Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sun was shining warmly on your face, its golden rays caressing your cheek like a lover. A lover. You furrowed your brows, eyes closed, daylight reaching you through a crack in your bedroom curtains. It had been three months since you had left your ex, or rather he left you, for some slut that he had met at a drunken frat party during his first semester at university. When he first told you that he had been awarded a scholarship to an Ivy League school you were ecstatic for him, this was his chance, his opportunity to get out of your nothing town and follow his dreams. He said that nothing would ever come between the two of you. All of those nights together underneath the streetlights, sneaking out to go joyriding in his car, the feeling of the wind in your hair, the world at your feet. The whole universe seemed laid out before the two of you beneath the Midwestern stars, you reached out your hands to the skies above you, nothing could take him away. You were high school sweethearts, each other's first love, Together forever... So much for forever.

What you needed was a change of scenery, at least that's what Emily said, your childhood best friend, and Emily 'always knew best'. At least that was her motto since middle school, this especially applied to your love life, which she was abundantly involved in. It was no time before she was trying to sell you on a trip, a 'rebound' trip, if you will. One for you to get back out there, drown your sorrows in the arms of a new man, or at least the bottom of a cheep bottle of booze.

And what do you know, she had just the place! New Orleans. Halloween. 'Need I say more?' She chirped over the phone while trying to convince you tag along. As it turns out she had met a few new friends in community college while you were stuck working as a checkout-girl at the local Albertsons Grocery. They had overbooked on their Air B&B and needed another warm body to afford their stay. 'Just chip in a hundred bucks, you won't regret it...' Emily begged.

Fuck, you were such a pushover. Literally the last thing you wanted was some road trip to the swampy Deep South.

If you were to be honest with yourself the only thing you wanted right now was to close yourself up in your childhood bedroom and rot. Nothing but true crime YouTube channels on autoplay while you binged on hot pockets and ice cream. Fuck it. Your figure didn't matter anymore, nothing mattered.

But like the dutiful friend, it was all 'yes Emily’, and ‘you're right Emily, of course I can...' You hated hearing those words fall from your lips, you hated every single syllable. What else were you meant to do? You had appearances to keep, and the last thing you wanted was for people to pity you. Something about that thought made your stomach churn. So you threw a few outfits into a duffle bag, loaded your phone with your Electro Swing playlist, plus a few audiobooks for good measure, and waited on your 'best friend' to come pick you up. Your mother had packed you a sack lunch, much to your chagrin.

'They'll never see me as an adult.' You think ruefully as you wait by the curb, your chin resting on your palms, knees tucked to your chest. For a moment you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes, but you pinch the bridge of your nose and wait for it to pass. Here were your friends, moving on with their lives after high school, moving out, starting new relationships, some that would be lifelong...and here you were, a shut-in still living with your parents.

'No wonder he left me.' You think before your thoughts are cut off by the sound of a car approaching. You lift your head up, looking towards the direction of the sound with a disinterested gaze.

As the car pulls up Emily grins to you from the driver's seat, beside her and directly behind her are two girls who you don't recognize, you force a smile and wave. Emily bounces out of the car and runs over to you, giving you a big hug that seemed to say 'sorry for making you come, but not sorry lol'. You hug her back gently, smelling the cheap perfume that wafted off of her, some fruity thing undoubtedly purchased from the local Target. Emily was a Target girl, the kind with gold accented beige decor and pine scented candles, the kind who liked to have a bookshelf full of authors like T. S. Eliot, but never got around to reading them. You briefly recalled when you had to basically write her final essay over The Great Gatsby back in grade nine. Your introduction to Eliot, Swing music, the Roaring 20s... It had been an obsession ever since, though you knew how to hide your power level, everyone thought you were autistic enough. Even still, your costume had been the same every Halloween since, a form fitting black flapper dress, complete with jeweled headband and pearls. Now it was thrown haphazardly in the duffle bag soon to grace Emily's trunk space. Emily took your hand and and led you to the passenger side window, motioning to the girl in the front.

"This is Gracie..." The titular 'Gracie' gave you a friendly wave. "And this is Jennifer..." Emily pointed to the girl in the back, just behind the passenger seat. Jennifer gave you a nod, a bit less friendly. She was probably a Target girl, you mused. Unfortunately for you, you'd be stuck sitting across from, and directly behind two complete strangers, who where probably staring at your Yolanda Be Cool t-shirt with disdain at this very moment. You swallow your pride and introduce yourself the best way you can.

"Yes, yes...Em and I have known each other since kindergarten, yeah..." You try to maintain eye contact as you answer their questions, but it's difficult. Emily tosses your bag into the trunk and opens the back passenger door for you. You squeeze in, crossing your legs. You feel like it makes you look like some sort of prim and proper snooty thing, but in reality you just want to minimize the risk of invading these girls' personal space. You feel like an idiot for having been talked into this, here you are feeling like an invasive weed surrounded by wildflowers in full bloom. These girls were beautiful, they were practically glowing with life, vigor... They had boyfriends too, you were sure. You shook your head as if trying to dislodge a thought.

"You ready?" Emily's voice cut through the haze of your thoughts like a warm knife through butter.

"Huh? Oh...yeah, yeah." You mumbled before staring out the window.

"Look alive," Emily grinned. "This is going to be just what you need..." She trailed off as she turned over the ignition.

