Halloween

Vivian was bored. She sat on the cushioned window seat in the dusty attic, staring out the arched window into a blood red sunset. It was Halloween, and soon her young housemates would be going to a party. Vivian would have been going with them, of course, but she wasn’t dressed for Halloween. She glanced across the attic, past criss-crossing beams of fading sunlight, toward the full length mirror at the other end of the room. Her reflection showed a fairly pretty girl with white-blonde pigtails wearing faded blue jeans, a white halter top, and tan sneakers. The only flaw in her outfit was a large, dark stain near her left shoulder that, she supposed, had been made by spilled coffee. She didn’t quite remember what had happened; it was an old shirt.
Loud voices from the floor below her drew Vivian to the attic stairs. She descended silently and peered around the corner. Jen and Greg were about to leave; they were walking, as the costume party was down the street at a friend’s house. They said a goodbye to their parents and stepped out into the pool of light cast by the streetlamp. Vivian quickly decided she needed something to do and slipped out before the door closed, padding behind the two teenagers as they traveled down the street. The sister was dressed as a dark angel, wearing a sheer black dress and a fuzzy pair of black wings. Her brother was a bit more traditional as a ghost, wearing a sheet over his head. Vivian sighed at his lack of creativity. “Honestly, Greg, couldn’t you have thought of anything more original?” she asked softly. The night was quiet, and so were the siblings, but they did not hear her. They never did. In fact, she could barely remember a time when people actually seemed to pay attention to her.
The threesome arrived at the house where the party was to be held fairly quickly. People were already milling about when they got there, and a few were organizing CDs in a corner. Vivian drifted to a slightly deserted corner of the room and sat in a chair. She watched the people around her. One, she noticed, seemed to be a zombie. He was wearing ripped black pants, and his face was covered in gray makeup, but his shirt was what attracted Vivian’s attention the most. A bright red stain spread over the gray fabric; some of the fake blood had been smeared on his arm and hands. She looked down at her own shirt and realized she remembered what the stain was. So that’s what happened. She sighed and rested her chin on her hands. I wish I could enjoy this party more, she thought sadly.
I wish I were alive.