Morticia stared in the oval mirror, frozen at the spot. She touched her hair, then her shoulder, then her stomach. She swallowed. She quickly left the room and quietly entered Ophelia's.

"Almost ready?" Ophelia was braiding small sections of hair in the mirror of her rose-colored vanity. "We said goodnight to mother hours ago, and I'm sure you hear the blissful snores of uncle. As does the entire mountain."

"I think I'm going to evaporate," Morticia clutched her stomach as she paced. "A hole is burning through my abdomen, I don't think I have successfully inhaled oxygen in the last hour, and I can feel roast yak slithering it's way back up my throat."

"And they say I'm the dramatic one." Ophelia smiled as she wrapped another section of hair in a soft pink ribbon. "Meditate. Use the chamomile oil on the nightstand."

"You know I don't like the smell."

"Lavender?"

"I think you want me to spew up roast yak..."

"Gross. Little sister, it's just your tortured, sheltered mind," Ophelia stood up and turned to look at Morticia. "...A full collared dress? Art thou demented?" She took her sister's hand and pulled her back across the hallway to her own room. She opened Morticia's wardrobe and began running her hands over every garment. "I know you've made plenty of seductive little numbers that you're far too nervous wear."

"And who exactly am I seducing tonight?"

"I don't know, the world, Morticia! Listen to me," she turned and put her hands on her sister's shoulders. "This attitude is far unlike you. When I was too scared to ride a broom for the first time, you got on and let me hold onto you while you steered. So that's going to be me tonight. I am steering your broom and you're going to grip on for dear life while screaming, crying and begging to get down. Now," she reached back into the wardrobe and took out a slim black dress, "put this on, you porcelain pearl. You have breasts did you know? Breasts, breasts and collarbones!"

Morticia smirked and held the dress to her body in front of the mirror. Ophelia was the only one who made her feel normal for having vain and feminine thoughts. Ophelia put her chin on her shoulder.

"Think of it... we're witches, attending a Halloween party. We're basically the main event."

Ophelia was slowly pouring confidence back into Morticia. "No one must know."

"Of course not."

"Shouldn't we be in costume?"

"Sister, dear, we are the costume."

...

"For a mansion so large and a town so small, you think this wouldn't be so difficult!" Ophelia shielded her eyes from the wind as she held tightly onto Morticia on the back of their knotty broomstick. Soaring through the air, they kept a look out for what they saw in the crystal ball that evening. Leaving the mountain was a breeze, but once they had entered the town they felt as though they crossed a certain boundary line. As if they left a shield of protection and were now fully exposed. Any next move was completely up to them. Morticia pulled the front of the broomstick upward and they skidded to a halt in midair. They both looked around.

"Do you remember anything about the surroundings?" Ophelia sighed, growing impatient.

"All I saw was the mansion, when I touched it, I-..." Morticia rolled her eyes when she came to a realization. "Oh, why are we so dimwitted, just enchant the broom!"

"You're so right." Ophelia reached into a small satin pouch on her side that closed with a golden clasp. She took out a hand full of Hawk's Eye powder and clutched it tight. "How does it go?"

"To fulfill our quest and fascination, take us to our destination..." Morticia recited, irritability.

Ophelia nodded and held the powder up to her mouth and blew. The powder trickled onto the bristles of the broom and Morticia gripped tight.

"Hold on." In a matter of seconds the broom dived at full speed, sending a jolt through the girls' stomachs and releasing a scream from Ophelia.

"Why would you ever scream like that?"

"I'm sorry!"

The broom span, turned, and whisked through the town. Houses and buildings were a blur. Ophelia had her eyes shut tight and her head buried in Morticia's back, as Morticia squinted her eyes against the wind. Finally, they came to a clearing on the outskirts of town where there were no houses or streets at all except for one long road. Even trees were scarce. All of a sudden, standing proudly in the distance, there it was. Morticia's eyes lit up and her heart raced. "There! There! See the tower?" Ophelia looked up to see where her sister was pointing. The large mansion with flashing lights stood just a mile away. Ophelia shook Morticia with excitement.

Ophelia clutched her chest, "Oh, help me, it feels like bees are pollinating sunflowers in my stomach!"

"We can't let them see us fly in. We'll park it where those bushes are and walk the rest of the way."

"Okay, hurry, hurry!"

Pushing forward, Morticia swiftly dove behind a collection of bushes near the edge of the road. The girls dismounted and got their bearings, recovering from the stressful flight. After tucking the broom into the bush, Morticia smoothed her dress and adjusted her neckline. It was a lot more revealing than anything she had ever worn. She pulled her hair in front to hide some of the exposed flesh.

"My hair, my hair, fix my hair!" Ophelia whined as she made sure each braid was still tight and intact.

"It's fine, Ophelia, really. Let's just... let's start walking."