'Yeah, just what I need...' You thought mournfully, 'a weekend in the party capital of the South, surrounded by drunk university students dressed up like Voodoo witch doctors, pissing in the street. Exactly what I need.' You press your forehead to the glass watching the passing corn fields, the world flying by, just like your life, your youth. You grimaced. 'It's just a couple of nights...,' you reassure yourself. 'You can get through, you always do, and when you get back you can rightly tell everyone to fuck off.'

A few hours in and you felt your eyes growing heavy, you excused yourself from the small talk that was beginning to become awkward, as it was becoming painfully obvious that your presence wasn't wanted so much as it was needed to secure their room. Emily had great chemistry with them, you were happy for her, you never found it in yourself to be mad at anyone.

'That's why you're such a pushover.' That little voice inside of your head whispered. 'You'll never find anyone who would ever want someone like you...' You pull your headphones over your ears and start to drift off, hoping that a few hours would pass before you woke up. You let yourself get lost in the sounds of the Big Band before drifting off into that comforting oblivion.

***

Your mind was adrift somewhere, you felt stuck swimming in the memories of your past relationship, treading uneasy waters like a castaway with no land in sight. You kept scrutinizing yourself, analyzing. What was it that made him leave you? Was it the fact that you rarely put out?

'Yeah, that was probably it...' You mused. Truth be told you felt uneasy being touched, it wasn't that you had experienced any sort of trauma to result in a negative association with intimacy, you just never quite felt comfortable in your own skin...let alone having someone else 'inside' of it. You wanted to be able to enjoy touch, in fact you craved it, but something kept you held back, nervous. Perhaps it was the fear of inadequacy, that nagging feeling that no matter what you did, you'd never be good enough. After all, it was easier to keep people at a distance, rather than them being disappointed with you. At least that's what you told yourself at the time, and look where it had gotten you.

You thought back to the night that you'd lost your virginity, how your ex had pressured you...

'Come on...' He said, 'Everyone's doing it, I'll make it feel good I promise...' Well, it hadn't felt good, in fact it downright hurt. You had asked him to stop, only for him to ignore you. You felt dirty having his dewy flesh pressed up against your own, turning your face so that he hadn't seen the tears welling in your eyes as he wriggled on top of you like a worm on a hook. The whole affair had been awkward and embarrassing, everything from watching him fumble with the condom to him falling to sleep right after finishing, leaving you to your thoughts. That night you'd stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your body was attractive, conventionally so. Fat in all the right places, slim in others, you'd never had problems with men being attracted to you, but it never did much for you, it all felt so...primal, soulless. You had frowned, wondering what could be wrong with you, weren’t you supposed to enjoy the attention? Wasn't sex supposed to feel good? That night you'd vowed to yourself that you wouldn't lay a finger on another man until you were ready, and if they couldn't accept that, then perhaps they weren't worth your time. In a way you felt pretentious, but at the same time you felt this need to be guarded. Never again did you want to feel taken advantage of.

Your silent reverie was disturbed by a strange sensation, a sort of thumping from the road sending vibrations up into the car. You snatched your earbuds out and opened your eyes, groggily. There laid out before you was a seemingly endless expanse of murky grey water, waves gently rolling across its surface. Confused, you looked ahead only to see a concrete bridge that disappeared into the horizon. That explained the thumping feeling. A 65 mph speed limit sign flew past you, you shook your head. "Where are we?" You asked Emily, your voice still heavy with sleep.

"We're going over Lake Pontchartrain!" She chirped back. "Soon we'll be in the city!"

"Yeah," Gracie said leaning back in her seat, turning to face you. "The Lake Pontchartrain Causeway is the longest bridge over water in the world." You raised your eyebrows and nodded your head.

"Oh, great." You said, forcing a smile as if interested. You turned your gaze back to the drab waters, overhead you spot a pelican, its wings spread, gliding along silently. You sighed. Ahead the bridge seemed to disappear into the morning fog, you almost hoped that Emily would slow the fuck down, something about that grey water got under your skin, the idea of plunging into it was less than appealing. Your thoughts drifted back to your touch aversion, 'How in the hell am I meant to hit it off with a guy if I'm worried about even holding his hand?' You thought as you bit your lip. Emily and her friends were probably going to set you up with a guy, some drunk college student undoubtably. You cringed at the thought, the last thing you wanted was to have to tell some hammered dude to lay off. Maybe tomorrow night you could sneak off? You pressed your forehead to the glass. New Orleans was meant to be dangerous, wasn't it? Pretty girls getting kidnapped and mugged in ancient cemeteries, their bodies dumped in bayous. You'd seen enough of your true crime YouTube to know this, your mind already conjuring up images.

'TONIGHT ON SOUTHERN FRIED MURDER, A NAIVE MIDWESTERN CORN QUEEN GOES MISSING IN THE BIG EASY...' You chuckled, but stifled it as soon as it started, not wanting the other girls to think you were weird. And it was Halloween, you were more than sure it was the one night out of the year when all the weirdos came out to play, besides maybe Mardi Gras, but then it probably skewing towards the perverted side of the table. You were unsure what was worse.

