All Hallows' Love

All Hallows’ Love

         It was five minutes after midnight, All Hallows’ Eve or Halloween as we call it. It is the time of year when children dress as ghouls, ghosts and alike to scare up treats from their neighbors.
         I had long had my deluge of trick-or-treaters, some whom were grandchildren of the first trick-or-treaters that I had years ago.
         I got up and walked out upon my balcony. The fall wind wasn’t heavy like the first time we met. It was very light, like a whisper kiss that slightly chilled my bones.
         The moon peeked out from behind the clouds. It was as it always was when it was time for your visit. Oh, how would I love for you to be able to stay with me or I leave with you. The time part, 364 days a year, just hurts my heart.
         Over the years, I have seen lovers come and go without a word. Friends that became closer disappeared without mention. Acquaintances were just that, acquaintances; cordial yet not close. But no one has ever touched me or was more constant in my life more than Jordi.
         Jordi came to me at a time when I was very low. I had nothing to look forward to. I didn’t know where he came from and didn’t care. He showed me true kindness and compassion that over the years blossomed into love.
         It was the kind that everyone deserves to have for a lifetime and thereafter; lo, it rarely happens that true souls meet. Leaning on the banister, I remembered the night that he came to me.
         It was a minute past midnight, Halloween 1958. My tears had virtually soaked my shirt as I sat squirreled in the wingback chair near the fireplace in my bedroom. Billie Holiday’s “God Bless The Child” radiated the room giving comfort to my loneliness.
         My sadness was about many things. I was the last of my family. The love of my life had gone to another. There would not be offspring to extend the family tradition or name. All I had was myself. The hurt seemed more than I could bare.
         “What is the matter? Why should you cry like that? There is nothing to cry over?” the voice said.
         I knew that the door had not been opened because if it had, I would have heard a slight creak when opened. Even though I was in pain, crying for hours, I would have remembered going downstairs to let someone in, not to mention upstairs. The old Victorian house was locked tight.
         I looked up from my right side while in fetal position to see whom was talking. There I spied a figure clad in black and blue standing adjacent to me. The more I focused the more his form went from spectral to solid. For some reason I wasn’t scared. I just felt safe.
         Again he spoke, asking why I was crying. His voice was deep, but with an English lilt.
         “I-I-I…,” I managed to get out.
         “Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you. I was just venturing through. To cry like that for so long disturbed me. I just couldn’t see what would make one as you cry so much for so long,” he said.
         “I, uh, I’m alone. All alone,” I said through the sniffles.
         “There is nothing wrong with being alone. I’m alone and you don’t see me sad and crying,” he answered. His brown eyes livened with the flicker of the flames. They seemed to be dancing. “Now do you?” he continued.
         “N-n-no,” I mustered a response stuttering.
         “Dry those tears,” he said. He walked over to me and kneeled. He took out a handkerchief and started dotting my tears away. “Everything will be alright. Don’t worry,” he said.
         I had finally gotten my bearings. I knew I wasn’t dreaming because I hadn’t been asleep. It was real. I didn’t seize up with fear. I guess it was the curiosity of “things that go bump in the night” part of me that kept me on point.
         “I-I-If you don’t mind me asking a question?” I said.
         “Yes,” he said as he blinked.
         “Just whom are you and how did you get into my house; my bedroom at that?” I continued.
         “Do you really want to know?” he asked raising his eyebrows.
         “You think? I just want to hear you say it because I know I’m not crazy. Out there a bit mind you, but not crazy,” I said through the sniffles that were lessening. My eyes glared at him with the question.
         “It is after midnight, Halloween. If you remember your Halloween lore, for the next 24 hours, on this date, some believe that the walls between worlds thin bringing about a macabre of the unexplained. Just say, I am one of those unexplained. By the way, my name is Jordi,” he said.
         “Jordi? What kind of name is that for, well, a ghost, if I am correct on that assumption?” I asked.
         “What kind of name is Arabella for, well, a human?” he asked. He went to the adjacent chair and pushed it closer toward me and the fire before he sat down. He put his hands close to the heat before rubbing them together.
         “This feels nice warm. I hadn’t been by a nice fire in awhile,” he said.
         I looked at him with a dumbfound look upon my face in disbelief. Jordi turned to me while he sat back into his chair.
