Free Halloween Is For Lovers by Nate Gubin Page B

The gatekeeper broke from his pose and pulled on it. "Sometimes it sticks. It's the fog from the Land of the Living. All that moisture makes things rust." He sang loudly, reaching the top of his tenor range, “Aperto!”
    The gate moaned open, as if the entire Kingdom was complaining that a soul was leaving. The gatekeeper offered Hugh the way through with a grand sweep of his hand. As Hugh stepped through, the gatekeeper did his best to belt out some notes that conjured up feelings of both anticipation and worry for what lay beyond.
    At sundown on Halloween, Hugh had crossed into the fog that separated the living from the dead.
    As the gatekeeper’s song trailed off in the distance, Hugh wandered between worlds, not sure which way to go.
    He began to jog but suddenly stopped. Searching in the soupy fog, he changed directions and stumbled forward. Panic came over him. Was he lost, running in circles? "Hey! Is anybody out there?" His jog speeded into a run, but still there was nothing but endless white. He worried over too much wasted time. Is this a joke, a scam? Will I spend the entire night lost in the fog?
    Hearing something, he stopped. Off in the distance was the faint melody of birds singing the day’s last song. He ran toward it and the fog got lighter, thinner. He saw a tiny sliver of golden glow on the horizon ahead of him. The sun. He could smell the air, the moisture of life touching his skin.
    He stopped and caught just a wink of the sun before it ducked down for good. There was a tear in his eye as he whimpered, "I missed you."
    Realizing he needed to change into his warm-up suit, he quickly unbundled it and slid into its slippery electric white-and-green shimmer. The presence of something massive sneaking up behind him startled him, and he quickly turned.
    The full moon of Halloween had climbed out of its cave. Shining down, it began its relentless pursuit of him.
    He stumbled out of the fog and into a tangle of dead branches, burrs and thickets. Tripping and stumbling in the dark mess, he fell and then scrambled to his knees, where he discovered himself face-to-face with his own gravestone.
    It wasn't his monument alone. It was a combined gravestone for all the casualties in the horrific highway accident. Six feet below his trembling knees, the last of his earthly presence was sunk along with that of about a dozen "circus artists." A single casket, more of an industrial tub, was heaped full of a mix of body tissues recovered from the crash site, basically everything that wasn't bus or car.
    The stone was parted down the middle. On the left-hand side was the list of the dead whose biologically irregular appearance had afforded them a life of entertaining in towns across the country. A lovable bunch, their names were carved into stone along with the loved ones they had left behind.
    Rudy Hernandez, Husband, Father, Midget Dog Boy. Rudy's beloved wife, Cecilia, Wife, Mother, Voluptuous Latin Dwarf. She performed burlesque under the stage name Micro Mamacita. Survived by eight children, all of average stature with no inherent freak qualities.
    Ivan Von Himmel, Husband, Father, Human Skyscraper. Seven feet tall, he made extra money in the off-season washing windows, changing lightbulbs and cleaning gutters without the encumbrance of a ladder. Left living were his wife and twin sons, both of average stature. Klaus, the youngest, had one thigh bigger than the other, but it was decided at an early age it wasn't enough to qualify him as a freak. Klaus thought his single thunder thigh was special, though, and he used it to scare the kids with normal-sized legs into believing he had the power to kick them into the next county. After college, his mother helped him channel his passion for scare-mongering into a career selling life insurance.
    Two-Ton Tanya, Sister, Lover. She was the requisite fat lady of the troupe but she always had trouble keeping the weight on. It was a lifelong battle to resist her cravings for