"Look!" Emily said from the front, you leaned over and squinted your eyes. There, rising out of the fog like ancient pillars, were the tops of high rises. The city, this was it, everything you were dreading laid out before you like the towers of a hostile fortress. You leaned back, closing your eyes again. You had no interest in watching Emily navigate the streets to your Air B&B in the French Quarter, you'd leave that to her and her new best friends to worry about. In the meantime you were gong to replace your earbuds and get lost for the next few minutes, ease your mind and try to forget about the drudgery to come.

'Maybe it'll work out.' Came a hopeful voice in your head, a rarity these days. 'Maybe you'll meet someone, someone respectful of your boundaries, someone interested in what you're interested in...? This is the big city, the 'Jazz City', anything is possible...' You groaned inwardly at the flash of positivity. Even if you WERE to meet a guy, you mused, he'd probably think you were a weirdo. God knows your ex did, though his judgement was often passed in silence, but you weren't retarded, you could tell. Such men no longer existed. Maybe back in the day, but that was moot, you were born out of your time, and that's just something you were going to have to come to accept. You could hear some squabbling from the front seat, but you chose to ignore it, leaning your head back and waiting to be informed of your arrival.

* * *

Once at the Air B&B you watch as the other girls flitter about the apartment like butterflies looking over every square inch. Emily claims the master bedroom along with Gracie, Jennifer says that she needs the spare to herself because she prefers sleeping alone. You frown as you stare at the sofa in the living room, its disheveled throw pillows tossing a pitiful sight your way. You toss your duffel bag onto the couch with little fanfare, sighing deeply as you close your eyes.

'It's just for a weekend', you tell yourself. 'You can handle it.' You sit down and rub your temples as you listen to the jovial laughter in the adjacent rooms. Emily emerges, a wide smile on her face, she looks over to you.

"Oh, you're taking the couch?" She asks, stifling a laugh. "Well, that's mighty white of you." You frown. "We're going down to walk around for a little while, hope that's okay?" It wasn't an invitation, you could tell.

"Yeah, sure."

"Tonight we're going out to the Halloween celebration, so make sure you've got your costume on when we get back." She gives you a wink. You give a sad thumbs-up. You wait until the girls are clear of earshot before you groan and flop down on the couch.

"Why did I come, I'm so fucking stupid..." You say, fighting back tears. After an hour or so you check your phone, no new messages. You sit up and stretch lazily before wandering over to the window and peering down into the street. New Orleans was certainly lovely, you could give it that. The French style architecture wasn't like anything you'd seen in the US, it felt timeless. You sighed, you'd have given anything to have been born a hundred or so years ago, you often wondered if you were an old soul, suck in some sort of karmic cycle to live again and again until you get it right.

"Well, I'm certainly making a mess of it this go around..." You mumble before turning to your duffle bag. You unzip it with a quick flick of your wrist and dump the contents out onto the couch. You did't pack much, as you weren't particularly expecting this trip to be an eventful one, but you did pack what mattered, your costume. You shimmied out of your clothes and pulled the black fringe dress over your head, checking in the mirror to see if it still fit well. Once satisfied you went to the bathroom, carefully applying your make up. You were never particularly good at the application of said cosmetics, but you were giving it your all. Maybe you could meet someone...No. You shook your head, dislodging the thought, and slightly smearing your mascara.

Once you were dressed you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You were pretty, it was undeniable, the black feather in your hair moving slightly in the breeze coming from the air conditioner. You twirled the pearls around your neck absentmindedly as you stared at yourself. The idea of your body being touched was still a sore subject, you were slightly nervous about the crowds, but you'd have to make do. You returned to your windowsill and perched, gazing outside waiting on the other's arrival.

* * *

Your companions returned around 6PM, you had been sitting up reading a novel when they burst through the doors laughing like a bunch of pre-lit hyenas. You took a deep breath and sat up.

"Woah, you're ready to go, look at you!" Emily squealed running over towards you. "That dress really makes your tits stand out..." Gracie and Jennifer giggled amongst themselves and went to their respective bedrooms to get ready.

"Thanks...I guess..." You forced as smile, looking at Emily sheepishly.

"Well, I'm going to go get ready, are you excited?" You nod, smiling, or at least giving the appearance of a smile, truth be told you were nervous as fuck. "Hopefully tonight you'll get lucky." She winked again, nudging your arm.

"Y...yeah." You whispered as you shoved your iPhone into your purse. "Maybe so."

* * *

Needless to say you didn't get lucky. Around an hour into your reverie you grew tired. The other girls were properly wasted now, paring off with fresh faced young men while you stood in the corner of a dimly lit bar, staring down at your Coke. Your feet hurt, the music was too loud, you felt like an utter fool. Faces came and went in the crowd, blurs, flashes of masks, face paint, beads, the smell of alcohol and piss lingering heavily in the air. Suddenly you began to feel as if the world was spinning, the bodies that pressed against you in the crowd feeling like a vice, you needed to get away.

'I'm so stupid....so very stupid...' You thought as you pushed past the crowd. You began to walk in a straight line, hoping to escape the crush of the revelers. Someone groped you, a hand reaching out of the dark. 'Just keep moving...' You think, closing your eyes. You're fighting to control your breath, cursing that you couldn't even read the tiled street names inlaid on the pavement due to the number of people walking about. Were you on Toulouse? St. Louis? You couldn't remember, and frankly didn't care, you'd find your way back eventually. All that mattered right now was escaping the crowd, and hopefully a panic attack.