         “What?” he asked.
         “You’re a spook,” I said.
         “We don’t like that term. One could say spectre or ghost,” he answered.
         “Oh, I didn’t know. I’ll make sure the locals know,” I said with a sneer.
         “You’re a feisty creature, aren’t you? What did I do to deserve that?” he queried.
         “Sorry. I’m just…so tired of being me,” I said.
         “Why? I see nothing wrong with your life. You have a lovely home, a job as a much as it is and you’re living. You can enjoy the sweetness of chocolate, the hit of mint and the taste of coffee anytime. I can only indulge in the earthly delights once a year, for 24 hours,” he explained.
         “What happens after then?” I asked.
         “I return to the ghostly realm waiting for the next All Hallows’ Eve,” he answered.
         “I guess it gets lonely just floating around,” I said.
         “No, you don’t understand. The ghostly realm is a lot like this one. My house is very much like this one,” he explained.
         “Really?” I asked.
         “Really,” he replied with a smile.
         Billie kept playing in the background. Jordi sighed.
         “I always loved her singing. By the way, if you don’t mind, I’m famished and I could use a spot of tea. The Earl Grey is very intoxicating,” said Jordi.
         “Be my guest,” I said hunching my shoulders. What else was I to say? He was a ghost.
         “I’ll be back in a few,” he said. He faded out to nothingness while in the chair. All I could manage to mutter was, “Damn.”
         I sat there a long while before getting my nerve up to go downstairs. I figured I’d go down and find the kitchen as I had left it, clean and spotless, plus no Jordi. The waking dream I was having would be over and I could go back to my easy chair and try to make sense of life. But it didn’t go that way.
         The woodstove were going full throttle. Pots were on the stove with spoons in them stirring the contents were moving rhythmically. A knife was on the counter cutting potatoes while a wad of dough was finishing kneading itself. The pastry cutter miraculously started cutting out bread after the rolling pin finished. I looked over in the corner on the stool and found Jordi reading the evening paper.
         “Ah, I was hoping you would join me. The lighting down here in the kitchen is so much more delightful. Besides a lady’s boudoir is no place for a gentleman,” said Jordi.
         “I guess the waking dream theory is a bust. You are real,” I said.
         “Yes I am Ms. Arabella. Real as real can get,” said Jordi.
         I walked over to the table to sit. Before I could do so, he was there holding out the chair for me. His hand touched me as I sat. He was real alright. He took the seat opposite me and looked into my eyes. He took my hand in his. It was warm to my surprise. The pots were still going full speed as they were when I first walked in. I looked back at him.
         “You must have a lot concentration to keep all of that up, read the paper and now talking to me. I‘ve read in various stories that ghosts had some powers, but nothing like this,” I said.
         “Not as much as you think. Need I remind you that this is All Hallows.’ Any and everything is possible. Just have an open mind,” he said.
         Just then my tea cup from my bedroom appeared along with my teapot. Steam was pouring out of it.
         “Let me freshen your tea,” said Jordi as he poured some of the new batch that had been steeped into my cup and his.
         The door of the cupboard above the sink opened. Out floated a jar of honey that I kept on hand.
It safely landed on the table beside the teapot that was seated on a plate. He spooned some honey into his cup, stirred and took a sip.
         “Mmm, this is good. I always liked honey with my tea. Have you ever tried it?” he asked.
         I looked at him with my arms folded and looked at him. He was really handsome. His flawless brown skin looked like one could wipe the sweetness from it. His eyes still danced in the low-light of the kitchen. He picked up the newspaper and continued to read.
         “My have things changed. I didn’t think I’d see someone like me mentioned in a periodical or newspaper as you call them and for something good. Space race. They’re actually talking about traveling to the moon. Amazing,” said Jordi. “Wonderful. The food is finally ready,” he continued.
         At that time, two plates and cutlery arrived and landed before us. The two pots that were being stirred came over and put generous portions of beef and potatoes into our plates. The biscuits that were now baked weren’t far behind. He said a silent prayer and started digging in.
         “You said that spectres, ghosts or whatever live in a community and that you have a house. If that is so, didn’t you eat dinner earlier before you decided to pay me a visit?” I asked.
         He nearly choked, but a hearty laugh sprang from his lips before speaking.
