out from under a furry weight. The Tailypo blinked up at her, resentful that its rest was disturbed.
It was too risky to speak, but Ivy pointed a stern finger. The Tailypo, thankfully, didn't huff, instead giving a dramatic stretch and scuttling up her arm, balancing on her shoulder with its fur puffed up. She'd slipped on her shoes earlier and so stood soundlessly, moving towards the door (the window latch was far too noisy). With a center of balance from skating and a fluidity that wasn't quite human, Ivy slipped out into morning air without her parents or brother stirring.
It was cool, the breeze from the ocean bringing a flush to her cheeks, but she pulled on her jacket, the dew collecting on her shoes as she turned towards the streets downtown. The Tailypo bore the ride for a bit, but as the Wind picked up, it hissed and hopped off her shoulder, scuttling into the bushes and disappearing into the thin air of a Gateway. Ivy rolled her eyes fondly and kept walking.
Not many people were out, but Ivy didn't mind. She'd gotten used to seeing humans everywhere, learning to tune out their heartbeats as white noise, but it still gave her a headache. Her family had only been here a few days, and she'd played nice: not wandering off, keeping her head down, translating for her mother when the accents got to be too difficult.
"How do you have such an easy time with it?" Her mother had asked after a particularly frustrating conversation, her own accent sharpening her words. Ivy hid the twinge of hurt at the memory the words evoked, the same one that stung at the familiarity of the voices around her.
The street lights were flickering off, and Ivy felt as though she could almost sense the sun - she had enough time. She slowed her stride as she passed a small shop, smiling at the tired grocer. She rubbed at the coins in her pocket, looked at the display out front, and made a choice.
The grocer barely blinked, an exhaustion etched onto every wrinkle on his face, and Ivy wondered with a grin where the line was between a night owl and morning person as she adjusted the brown paper under her arm. Now seemed to be the time where everything was possible, where anything could emerge from the fog rolling in to cover the moss-covered buildings. Ivy fixed her hearing and internal compass, smiling at the neat cobblestone bricks beneath her feet as she followed the tug in her stomach, wandering out of town and trying to ignore the saltwater breeze that wafted around her face. The Wind remained silent, however, and Ivy was grateful, wondering how the formless being always knew what she was thinking.
The town was small enough that it wasn't long before she left it behind altogether, the cobblestone giving way to dirt and the trees beginning to creep in closer. The trail turned upwards and Ivy re-adjusted her grip on the bundle, sweaty fingers sliding off the wax paper as her heart pounded. She thought longingly of her skateboard, still locked away back home, but still appreciated the burn of her legs and lungs, a welcome distraction from the burning in her mind.
These days, any reminder that she was still alive was enough.
Eventually, the tree line broke and Ivy stood before her destination, the itch in her bones at last beginning to quiet. She stood in the grey light, catching her breath as she looked over the cemetery, crumbling stones giving way to a stunning view of the ocean, white caps visible to Ivy's new eyes. She took a breath and began to pick her way through the rows, ignoring the cleaner stones in the front, keeping her footfalls light so as to not disturb the ghosts.
The ground was uneven, twigs and rocks littering the path, but Ivy pressed on, tracking the dates as she went deeper into the graveyard, to where the writing was eroded away, moss clung to the once white stone that grimy grey. The air was still and tentative, as though all the unseen beings were holding their breath.
The tug in her stomach went white-hot and she paused, sweeping her gaze down the row. One grave caught her eye - it was separated from the others, and Ivy couldn't help but laugh bitterly at seeing that it was covered in ivy, the leaves wrapping around until the stones were nearly obscured. She knelt down, pulling off the stubborn plant and scrubbing the cold stone with her sleeve. The cold seeped through the fabric and into her skin, grime flaked down, but she kept scrubbing until the name was revealed.
Ciaran Doherty. April 10, 1523 - October 31, 1555.
Beloved Priest and Friend.
Ivy sat down, leaning against the back of another grave, feeling the weight of the letters settle over her. She stretched her legs out across the grass covering his grave, stomach swooping at the knowledge that the dirt beneath her was empty. Sea salt and smoke filled her lungs, but she told herself it was just the Wind, carrying the spray of the ocean.