As the girls stepped onto the road, headlights came speeding into view and a car horn roared at them. Ophelia let out a startled scream and jumped back into Morticia. Morticia gripped her. "Scream one more time, Ophelia."

"It nearly hit me!"

"I'm not trying to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves tonight!"

"Well, I don't really see the point in that. Come on."

The girls began walking the long road to the party. As the sound of voices and music got closer, their nerves became almost unbearable. Neither of them really knew what to expect or what they were really here for, and that quickly became more apparent to them.

"Is there a plan?" Morticia kept her eyes forward. She was rigid, as if something was going to jump out at them.

"I don't think so. Have an experience? Meet real people for once... we know what parties are."

"Yes, from books. Something tells me this won't be like Old Capulet's masquerade."

"Oh, I do hope it is... Well, we'll just do what everyone else is doing."

"Exactly what everyone else is doing. Like not using magic, or exposing ourselves."

"What if people ask where we're from?"

"We're from Swamp Town. No need for specifics."

"Oh hell, here it is..."

The mansion slowly came into full view before them. It was the tallest thing they had ever seen in their lives. They entered through a wrought iron gate that seemed to hold itself open in a chivalrous manner. Morticia stopped, unnoticed by Ophelia who was walking toward the house with her eyes fixed and mouth agape. Morticia gazed at the tower as it loomed over her. Now that she was still, it seemed as though the tower was slowly falling forward, perhaps to pick her up or whisper a secret in her ear. There was some sort of personality within the structure. This angle was far different than what was presented through the crystal, and this time, the gargoyles were staring down at her. Not menacingly, but practically begging her to enter. Sudden movement from the tower window distracted her from the expressions of the gargoyles. Her eyes squinted.

"Morticia!" Ophelia whispered, harshly, motioning for her to pick up the pace. Ophelia looked completely out of place, standing in front of a mob of people who were mingling outside the house. She quickly closed the space between them and the girls now stood together in front of a copper fountain in the middle of the roundabout driveway. The fountain was a sculpture of what looked like a malnourished man being pecked alive by vultures. The water of the fountain was pouring from both eyes.

"Whoa... what do we have here?" A man with floppy brown hair and a muscular build slid off the banister of the front porch, running towards the girls, excitedly. He was shirtless with a pair of denim jeans on. He stopped and eyed the girls, up and down. "Beautiful, beautiful... let's see, a sexy vampire," he pointed at Morticia and tilted his head at Ophelia, surveying the daisies on her head, "and... adorable flower fairy? Perhaps?"

"No, no, we're human." Ophelia responded, not trying to be discreet that she was very enthralled by the man's torso. Morticia nudged Ophelia.

"I think he meant our costumes, dear sister."

"Sisters? Oh, I love it." He laughed, completely enthused. "I've never seen you two before, believe me, I would remember. Argus Brown, at your service." He took both of their hands together to bring them to his lips. Ophelia retreated, immediately, when she saw three long silver blades protruding from Argus's hand.

"You have claws!" She stared in astonishment.

Argus looked at his hand and opened and closed his fist. "Oh yeah, they're gloves. Mrs. Addams made them for me. I'm Wolverine this year." He jumped into a fighting stance, his claws pointing toward the girls. Morticia stared, unfazed. Ophelia covered her mouth for a small giggle.

"Forgive me, but... that's a most terrible wolverine costume. You don't even have fur." Ophelia reached out her finger to lightly touch Argus's pectoral, "Not at all..."

Morticia stared daggers at her sister, wondering how in the world she could be so bold and invasive. She then realized that Ophelia was not acting out of the ordinary. Argus let out a cackling laugh.

"God help me, that's precious. You know what, you girls made me laugh, so drinks' on me! Come on inside." He took Ophelia's hand and reached for Morticia's, but stopped when he met her glare. "Follow me, then..." He turned and led the girls to the porch, past the mingling and drinking guests. Once inside, the girls felt as though they just landed on Mars. The mansion seemed even bigger on the inside, with ceilings higher than the trees that shielded them on the mountain. Beautiful rugs and wonderous decorations, including a French guillotine, a two-headed giant tortoise, and an eight-foot-tall stuffed black bear that welcomed them inside. Ophelia yelped and jumped into Argus's arms when she heard a roaring beneath her feet - the girls looked down at a white bear rug that was shaking its head and gnarling its teeth.

"Don't let Bruno get to you, he loves to scare on Halloween. The bar is upstairs, this way." He smiled, dashingly, and continued to lead them through the crowd.