You crossed what you thought to be North Rampart Street and into what you assumed to be a small park. Only then did you realize that for the first time, you were utterly alone. You snapped your head up, looking around suspiciously. Somehow you'd managed to escape, but where were you? Whitewashed pillars stood on either side of you, somewhere, further in, a light fixed to a post illuminated the area just enough to see, some moths flittering around it. You pulled out your phone, opening the maps app. St. Louis Cemetery Number 1.

"Jesus, fuck..." You mumbled, realizing where you were. A fresh wave of panic began to set over you, weren't these cemeteries meant to be dangerous, there could be rapists out here or murders...your mind flashing back to all of those true crime podcasts that filled your idle time. You whirled around nervously, looking behind you.

"Okay, I came in this way, but I know I turned here and...maybe I took a right turn, or was it a left..." You gulped, you were lost. Spending the night in a cemetery wasn't your idea of fun, despite your fascination with morbidity. You checked your map, zooming in, as you did so you noticed the top corner of your screen. 1% battery.

"No! No no nononono!!!" You moaned. Why hadn't you checked to see if your phone had been charged when you plugged it into the wall socket in the front room of your Air B&B? Sometimes plugs don't work and.... With that your screen goes black, leaving you illuminated in only the dim light of the cemetery. You stand there frozen, a shiver running through you. This is bad, but it might be even worse if you stayed put. The cemetery wasn't that big, you'd find your way out if you just kept walking in one direction, right? You take a deep breath.

"Alright, time to be brave." You say, as if to reassure yourself, before beginning to walk down the narrow corridors. As you walk you notice how chilly the air suddenly is, you could kill yourself for not bringing that shrug you packed, ah, well, it's not like you'll be needing it in a few.... You froze, from around the corner you could hear a faint noise. Humming? Someone humming a tune. Your blood ran cold.

'Alright' you thought listening in, 'its a man. Youngish, and...' You listened closer, 'he's humming an Eddie Cantor song.' You suddenly raise your eyebrows, 'what...?' You bite your lower lip pensively, would a rapist be humming a tune from a guy whose biggest hit was from the mid 1920s? Your curiosity was piqued, you needed to see for yourself who this mystery man was. Hugging the wall of the crypt in front of you, you peered around the corner, your eyes squinting to see in the dim light.

It was a man alright, his svelte figure standing out amongst the darkness, the overhead light illuminating his immediate area more so than yours. He stood around six foot you surmised, wearing a 1920s costume much like your own, scratching cryptic 'XXX's into the crypt in front of him as he sang quietly to himself. You breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, so it was just another party goer, probably wanting to get away from the crowd as well, maybe he knew the way out, maybe... You paused, something did seem off about him, though you couldn't put your finger on exactly what. His reddish-auburn hair swayed in the slight evening breeze, he adjusted his glasses, tilting his head and reading the inscription on the grave. You squinted, but couldn't quite make out the inscription yourself, you take a step forward in an attempt to make the typeface more legible, in doing so you step on a twig. There is an audible 'crunch' beneath your feet, you freeze like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide in horror.

He immediately grows silent, turning towards you in an almost inhuman swiftness. Your eyes meet his, their brown depths seeming to stare endlessly for a moment. He gazes down at you for what feels like an eternity, his tight lipped smile spreading into a wide grin. His eyes lit up as if there was an air of recognition, they trailed from your face down to your costume and back up again.

"Bonjour, Ça va?" He says invitingly, you're a bit taken off guard by how handsome he is, his skin looking warm despite the dim light. You quickly regain yourself.

"Uh...no parle French...." You mumble, stepping forward into the light, he laughs, a dawn of understanding seeming to light up his features.

"Apologies my dear." He says smiling, retuning his gaze to the graves. "I mistook you for someone else." You stare at him for a moment before speaking again, timidly.

"I like your costume, you must have come out here to get away from the parties, huh?" He chuckles a bit and nods.

"Something like that." He says softly. You turn your eyes towards the inscription 'Alastor Hartfelt' reads one, the other is illegible, but the dates would indicate a parent perhaps.

"You know these people?" You ask softly. He nods, his auburn hair gently swaying with the evening breeze.

"Indeed, I used to." You frown, the death dates are from the 1910s and 1930s respectively, there isn't any way this man, who doesn't seem a day over 35, would have known these people. Perhaps they were his great grandparents, you mused.

"So, um..." You fidget with the fringe of your dress nervously. "I'm uh, actually kind of lost, do you think that you could, um...show me the way out of here?" You look up at him, hopeful. His grin widens as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Sure darling, I have nothing better to do on this fine evening, despite its sacred nature." He motions for you to follow him as he starts walking, you tentatively follow, a few quiet seconds go by before you try to ease the tension.

"I liked the song you were singing, are you into Swing music? Jazz?" His cheeks seem to blush at your words.

"Oh, most certainly! Though I'd find it rather rare for a girl of your era to find such music appealing. Fascinating indeed." He looks a bit smug, you look away, worried that you're coming across as weird, still you can't help yourself as you continue.

"You...like the 20s?" He nods at your question.

"Mmmhm."

"That's funny, ha, I've never really found anyone else who did and..." You trail off, starting to feel nervous. You didn't know why you'd be telling this stranger this, but you feel like maybe, just maybe you could make a connection with another person. Just for a moment. "I feel like sometimes I was born in the wrong era." He tilts his head curiously.

