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7:23 p.m. - October 30, 2002 It's Halloween. Now that tomorrow is Halloween, and people are wearing orange and jack-o-lantern earrings or pins, and are handing out candy, I can't help but think of Halloween. I remember that when I was young, I loved it. I loved to dress up as people or things I'd never be, and just knock on doors in pursuit of candy (or popcorn balls from my neighbor--those were great). But as I got older, I started hating it. I didn't mind it so much till I was fifteen years old--I think I was fifteen. My good friend had a Halloween party on All Hallow's Eve--I don't remember dressing up--I don't think it was a costume party, but she invited a bunch of people over to her house for pizza, a "scary movie", games, and more food. Just hanging out, right? Well, someone unearthed the Ouija board. Some of us elected not to play it; those of us who chose not to play headed down to the basement to play pool. I was one of those who went downstairs--I'm a superstitious type, and having heard stories about restless spirits all my life, well, little wonder I didn't want to play...One other girl didn't play for the same reason, and three others said, "That's a stupid game. I'd rather play pool." So, for an hour or so, we drifted around the pool table, occasionally resurfacing to eat chips or pizza that was leftover. Some people trickled down from the attic after that hour, because "nothing was happening." So they hung out with us and ate food, played pool or the piano, just talking. Another hour later, everyone came to the kitchen, talking and chatting about what happened. Those of us who were in the basement asked, "So, what happened?" One of the girls, Cami, said, "Well, nothing happened for a while. Then all of a sudden, the board started talking." "What did it say? "Well, it said, 'History must not repeat itself.' So we asked it how we can stop history from repeating itself. It said, 'Children must not hate.'" Cami added, "Then it said a number." She recited the number. One of the girls, who was previously in the attic, but joined us because she was bored, exclaimed, "That's the number on my grandma's arm! She was in a concentration camp!" Well. The other superstitious girl and I just about fell apart and freaked out. We called our moms to come get us. That night, I lay in bed, my nightlight glowing in my room, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, and I was clutching an old stuffed animal as if my life depended on it. And that's the reason I hate Halloween. It's just too scary sometimes.
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