Ophelia whispered to her sister, "Quite fond of bears, aren't they?" Morticia nodded and observed the interior as she walked. Argus lead the girls up the red, carpeted staircase. Guests passed by one after the other, and the girls tried their best to get a good look at each costume. They entered a long hallway where cobwebs dawned the corners of the ceiling and rats scurried along under their feet. Portraits of fascinating, upper class people lined the hallway, with dripping candles on wall sconces in between. Morticia wanted to stop and stare, but felt extremely rushed. Music and voices grew louder as they approached two open doors. They entered what looked like a grand ballroom. Guests danced to a chilling, toe-tapping number being played by a band of five. There were strings and horns, and when Morticia squinted her eyes, she believed she could see four hands playing one cello. Before she could get a better look, she found herself tripping over an object that came up to her thigh. She looked down to see a top hat on a small gentlemen with long hair.

"Oh, excuse me." Morticia apologized. The gentlemen looked up, but Morticia was not met with a face - just hair. The creature tipped its hat and went on about its way. Morticia felt her arm being tugged by Ophelia and continued to follow behind. There was so much to look at and everything was so loud, that Morticia began to feel herself becoming overwhelmed. It was all so wonderful, and yet incredibly different, and all she wanted was to be still and observe. Once the three reached the bar at the far end of the room, Argus pulled out two green leather stools for the sisters. Ophelia hopped up, swiftly, as Morticia took her time climbing onto the seat. Argus made his way behind the bar.

"Christ, I'm such an idiot, I forgot to get your names!"

"I'm Ophelia, and she's Morticia." Ophelia beamed a smile at Argus as she placed her satin pink pouch on the bar.

"Last names?"

"No, they're our first names." Ophelia nodded. Argus shook his head and chuckled.

"I can't get enough of you." He smiled at Ophelia, but shifted his focus to Morticia, feeling a coldness emanating from her. "And Morticia, that's a beautiful name, very unique. Like a, like a mortician?"

"Do you need one?" Morticia's expression remained unchanged. Argus pressed his lips together and tapped his fingers on the bar.

"Soon, probably... Anyway, wine, I assume? You ladies don't look like the kind who downs shots."

"I would like to 'down a shot'," Ophelia nodded, confidently. Argus smiled.

"Any preference? Rum, vodka, tequila..."

"Tequila sounds pretty."

"Tequila it is!" Once Argus moved away to gather the drinks, Ophelia nudged Morticia.

"Why are you being so weird?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're making him uncomfortable..."

"I barely said a word."

"Exactly! He's serving us drinks, and look at this place!"

Morticia turned to observe the party. Guests dancing in elaborate costumes. People talking and laughing, and one extremely happy madam swinging from the chandelier. A thin, bald man covered in tattoos was holding a blazing torch. He stood beneath the swinging woman and bent backwards to shove the fiery torch in his mouth. Once he removed the torch, he blew a stream of fire at the swinging lady, who howled and kicked her feet at the flames. Everyone cheered and clapped. It was truly magnificent, Morticia admitted to herself, and it seemed like a wild dream she could have once had.

"Morticia, promise me you'll relax?"

Morticia nodded and Ophelia pinched her cheek. Argus returned with two large tequila shots, and a glass of red wine for Morticia.

"Here we are, cabernet sauvignon and a shot of tequila."

"Thank you, Argus," Morticia took the glass in hand. "So, you mentioned earlier that you knew Mrs. Addams?"

"Oh, yeah, she's practically my mother. I've been bestfriends with Gomez since elementary school."

"Gomez?"

"Yeah, Gomez... her son? Don't act like you don't know him." He smirked. The girls looked at each other and back at Argus. "...Gomez Addams? Are you girls even from Swamp Town?"

"Of course we are!" Ophelia defended. Argus tilted his head.

"Which part?"

"Our part." Morticia sipped from the glass and stared at Argus.

"Hm. Two beautiful locals who haven't heard of Gomez Addams... Well, I'll drink to that." He shrugged and held up his shot glass, and the girls joined. Before they could drink, a thin man with glasses and neatly combed, blonde hair ran behind the bar. He was wearing a yellow and black striped shirt with tiny carboard wings taped to his back. Ophelia brightened up at the sight of him.

"Argus! We're starting in like, ten seconds! And where's Lurch, he's supposed to man the bar!"

"Ah, shit. My apologies, ladies, but it's time for the real entertainment. Say hi to Nate." He rubbed his knuckles on the top of Nate's head and swallowed the entire tequila shot. He then quickly left the bar, leaving Nate standing in front of the two sisters. Ophelia twirled a braid in between her fingers and examined him.

"And what are you supposed to be, Nate?"

"A bee." He gulped, adjusting his foggy glasses. "The most terrifying creature known to man." He awkwardly left the bar. Ophelia watched him.

"Excuse me, dear sister, but destiny whispers in my ear to follow thy skinny man." She sipped the tequila shot, causing her to gag and shutter. She placed it back on the bar and hopped off her stool, skipping into the crowd. Morticia grew anxious.

"Ophelia, wait-" As soon as Morticia slipped off her stool, every light in the room shut off. Everyone screamed and applauded as if they knew what was happening, but Morticia stood frozen in the blackness.