         “Arabella, you’re a sight, but quite right. I sort of skipped dinner in my anticipation of being able to visit here,” he finally said.
         “What’s with the eating of my food?” I asked before digging myself. My little feeling sorry session had left me quite hungry.
         “Let me explain. We have the same things in our world, 364 days a year. But for some reason, unbeknown, that on All Hallows’ we can visit humanity. As for eating your food, the taste much more flavorful,” said Jordi.
         “So this is your get out of jail free card?” I answered. “If you don’t mind, what did you do to this meat? It is very good,” I continued.
         “I used some of the herbs in your cupboard that you don’t. A little thyme, a little basil, a touch of cumin and ginger. Don’t forget the salt and pepper,” explained Jordi. “And yes I guess you could say today is a free day for us,” he continued.
         “Can you float objects and disappear in your other life? I mean it isn’t exactly normal here,” I stated.
         “Yes, I can levitate and do as I just did the meal, just basic stuff as a ghost,” he explained.
         “Since you have a house, I suppose you have a job. I mean living in Ghost World can’t be free, isn’t?” I said.
         Laughing, Jordi answered, “Ghost World? What an imagination. No. The town I live in is called Chronos 1, the capitol of Metre. I do the same work as you, research, but around books. I am master librarian. I make a pretty fair living.”
         “Uh, no wife, kids, girlfriend or can you have kids?” I asked.
         “I am alone as most are that come to Chronos 1. Chronos 1 is seen as second chance to those who tried to live a good life free of trouble, but were wronged in some way. For the past 235 years, I’ve lived there since my human life was taken from me,” said Jordi.
         We both were finished eating so we retired to the living room where the fire was roaring. I was surprised to find the remnants of the chocolate pie from the refrigerator awaiting us.
         “What the…?” I asked.
         “I’ve been here for over three hours and you finally say that? Amazing,” said Jordi.
         We both sat down on sofa. Two small plates and a knife appeared and cut the pie into two slices. The pie platter and the knife then miraculously disappeared. It was replaced by that teapot full of Earl Grey and our teacups.
         “Let me get this now. Your name is Jordi. You’re 235 years old. You’re dead, yet alive and you’re a ghost,” I said between bites.
         “Yes Ms. Arabella. I‘m actually 260 years old. I was 25 at the time of my death,” he answered.
         “The question remains why did you come to me? I’m nobody, unimportant,” I replied. I dropped my head and looked into the darkness of my cup of tea that I had in my hand. I sat it down.
         Jordi put his plate down, turned to me and took me by my shoulders and said, “I don’t ever want you to speak of yourself in that way aloud or silently again. People may have wronged you making you feel less than nothing for whatever their petty reasons. But get this, you matter. You are wanted and needed in this world, if only to give another a kind smile. It might not feel like it now, but one day the purpose that you’re missing will be there. You are worthy. Never doubt that.”
         “I-I-I won’t. For you, I won’t,” I said. For some reason as he spoke those words I knew everything was going to be alright. My soul did feel as empty. It was as if the doors had been flung open and someone said ‘go.’ I felt free, finally.
         I hugged him. He felt so warm, much like the warmth that I just felt. We stayed conjoined in each other arms for what seemed the longest. We became one in the soul sense. I saw his human life.
         His father was a powerful English adventurer and magi whom was of noble birth. On one of his pilgrimages to further study magicks and mysticism, he met and married a beautiful Moor princess. They were both held in high regard in his province upon his return.
         He was born shortly after and was given the best education in various subjects as well as carrying on his father’s legacy of magicks and mysticism. His mother died shortly after his 15th birthday followed by his dad 10 years later.
         Everything was fine at first. People respected his rule, voice and sword despite his dark hue. But it didn’t last.
         Two bad winters caused the crops to fail followed by plague. People panicked. Rumors spread that it was his presence, mostly notably his color that angered the heavens that caused the blight. His father’s friends soon turned on him leading to no only his lands and title stripped, but his demise.
         The funny thing was that he wasn’t like most royals. He was sharing his wealth, nearly emptying his coffers to help the people, yet it wasn’t enough. He found himself under and executioner’s axe anyway.
         Before the axe fell, he stated that he forgave them because he knew that it really wasn’t them but their fear.