A few rows over, hidden beneath a willow tree, a crumbling gravestone glowed, almost completely destroyed by time, with what might have been a letter J still visible. Ivy didn't notice the slight tug the gravestone offered, too focused on keeping her memory in the present.
With a sigh, she pulled the bundle out from under her arm, unwrapping the paper and reached forward to carefully balance the rose on top of the grave. The Wind picked up speed but the rose remained, and Ivy leaned back once more. She didn't know if the witch had a grave, but hoped that somewhere, somehow, there would be peace in the afterlife.
The first rays of sunlight broke over the ocean, making the rose glow. The sea began to sparkle, the temperature rose slightly, and Ivy rested her chin on her knee, watching as the world slowly came to life. Far beneath her feet, or perhaps through the Veil, she knew the Town was settling into another day. Perhaps the children would be showing Rosie the games they'd invented while she was gone, and Sally would be concocting some new brew while the Doctor grumbled. Perhaps the Creature would be putting on the kettle for the other Classics, the Mayor burying himself in paperwork, and Jack… she smiled to herself. Jack would be involved in whatever chaos the town created.
She couldn't stay here forever, she knew. Soon she'd have to slip back into the house, keep her head low, and try to figure out what to do next, how to balance her human and Halloween sides. She had to figure out school, how to deal with the stares from her friends, how to ignore the whispers in her mind, how to be the Ambassador Halloween needed.
But for now, she could simply exist, wrapped in the chill of dawn, staring down the new day.
Ivy sat, perched on the grave, watching the sun slowly appear on the horizon. Her life waited behind her, but she wasn't ready to head back yet. Instead she sat there with the Wind in her hair, the sun on her face, and the sensation of potential Gateways and futures swirling around her.
The End
And that's it.
It feels unreal to think that we're at the end - Tricked Out has been a labour of love for me since Sept. 7th, 2015. I started it my freshman year of high school, and as I write this, it's the finals week for my second year in University. Me, my writing, and this history have changed so much, and I have you all to thank. I began this in a fit of determination to write what I thought a 'realistic' journey into Halloween would be, and while that's remained at the soul of it, the stories and characters have gone beyond what I ever could of dreamed of. And along the way, through the changes and breaks, you all have been there, supporting me with your words and clicks. Tricked Out is the story it is because of the love and encouragement you all gave me, and now whether you're reading this live in 2021 or long after, know that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
But I'm not going away, and neither is this story! Here's what's happening next:
The Sequel
Yes, Tricked Out is getting a sequel. I wanted to write Tricked so that it could stand on its own, and never planned on a sequel, but I got way too attached to these characters and their dynamics. What's the plot? It'll follow the plot of the movie, showing Jack's obsession and Ivy balancing what exactly the next steps are after having a supernatural adventure. It'll be a lot shorter than Tricked Out, AND will be fully written before being uploaded here. (No more waiting for me!) The tentative release date for Tricked Too (working title) is October of 2022, but I'll keep you all updated!
Between Tricks: An Anthology
"But Aria, 2022 is so far away!"
I hear you. That's why, to tide everyone over, I'll be uploading short snippets of this universe to the Anthology! It'll feature scenes that got cut from the main storyline, some alternate universe, set up for Too and Skeleton Anne, requests, and of course helping to bridge the gap between this story and the sequel. (There are over 20 drafts at the moment!) The chapters will be episodic rather than one big story, and they'll be a lot shorter than normal Tricked chapters (famous last words, I'm sure). Anthology chapters will be posted as a separate story starting NEXT SATURDAY with the first few, as well as on Tricked Out's tumblr, (tricked-out), where you can submit prompts!
Re-Write
So... if you read the last chapter and the first one, you'll probably see the evolution that naturally occurs after 5.2 years of writing. For the sake of consistency, I've held off doing any major editing until the main story was finished - and here we are! I'm going to be working on the first 15-20 chapters, but no major plot points will be added or taken away. (It's really more for my sanity than anything else). The general idea is to condense certain scenes or chapters, make certain plot points/foreshadowing a bit clearer, fixing grammar/spelling, and perhaps add a few bonus scenes. It'll be updated here and over on AO3 once finished (bi-weekly updates on Ao3).
That's all! Thank you again for sticking by me (and reading through this long author note). Know that I am immensely thankful and grateful for all the support. Just like the Classics, you've breathed life into these characters alongside me.
Danke,
-Aria