"Ophelia?" she shouted. Suddenly, a single spotlight from the ceiling shone down on the middle of the floor, and guests quickly moved to clear the spot. A booming voice could be heard, as though someone were speaking into a funnel.

"Welcome, honored guests... No, it is not Satan, he never answers our invitation."

Everyone laughed and watched the empty spot in anticipation.

"We want to thank you all for attending our grand festivities on this most glorious Hallows' Eve, under a fullmoon." This was followed by another burst of cheer and applause. "This holiday wouldn't be what it is without seeing your wicked faces here every year. However... we all know who really makes this holiday what it is. And our celebration would not be complete without a visit from the queen of Halloween herself. The bane of Swamp Town. Only once a year does she come down from the mountain top, where she stews and rots, watching over Swamp Town like a hungry hawk!"

"The mountain top?" Morticia whispered to herself. She was utterly confused and growing more nervous by the second.

"Disgustingly vile, monstrous and starving! Hide your kids, everyone... It's the Witch of Willow Peak!"

Out from behind the crowd jumped a man who was completely bare except for a brown loincloth. On his head he wore a giant mask of a twisted face, with black eyes and a vicious smile with pointed teeth. A long tongue was hanging from the mouth. The mask had stringy black hair made of yarn and the man had some sort of talons on his fingers.

"Here she is, everybody! Look out, look out! Don't let her slice you into bits!"

The man ran and leaped around the circle of people, hissing and cackling in everyone's faces. The crowd screamed and cheered. Morticia watched from the bar in utter horror. The crowd began to sing in tandem what sounded like an old nursery rhyme:

Look out, the Witch of Willow Peak,
She creeps and preys upon the meek,
She'll slice you and she'll dice you,
And the town won't say a peep!

Look out, the witch of old Swamp Town,
Upon her head she wears a crown,
Of children's bones and babies' teeth,
We must strike her down!

As the man in the mask danced around to the song, the tattooed fire eater shoved another torch in his mouth, this time breathing the fire towards the dancing man. He howled and screamed and ran off into the crowd as everyone cheered. The lights in the ballroom came back on, and the overhead voice continued,

"Well done, everyone! The Witch of Willow is charred, yet again!"

Morticia watched the happy crowd cheer and laugh, carrying on with their dancing and mingling. She squeezed her fist and before she realized what she had done, every window in the ballroom shattered one after the other. The crowd gasped and ducked at each burst.

"Uh... Just stay calm, friends, it seems as though the wind picked up..."

Morticia trembled in absolute fury. An overwhelming sickness was building up inside her. She immediately turned and hurried out of the ballroom, dashing through the hallway and down the staircase. Guests tried to ask what was wrong, but she quickly hurried to the nearest exit. Once out of the house, she slammed the door shut behind her and tried to catch her breath. She had only stopped for a minute before she continued, briskly walking. Panic, fear and sadness were mixing into an unbearable typhoon. She didn't fully understand what had just happened, but she knew that whatever that display was, that's what these people thought of witches. That's what they thought of her and her beloved mother and sister, even if they didn't know they existed. She was the witch of Willow Peak.

Her mother's way of raising them suddenly began to all make sense. Her sheltered life, her mother's fear and anxiety, it all began to puzzle together in Morticia's mind. Nothing about the world had changed. She found herself coming upon a cemetery where a thick mist floated above the ground. She stopped walking once it had all became too much for her. If sweet, oblivious Ophelia had told Argus Brown that she was a witch, would the crowd have burned her alive right then and there, she thought. Sweet Ophelia, who wouldn't harm a fly? She began to cry, her face in her hands.

"Are you alright?"

A man's voice from behind Morticia made her jump. She turned, almost tripping over a headstone. The man took her hand and pulled her forward before she could lose her balance. His hand was warm and gripped hers, tightly.

"What is it, madam? Do you need help?"

Not making eye contact and slightly embarrassed, Morticia shook her head. "No, I'm... I'm alright."

"If you're alright, you have a strange way of showing it." He had a thick accent, and had yet to let go of her hand. His voice was comforting, and a calming sensation took over Morticia. Her breathing regulated and she looked down at her feet.

"It's just that thing... whatever that was in the ballroom, I..."

"Ah, yes," he chuckled and took a hanky from his breast pocket. "I never much cared for that part of the celebration, either. Hence why we're both out here." He lifted her chin to gently dab the tears on her cheeks. "I apologize that it upset you so."

Morticia didn't think of the sweet gesture as invasive as one might think if a stranger wiped their tears. Instead, she welcomed it, completely. And she realized that this is the most at ease she had felt all night. She finally looked at the man and met his eyes. Her breath hitched in her throat. He stopped, immediately.

Morticia was suddenly a child again, kneeling behind her sister's bedroom window at night, staring at the face of a young boy.