"Feeling out of time is a very common thing my dear, believe me." He starts humming to himself again, ahead you can see the dimly lit gate of the cemetery.

"Hey..." You say softly, looking back up at him. "You said that tonight was sacred, is that some local thing?" He looks down at you and sighs.

"Not really. You see, All Hallow's Eve is a scared night in the sense that it's the only night of the year when the souls of the damned can return to Earth if they so choose..." You swallow audibly at his words.

"Gosh. Do you think that they can hurt people?" You mumble, his grin widens, but only for a second.

"No, no...luckily for the living that is..." You laugh nervously at his words, staring at the gate ahead. As you approach you begin to hear the reveling of the crowds, you take a deep breath and look up towards him. You don't know where your boldness is coming from, perhaps it's the fear of going back out into the crowd, perhaps it's the cool night air, you're not sure. Though what you are sure of, is that as you stare up at this man you feel something. You can't quite put your fingers on it, but it makes you want to shun the crowds, shun the parties, shun your 'friends', you want this moment to continue, you want to stay here. With him.

"What's your name?" You ask suddenly, he glances down at you, his expression one of surprise. Feeling like a fool you blurt out your name, hoping to ease the tension.

"It's a pleasure to meet you my dear, I'm Alastor." He goes to extend his hand, but suddenly stops, putting it behind his back.

'He doesn't want to touch me...' You think, your mind starting to tell you that this was a stupid idea, that no man as handsome as this would ever give you the time of day. You feel tears welling in the corners of your eyes, you turn away so he doesn't notice. An awkward silence falls over the two of you, he averts his gaze and looks towards the crowds, a soft smile on his lips.

"I suppose you should get going then, there's a world of entertainment out there for you, isn't there?" His words have an air of melancholy that is unmistakeable, you look back up to him, your eyes searching his features.

"Aren't you going back out there?" You ask, he turns back to look at you.

"No, no. I think I'll spend tonight alone, as I usually do. There isn't anything out there for me anymore, Cher." His smile becomes smaller, softer, almost resigned. You take a deep breath, calling yourself utterly retarded in your head for what you're about to say, but maybe...just maybe…

"Would you like to hang out with me then?" You instantly regretted the words as they fell from your lips, you shivered a bit, terrified of the response you were likely to get. You cast your eyes downwards to the ground, biting your lip.

"You...want me to...'hang out' with you?" He asked, stifling a laugh. "You...want me to...?" With that he burst out laughing, your cheeks burned with an intense heat, you felt like such a fool. Why did you have to ask that!? How could you be so stupid...

"I...I..." You start to mumble, but he holds his hand up to silence you, his long, slender fingers inches from your face.

"No, no, no my dear, you misunderstand." He smiles down at you, though his expression is not one of mocking. You look back up at him, still dreadfully embarrassed. "It's just that...I haven't 'hung out' with anyone in a very long time, so getting an offer of this sort is very interesting indeed." He pauses, as if weighing up things in his mind. "If you like, dear, I could pass the night with you. It's rare to meet a girl of your mindset, I like it." He nods to your costume, a look of approval on his face. You feel like you're going to melt where you stand. This guy, this hot guy, wants to spend the night with you! You curb your enthusiasm for just a moment though, wondering if he expects anything more than just chat.

"Um..." You say nervously, "What exactly do you have in mind then, if you don't want to go back to the party?" He could sense where you were going with that statement, a faint blush coming upon his cheeks.

"Well Cher, a cemetery isn't really any place for chit chat..." He looks back towards the French Quarter. "I suppose I could take you somewhere, if you like. I know a few places that may be more our speed..." You smile at him, barely able to contain your excitement. "You like the 20s, hmm? Well, how about I take you to a place that was absolutely jumping back then?" He struts through the cemetery gates, motioning for you to follow. "And they still play Jazz."

"I'd like that...a lot..." Your voice is an almost reverent whisper. You couldn't believe it, you didn't want to believe it...You were actually going to a bar with a guy, a good looking guy at that. How would Emily and her friends react if they were to see you now? Jealousy? You were sure that never in a million years would they expect a plain girl like you to be going out with such a specimen. For a moment you felt a little bit of narcissistic pride, but it was quickly replaced with a sense of appreciation. Appreciation that this man was kind enough to help you in the first place, that he seems respectful, and that he has the same interests as you. Maybe that small voice inside of your head that told you that anything could happen in New Orleans was right, miracles do happen. You pick up the pace so that you walk beside him, he steps ahead and crosses over to the curb side.

"No, Cher. A man always walks facing the street." He said softly, adjusting his bowtie. You raise an eyebrow. Okay, so he was a bit old fashioned, that was refreshing. You smile down to yourself before returning your gaze to his slender frame. You feel the heat returning to your cheeks as you stare at the way his trousers hang off of his hips. You also notice something else, how well made his costume is. You were familiar with the craftsmanship of clothing from the 1920s, you owned many vintage pieces yourself, and his was some of the best you'd seen. Well kept, clean, almost too good to be a Halloween costume. You looked back up at his face, his glasses were rather vintage as well. You didn't know many man who went for the round frames these days, women sure, but men...? You laughed silently to yourself, perhaps he's some sort of hipster with very particular tastes. You could appreciate that.

