A Larger Zombie

The saddest Halloween story.

One of those things I wanted so much in my childhood was… Halloween. It’s just not in the list of Russian holidays!
No chance to dress as a creepy creeper and do crazy things having an excuse.
No chance to ask for sweets and be allowed to perform whatever I like.
No chance to visit people who wait for creepers.
No chance to have fun and forget who “you are” for a while and become a zombie…
It feels like I missed something once I watch American movies where kids enjoy Halloween.

But still, each time this day comes I feel like doing something crazy and special. Sometimes people do theme parties here but none of them feel right to me.

For example, there was a Halloween party in my school when I was 12. It was the first and the last one, as far as I know. And I was looking forward to it so much. Ohhh… I couldn’t even sleep. I believed it would be one of the best artistic and fun days in my life.
I designed my black evil cloak with its edges torn (so the wind would flap it even more “evilly”). Then it took me a day of hard work to draw a happy smiling skeleton on its back. I drew each bone in detail so it would look realistic. So it did.
The last part was my hair and face. I made a few dozens of small braids that were supposed to be snakes coming out of my head (buahhahah). And black paint on my face: around my eyes and mouth – that made me look like a bat. An evil bat in a happy skeleton cloak with baby-snakes coming out of her head…

I was brought to school at 6pm and then I chose to be someone else. Someone new and crazy. Probably, someone, who wouldn’t be recognized!

They promised a party and a dressing contest days before. Some prizes too.

I opened the doors and…

Everyone was dressed the usual wayaaaah!!

It looked like a typical day at school excerpt it was evening time. I thought that may be they had their stuff to change later to be ready for the contest.
But nothing was changing, except music played once, there were a few games… not much fun.
And my classmates were all like: “WHAT the hell are you?!”.
At least, my madness was justified by the “party”.
I said I was “that thing with snakes on her head”.

…That’s why Halloween isn’t really here.