Even on Halloween, Megan is quiet.
 My fingers are cold from being outside for so long. Hours after the rest of my group went home I walked with her.
 Maybe itâs ok to not forget, but to move forward.
She was my closest friend. We shared a room until we moved into our apprenticeships and got the privileges that go with that. I remember how lonely my room felt when I first moved into my own.
 I remember getting ready to go to the Westchester house with her.
We were excited. It was famous. An urban legend in its own right.
Itâs easy for us to forget that we are the things or urban legends too.
Powerful girls speaking with spirits and communing with nature.
We were just kids when we came here.
 I remember standing in the yard, watching the house burn. Letting myself feel for Meganâs spirit. I couldnât feel it anywhere. I felt something though. At the time it made me sick to my stomach. Megan was dead. I watched her die. Her blood was on me and I was sneaking side glances at the Knight.
 But she stood there, watching the fire like it was waking something up inside of her and I wanted to know what. The Knights are chosen as children too. Trained and taught and mostly orphans with a vendetta against whatever nightmare thing hurt them.
 And Megan never did love me back.
 And now sheâs silent when she knows that in a life where we give others closure the most valuable thing in the world is a goodbye.
 And the Knight talked. Not a lot. But we talked about Halloween memories. Professional at first. Best monsters, most amusing ghosts. We compared notes.
Then about holidays in general, and about what we enjoyed doing when we arenât working.
 She loves ballet and it makes me smile to think of her with her cat grace and black hair, a perfectly trained killing machine, dancing. Most likely alone in her room.
She liked that I read. Too much, Megan had said once.
 She walked me home, stopping before getting too close to the house. Spiritualists donât tend to approve of the Knightâs methods. All muscles and blades, Karen said once and all of the elders nodded.
 âBeatrice?â Hannah asks, knocking at my door. âEverything ok? We were worried that the Witches caught back up with you.â
 âIâm actually really great.â I tell her. âHappy Halloween.â
âItâs All Saints now.â She smiles and goes back to her room.
 I know that Iâll make pumpkin pie and candy apples for All Saints. I know that the space I leave next to me at the table will be piled with as much junk food as possible. Megan had a horrible sweet tooth. I know that I need to start letting her go.
 I know that I need to talk to Tatiana again.
romaincrisis
amandla
kianamaiart
gracieabrams