* * *

The bar that Alastor takes you to is more like a hole in the wall than a proper night spot. You peer around through the dimly lit room, its mahogany bar standing imposingly on a far wall, smoke falling about the patrons like a dim haze, none of which seem like excited university students. A small band plays jazz music in the corner.

"At midnight things really pick up, you'll see." Alastor says, the smug grin never leaving his features. "I used to come here often, still do...at least on Halloween." He saunters over to the bar and sits, motioning to the seat beside him. You sit down, crossing your legs primly.

"I...don't drink that much. Maybe you could help me pick something out?" You say as you look up at him, your eyes taking him in under the lights of the bar. He seems angelic, his features angular and his skin pale with the faintest undertones of a tan. He glances down at you, you can feel your cheeks grow hot again, he smiles and looks to the bar menu.

"Well, you are in New Orleans my dear, so I suppose that a Sazerac would be in order." You nod, you have no idea what that is, but tonight you're feeling brave.

"I'll pay." You blurt out. "Let me buy you a drink, after all, you helped me out of the cemetery." You pull your credit card out from your purse, he looks at it curiously.

"Well, please excuse me, but...I don't know if I should..." He looked almost embarrassed. For a moment you falter, maybe you had just broken some Southern social code about buying guys drinks, but your boldness is pushing its limits.

"I insist." He smiles slightly.

"If the lady insists." He waved at the bartender and motioned for him to come over. "I'd like a whisky on the rocks and a Sazerac, for my date..." You look at him incredulously. His date? Is that what he said? Your heart starts doing flips in your chest, you make a small squeak of a noise, but thankfully no one hears. You offer your card to the waiter as Alastor watches intently, you can't help but smile. He's very inquisitive, even over the most mundane stuff, you like that. As the waiter leaves to fill your drink orders you put your card back into your purse, Alastor glances inside.

"What's that then?" He asks motioning to your phone, you laugh softly and pull it out.

"Just my iPhone." You say holding it out to him, he takes it looking at the smooth glass. "But it's kind of dead..." Before you can finish your sentence it powers on in his hands, you take it back looking at it, confused. "That's funny...I thought it was dead..." He hums.

"Electronics are funny like that." He gently takes it back from your hands. "Does this 'phone' have a radio?" He questions tapping it, seemingly confused by your passcode.

"Well, I have Spotify..." You chuckle, his brows furrow and he hands it back to you.

"No matter. I haven't the time to learn." There was a hint of melancholy in his words, you sit in a silence that's only broken by the barkeep returning with your drinks. You smile at the bartender as he places them in front of you, only then do you notice the large mirror that sits behind the bar, you see your reflection clearly...but where's Alastor? You squint at it for a moment before laughing.

"Hey," You say as you turn back towards him. "Do you see that? Is that some sort of trick mirror or something?" You laugh, "It's really weird." He stiffens a bit, barely enough to notice, before he takes the drinks in his hands.

"Yes, Cher, yes...." He stands and nods for you to follow him. "Let's sit on the veranda then, it's more...private." You get up obediently and follow him up the winding staircase towards the second story. You watch the way his hips sway, graceful, sensual... You blush as you look away, almost embarrassed by where your thoughts were going. You could allow this man to take you to bed. You could feel those hips pressed firmly between your own. You could, you could...but you won't. As much as you'd like to you were still desperately afraid of his touch, of what that might mean. Perhaps he'd like a fling, but you wanted something more, if there was to be anything at all.
At the top of the staircase he hands you the drinks and walks over to the shutters, pulling them open to reveal a small balcony with a table set, he smiles at you as he latches the shutters to the wall.

"It's quaint, isn't it?" His voice was seductive, you could feel it in your bones, though you took a deep breath and told yourself that this was probably just how he was with most women, his personality was charming. There was no denying that.

"Very." You say as you sit down gingerly on the balcony, the cool night air ruffles the feather in your hair, you look out and can see the throngs of people only a few blocks over, but to you they could have been a world away, all that mattered here and now was this handsome man now sitting across from you. You take a sip of your drink and cough a bit, he chuckles.
"Oh wow, that's strong!" You say, fanning yourself a bit.

"Yes, during prohibition they served the strongest." He said, leaning his chin down into his palm as he stares at you.

"You're not having a sip?" You nodded towards his drink resting on the table, the condensation beginning to drip off of the glass like a cold sweat, much like the sweat that was beginning to show on your brow whenever you gazed into his eyes. He sighs.

"Maybe just a bit, if you'll do so with me." He says softly, picking up his glass. You nod, pushing back your own drink, savoring the last bit. As you do so you hear a splash against the table, you lower your drink to look at him, he stairs at the drink that's now adorning the table and the floor with a hint of amusement.

"Dang." You say, giggling. "It's like it went right though you." He blushed a bit and grinned.

"So it seems." There was an awkward pause before he leans back and asks, "What brings you to New Orleans anyway, my dear?" You look down into your empty glass, smiling softly, but you could feel his eyes on you, you could feel that he knew your expression was one of quiet unease.

"I'm here with friends, that's all." He raises an eyebrow.

"And where did these friends go when they left you all alone in my cemetery, hmm?" He twirled a strand of reddish hair in his fingers.

"Well..." You began, you felt silly opening up to what was still practically a stranger, but you were feeling just tipsy enough to do so. "I um, actually wanted to get away from them. I don't do big parties, you know, crowds and stuff." He nodded.