         The heavens must have been looking out for him. He found himself awake in a hospital given a chance to live yet again.
         I pulled away from him at that moment and looked at him. Tears started rolling down my face. I couldn’t contain them. He was lonely. I could feel it. The pain and despair just was so deep. But there was also something else. There was faith.
         He reached up and took a finger and wiped away my tears.
         “Now what did I tell you about crying? We’ve met, became friends, shared a meal and some wisdom and now you’ve went and back slid, forgetting the lessons learned,” he said.
         “These tears aren’t for me. They’re for you,” I said.
         “For me? Why?” asked Jordi.
         “Your life. You did nothing but help your people. You were good, better than good; more so than most noblemen of that time I’ve read about. But when their problems persisted, despite magicks, ointments, prayers, rituals, etc., they thanked you with a generous beheading. Just cruel,” I explained.
         “Arabella, it was not them. They weren’t themselves. It wasn’t their true soul. Fear and confusion had infected them. Their goodness had been buried so deep that they had forgotten that we were family. All they could see was an outsider, so their troubles were my fault,” he explained.
         “You’re a kind soul. I don’t see how you forgive that easily,” I said.
         “It is easy. The heavens are watching. They need to see some good in humanity,” said Jordi. “Besides it doesn’t do any good to poison ourselves with hate, division and vengeance. It makes us weaker. Not stronger,” he continued.
         “I don’t think I’m worthy to be in your company. I don’t have the fortitude to be forgiving. The hurt is so deep that despite my best efforts at times, I flashback in hopes of striking out at the perpetrators,” I explained.
         Jordi was quiet for a moment. He just sat there looking at the fire before he spoke again.
         “Arabella, let it go. Let it all go,” he said.
         “What?” I asked dumfounded.
         “Just let it go. The worries, the hate, the pain, the anger, the hopelessness and the despair. Let it all go. Have faith that everyone isn’t like those that have wronged you,” said Jordi.
         “How do I go about doing so? Most of the pain is of my looks. I didn’t have any control over my hue or lineage. I just wanted a fair shake, something that wasn’t given to me,” I said.
         He took my hand and led to me to the floor in front of the fire where we both sat. He instructed me to look into the fire and focus on it and to close my eyes after awhile.
         “Take a step back now and look at your life. You’re in a far better shape than most people like us at this point in time. You have a home with plenty of food on the table. That there within itself would be a blessing for us, but you have more, something that is priceless to many people like us, education. despite the setbacks and inequality. Cleaning up the university laboratory is a far cry from being a chemist, but it is a job,” said Jordi. “But just wait. Your time will come. If not now, later,” he continued.
         I think back on that night. Jordi was right. Everyone has their turn. It was two years later when I became an assistant in the very laboratory that had been cleaning up. It was considered a coup to be the first woman and non-white in that capacity. Patience and faith had won out.

         I awoke on the couch the next morning. Again I thought that I had dreamt the wonderful night that I had had - until I looked out the window.
         In my grogginess and saw Jordi taking a break from cutting wood soaking up the sun. I just shook my head and went upstairs for a quick bath. When I returned downstairs, Jordi met me coming through the door.
         “Good morning. And no I’m not a dream or a figment. And no you’re not pixilated,” he asked. He stood there with a smile on his face with a bundle of wood in his arms. He was handsome. Just downright gorgeous. With that revelation the question ‘why me’ really nagged at my gut. He was just too good looking to be hanging around me.
         “Yes, I did until I saw you drinking in the sun. Doesn’t the sun shine in your world?” I inquired.
         “Yes it does. But it doesn’t seem as warm. Bright yes, warm no,” he explained while filling the wood box by the fireplace. “I took the liberty of preparing breakfast. I know you have a penchant for omelets,” he continued.
         That perked me up. I turned on a dime and went to the kitchen where I found a feast awaiting me.
         Jordi came in after I had seated myself and started to take a bite, not bothering to open the door. Just walking on through.
         “You know walking through doors like that is a bit disconcerting to us mortals, Sir Lucious al-Hasan Jordan-William,” I said. “My that’s a mouthful,” I continued.
