JMJ
You know what holiday I love most? Halloween. It is a time where the masks are pulled out and everyone can hide their souls for a night. There are the devil masks covering up the angels', scream masks hiding the laughing faces. Everything is hidden. People can be whoever they want to be and no one is the same.
I go as a girl who got mauled by a car. My face and chest are covered in blood, my side gashed open with insides and fluids oozing out. People quail at the sight of me, I am so realistic. I almost laugh when I see their fear and disgust.
The only difference between me and you is that I am not wearing any makeup and wearing no costume or mask.
My name is Semele, yet most people called me Semi. And tonight is my night, my time to seek those who seek me. No one can see me on other days, even though I am always here, and I don't know why. If the hauntings of a life once lived, then maybe I can just end. Not die, just end. There is no such thing as "going on", as most people want to believe. Its just the end. Nothing exists after someone ends. Nothing. Not darkness, not fire, just nothing.
It's hard to believe, I know. You want to know that there is something better after you die. Maybe your ideal is a type of "heaven" or "hell"; but there is no such thing. You don't want to believe me, I can see it in your eyes. You want to hold on to that fantasy that you find dear. You will find out. Eventually.
It is still light out, the sun dipping halfway down the horizon, giving the sky red, purple and orange streaks and patches. This is my favorite time of day, when all the colors meld into one beautiful masterpiece. Before the crash, I used to attempt to paint the sunset, yet I never could quite get the colors right.
As the sun finally sets completely, the kids (and some not as young) start their entrepreneurs for the sweets they love so much. For the sake of not being suspicious, I join in; but I don't go to anyone's door anymore. Last time I did, my old friend Ashley answered. She became all scared and slammed the door in my face. After all, I am not supposed to exist anymore.
Imagine, what if someone who you thought was dead came to your door one day (or night in this case)? Yea, that's what I thought. You would slam the door and lean against it, panting and trying to convince you that he/she just looked like the dead. Yet you cannot fathom the pain that it brings me; to see someone who probably longs the most to see you again, yet slams the door in your face. All I want is to end, is that asking too much?