"Not one for live entertainment?"

"No, it's not that, I just..." You trailed off.

"You just what, my dear, use your words." He said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"I just fell so, I dunno, out of place. I'm actually trying to get my life together you know, I'm not in school, I don't have a boyfriend...anymore anyway, he left me for some girl when he went to college. And I'm stuck working as a check-out girl at a grocery store." You shake your head and laugh a bit. "My best friend from high school convinced me to to come down here to try to meet someone, as it turns out it was just because she and her new friends needed me to fill out their hotel reservation." You shrug.

"Sounds like a lot." He says softly, his hazel eyes falling upon yours. "But you know, there's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself every once in a while, perhaps you just haven't met the right man?" You laugh.

"I guess, but to be painfully honest I feel like I should have been born decades ago. I should have lived it up in the roaring 20s, not being suck as a bored millennial in the terminal decline of our country." You take a sip at the melted ice in your glass. "But enough of that. What do you do Alastor?"

"I used to work in radio." He says, you can hear the passion in his words, the way that his eyes light up as he says it. "But now I help run a hotel." At this his voice lowers, almost as if he's embarrassed to admit to it.

"Oh? Here in town or...?" He holds his hand up and makes a waving motion.

"No, no, no. Nowhere near here. A real hellhole, I'd rather not talk about it on my night off." He looks out at the crowds. "Tonight I just want to forget things for a while." You can relate, being here with him was really like a godsend.

"Hey Alastor?" You ask softly, he turns and looks at you, tilting his head a bit.

"Hmm?" He asks, running his finger around the rim of his glass, making the crystal squeal a bit.

"Thank you for coming here with me tonight." You start to reach for his hand, though he quickly puts it under the table. For once you're not offended, but start to wonder if he's in a similar position to you, lost, lonely, apprehensive. You could see, just for the briefest of moments, what looked to be scars on his arm, just below the cuff of his shirt. You take a deep breath.

"Don't thank me Cher." He says, smiling softly. "There are many things I want to do tonight, but I'm a bit limited, believe me. Spending time with you is helping me cope." That was enough for you. He leans back again. "Tell me more about your life." You take a deep breath, unsure of where this conversation would lead, unsure if you were ready to talk to someone about all of the anxiety you were feeling, all of your worries. Though in this moment none of that mattered to you, you had someone, and you were ready.

"Alright, let's talk." You say softly.

* * *

As the night wore on you poured your heart out to Alastor, you told him all of your thoughts, your troubles, everything from your problems with your ex to how you felt your parents infantilized you. He sat there, smiling softly, listening, asking a question here or there. You were so grateful that someone was listening to you, actually listening. You had a few more drinks, you had begun to feel a bit woozy as he told you more about himself, about how his mother died of the flu. Well, Covid was pretty bad you said, he chuckled and shook his head. He told you about his life in radio, how he barely escaped being drafted into the Great War, how he feared that all radio broadcasts would go defunct during the war time. You shook your head, thinking that you were really too tipsy to be understanding him properly. You excused yourself and went to the ladies room.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, dabbing at your cheeks with a wet piece of tissue. You noticed that you looked a little bit better, as if a weight had lifted off of your shoulders. In a way you felt free. And it was a good feeling. You smiled at yourself in the mirror and gave off a little laugh. You really liked Alastor, like a lot.

"A lot a lot." You said to yourself giggling a bit. You reapplied some chapstick that you had in your purse, looking at yourself in the mirror you felt as if you were pretty tonight. You felt that with Alastor by your side you could allow yourself to feel pretty. With Alastor maybe you could be more than just a shut-in loser who still lived with her parents who worked at a discount grocery store. With Alastor maybe you could actually be someone... You snap your purse closed, shake off your dress, and head back to your table.

"You look really lovely tonight." Alastor says as you take your seat. You feel yourself growing red again.

"Thanks Al." You say bashfully.

"So you're interested in the 20s you said, is that why you chose that outfit?" He asked softly. You nod.

"Yeah, it's sort of an autistic interest of mine?" You laugh.

"Autistic?" He asks tilting his head. "I'm probably 'autistic' then as well, maybe that's why I was drawn to you." You laugh, it's a bit awkward, but real.

"You do seem to be interested in it as well." You motion to his 'costume'. "It's kind of weird to meet a likeminded person really." He nods.

"Well Cher, I'm a wealth of information on the topic." He said with a smirk. "Try me." And you do. You try him for a full hour, there's not a bit of 20s pop culture that he isn't aware of. You lean back impressed, it's almost as if he lived it himself. You'd never met anyone who was more knowledgable than you. You had the sensation that maybe you'd met your twin flame. You breathed in deeply, the cool night air filling your lungs as your heart beat ever so faster. As he spoke your mind was awash with thoughts of going back to his apartment, wherever that may be, holding him close...

"And then there were the murders.." He says softly, drawing you out of your thoughts.

"Murders?" You ask curiously. He nods.

"Yes, terrible ones here in New Orleans, they spanned from 1923 to 1933. Mostly the dregs of society, other murderers, rapists, the occasional politician." He sat his chin in his hand looking at you with interest. "They never caught the murderer though, such a shame." Your eyes light up.

"Oh shit! I know exactly what you're talking about!" You exclaim, he tilts his head in confusion, his smile twitching a bit.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I heard about it on one of my podcasts..."