         “Sorry, just being me,” he said as he sat down. “By the way, don’t call me Lucious. I hate it, Arabella Elizabeth Moore,” he continued. He waved his hand and a plate floated and landed in front followed by a couple of the waffles he had made. Another wave and the syrup and butter topped them. The coffee did the same thing, too.
         “Thank you for filling up the wood box and for the two delicious meals,” I said.
         “No. Thank you for having an open mind. Most folk would have shrieked with terror at the sight of me,” said Jordi.
         “Uh, as you said, I’m not most people,” I answered.
         “True. But I did have my doubts I must admit. You’re a hard one to read,” he said.
         “You have to have an open mind after reading Brahm Stoker’s ‘Dracula,’ Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein or anything of Edgar Allan Poe’s,” I answered. “Those works spark possibilities. If they don’t, I don’t know what will,” I continued.
         “Point taken. They all knew how to put a fright in one‘s bones and a thought in one‘s mind that asked the question of ‘what if,’” said Jordi.
         We ate in silence. But I could sense his presence in my mind. I smiled.
         “What are you searching for up here?” I asked pointing to my head.
         “Oh nothing. Just wondering how someone as fantastic as you could be with so few friends,” said Jordi.
         “That I couldn’t tell you. I have put myself out there, but it never works out. It is like they figure out that my life is kind of boring, too much for them and they move on,” I explained.
         “Maybe they sense that you’re too fearful to give more of yourself; like you’re holding something back. The word is ‘scared;’ scared of the world, the future which is why you carefully plan each thing even down to what plate to use because you feel or sense that your future, the good part without the pain, hinges on the right choices that you make,” explained Jordi.
         “You got all of that?” I asked.
         “Yes and also I’ve been looking in on you over the years. You still have a slight scar from falling down on the rock by the pond at Mrs. Weather’s when you were eight,” said Jordi.
         “Damn peeping tom ghost. But instead of windows, he uses crystal balls. Just damn,” I said.
         “You make me sound so, so creepy,” said Jordi.
         “Well, yeah. You’re a dead peeping tom, duh,” I answered.
         “I saw you on Halloween one night. You were dressed up pretty much like a princess walking around town with your grandmother, Frances. You were really cute. As a matter of fact you looked right at me while I passed by. I winked at you. You smiled back at me,” said Jordi.
         “I did?” I queried.
         “Yes. There was something about your spirit that intrigued me. So I looked in on you from time to time. Your sweetness and well-meaning gestures reminded me of my mother,” said Jordi.
         “Given her grace and beauty that I glimpsed through holding you, I don’t think I’m worthy to be counted in her company,” I answered. His mentioning me in the same breath of his mother made me feel uncomfortable.
         “Thank you. But you are,” said Jordi. He took my hand and kissed it. The warmth of his hand comforted me.
         I looked out the window. “How much time do you have before you have to leave? I mean it is very nice out and we could use a walk,” I said.
         “When midnight comes, I have to leave. Until then, I’m just like you except for a few tricks,” said Jordi. He waved his hand and the plates were whisked to the sink and washed. “I’d love to go for a walk,” he continued grabbing my hand and helping me up.
         I grabbed my coat and headed outside. It wasn’t very cold, just a cool freshness. We didn’t notice, but we found ourselves in town. Jordi was full of amazement.
         “Each Halloween I always find some marvel that interests me. The horseless carriages or cars are awesome. I could see myself having one. The car, called a Thunderbird is one with a lot of charm that grabs me,” said Jordi.
         We ended the day walking back through the door at 6 p.m.
         “I guess it is my turn to cook,” said Arabella hanging up her coat.
         “I don’t think so. It is taken care of,” said Jordi.
         I walked into the dining room and a fully prepared meal was waiting. The smell of the ham was intoxicating.
         “H-how did you do this? You were with me this afternoon,” I asked.
         “I cast a little spell before we left,” he said copping a wicked wink and emphasizing little with his forefinger and thumb.
         After excusing myself for a few minutes, I returned and joined him at the table. The food, much like the last two meals, was fantastic. We retired back into the living room while the dishes were washing themselves to some very aromatic pumpkin pie.
         “Jordi, the food. Where did it come from? I didn’t have it all here,” I asked.
         “I went shopping before you awoke. My marketing experience was what I expected given the ugliness that permeates the world at this time. But time will improve the situation,” he answered.
         “I won’t believe it until I see it,” I said taking a sip of tea.
         “Faith, Arabella, faith,” said Jordi.
         “Okay, Jordi,” I relented. “Jordi, I don’t want you to leave me. You make me feel alive. I have really enjoyed your company. Will you come back to visit?” I continued.
         “Of course. I will check in on you from time to time until next Hallows Eve when I shall return,” said Jordi.
         With that, we hugged, melding together once more. I saw his home which was much more elegant than this old Victorian. It was very elegant and well-kempt. I looked up and saw the sun there. It looked alive but yet different. If one looked at it straight one would swear that something was orbiting it every so often, like a clear orb with another coming taking a turn from the opposite direction. It was beautiful in the contrast to the sun.
         The library where he worked was huge. It was a far cry from the libraries that I had visited during my school days and the one at the university where I work at now. Before I could get comfortable in his remembrances, the scene shifted.
         I was still in my living room, however, it looked to be a blue smoke-like void. It was peaceful, full of warmth and love. I felt love. Not the romantic type, but the kind that made me feel that that I mattered.
         “My sweet Arabella, I have to go now. I want you to be good and think good thoughts,” said Jordi.
         “No, don’t go,” I said.
         “I have to,” he said lifting me up.
         I dropped my head as we moved to the French doors off to the side of the living room.
         “A year sounds so far away,” I responded as disappointment dripped from my words.
         He took my hand and kissed it fondly. “Not so much. It could be today, tomorrow or yesterday. But I’ll be back. Trust that,” said Jordi.
         As he stepped backwards out on the porch, a thick fog engulfed him and then he was gone. The scene put me at ease causing sleep to take over.
         When I awoke, I was in bed covered up. I was completely dumbfounded at how I got there because I knew that all I had done was hug Jordi. I was thinking of it being one bizarre 24 hour period of losing my mind until I spied a note, a rose and a trinket.

         “Dearest Arabella, Don’t be upset about my exit. I couldn’t bear to leave you like I entered. It was too much for one such as you to comprehend. So I used a dreamscape spell. I wish you luck and happiness.
         I took the liberty of leaving you a part of me. Pick it up and think of me when you become discouraged and remember that I’m always with you. Be good and be safe, Jordi.”

         I picked up the trinket. It was more than a trinket, but a necklace with a single tear drop diamond as big as a quarter on the end of it.
         Grabbing hold of it, I could feel the warmth and friendship riveting through my body from him. I knew I would never be alone.

         Sixty years later, the feeling never has changed. It just kept growing over the years.
         “He’s late. I guess he’s being curious somewhere. I think I‘m going to lie down. I feel a little tired. Jordi will wake me when he comes with a kiss,” I said to myself.
         I went over to the bed, got in and pulled the freshly washed white spread up around me and closed my eyes. I soon went to sleep. But it was different. It was deeper but pleasant. No worries invaded my dreams. It was as though I was finished.
         When I awoke, I heard my name being called out. At first I couldn’t see anything but the darkness in what was my room. Then I saw Jordi reaching out his hand to me.
         I reached forward and grabbed his hand. He pulled me toward him, embracing me.
         When I parted from him I realized that I was my 25 year-old self, the one that Jordi first met.
         “Hello. You‘re late,” I said.
         “Yes, I know,” said Jordi smiling.
         Turning toward the bed, I found my older self there. She was lifeless, yet smiling. I realized that I had had a happy fulfilling life.
         Not afraid, I went over and kissed her head shedding tears.
         “What is with the tears?” asked Jordi coming over to comfort her.
         Smiling, I turned and said, “Nothing. These are tears of joy.” “I’ve endured and had a wonderful life thanks to you. Now I embark on another because of faith,” I explained.
         He kneeled down and locked his hands with hers kissing them ever so softly.
         “Sorry that I was late. I was engaged,” said Jordi.
         “Engaged? In what?” I asked with a raised left eyebrow.
         “Securing that The Fates reward us. We can have what has eluded us,” said Jordi.
         “What?” I asked.
         “Togetherness,” said Jordi.
         “I guess it is time to embark on that,” I said kissing him softly.
         He didn’t say a thing, only reciprocated the action as we both faded away, in love on All Hallows’ Eve.

©Copyright lynjs October 2008