"Podcasts?"

"Yeah, yeah, so the guy killed probably a dozen or so people, most of them were criminals who were paroled, and a few were more well known individuals. The victims were completely mutilated, like someone had gone ripshit on them, pulling out their guts and everything. They said that it was some of the worst murders that the city had ever seen..." Alastor looks at you now with a keen interest.

"And...?"

"And they never figured out who did it. The murders just suddenly stopped in the middle of 1933. Some people say that he left, some say that he died, either way he's long dead now." You finish and take a sip of your drink. Alastor sits quietly for a moment.

"It's funny isn't it?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Well, I don't know about that, but it's certainly interesting." You put your glass down and look at him intently. "I love murder and mayhem, It's some of the most interesting things out there, life is rather mundane otherwise." You pause. "I'd kill to be able to talk to the guy, to ask him 'why?'" He shakes his head.

"Does there really have to be a 'why'? I mean, perhaps the gentleman just called himself cleaning out the city, taking care of business when no one else would. It's a noble aspiration." You shake your head.

"No, I think there's more to it, these things don't just happen for no reason. If you ask me, he'd probably been through some rough stuff, and thats the only way that he knew how to deal with it." Alastor looks away, his expression unreadable. You grow quiet, watching him intently, had you said something that had upset him?

"Hey, do you hear that?" He asked softly. "The band is picking up, it must be midnight." You look at him curiously before realizing that the band had started to play faster music.

"Oh, yeah?" You said, lost in his eyes for a moment.

"Come let's dance." He said, jumping up. You look up at him, terrified.

"Oh, oh no. I'm no good at it, really." You said, putting your hands up in front of you. He laughs, shaking his head.

"You never get better if you don't try my dear." He says looking down at you, his eyes soft. "We don't even have to touch." You looked up at him, those words, it's as if he saw through you, as if he could sense your apprehension. After all those things you'd told him, he'd listened, he'd actually listened. You laugh.

"Well, if you insist." You say as you stand on your feet. "But you have to swear not to make fun of me, I'm telling you that I have two left feet." He nodded, closing his eyes.

"I'll take that into account my dear."

You follow him downstairs, the music growing louder, you look nervously to the makeshift dance floor where a few locals seemed to be swaying to the music.

"Here, I'll teach you." He says motioning for you to watch his feet. You look intently as he takes a few steps. "That's basic zydeco. Now you try." You do as he says, awkwardly shuffling about, he laughs, clapping. "That's it! Beautiful, simply beautiful." You feel like you look like a fool, but being here with him melts away all of your insecurities. You watch as he dances, his body graceful. You stand entranced, how could any normal person move like he does? It's as if he's been doing this for a hundred years. He smiles back at you, laughing.

"Come on cher, come on!" He motions for you to join him, you follow him, giggling at how silly you feel. And as the time passes you find yourself staring into his smiling face, seeing how much fun he's having, how much he's relishing it, it's almost as if this is the first time he's actually enjoyed himself in a long, long time. You can't help but find yourself drawn into that happiness, laughing and dancing like you never had in your life. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the music, but at that very moment you wanted the night to never end, you wanted to be there, swaying on the dance floor, with this beautiful and mysterious man. You wanted to soak up his joy, bathe in it, you wanted to feel him so much closer...

"Hey." You hear his voice shout over the music, you open your eyes and look up at him. "Let's go, I want to show you something." You look at him curiously. "Come on, let's get away from the noise..." He struts out the door and waves at you to follow. You do so, grabbing your long cast off shoes as you start to make your way to the street. As you see the look on his face your mind goes to where you feel are the same places his are at that moment.

"Your place?" You ask softly. He nods.

"Yes cher, yes."

* * *

Once out on the street and away from the music he smiles down at you, blushing a bit. You look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"I've actually never brought someone to my home, and to be quite frank, I haven't even been home for the last few Halloweens." You look at him curiously before he waves you off. "No worries, there isn't anything a little voodoo magic can't spruce up..." You laugh softly.

"What...?" You still feel a little drunk, not just from spirits, but also from the sensation of being so close to him. Your touch aversion is quickly dissipating as you feel so drawn to him. You reach a nervous hand out towards him, but he steps away. You awkwardly take your hand back, embarrassed.

'Maybe he's just waiting until we get back to his place...' You think, your heart still hopeful for an intimate connection. He lifts his head and breathes in the cool night air. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out some money, your eyes widen as you both gaze down upon the antiquated paper and coinage.

“Wow, you really did get into character for Halloween.” You laugh.

"This is a rather rude question my dear, perhaps you'll forgive me, but do you mind paying the fair for a cab? You see, I'm fresh out of usable cash." You shake your head.

"No, thats not really rude at all." You chuckle a bit. "I'm an independent woman after all..." You give him a wink and he rolls his eyes.

"Ah, yes, the emancipated woman." He crosses his arms. You pull out your phone and open the Uber app.

"Can you give me your address?" You ask as he leans over and stares at the illuminated glass. He softly tells you, you think that you can feel his breath on your ear, but then you realize that it's much too cold, perhaps just the wind playing tricks on you. "Oh, someone can be here in less than five minutes..." You say as you look at the location. "You live in Jean Lafitte National Historical Preserve?" You ask curiously, it doesn't seem like a place someone would be living to you, it seems like the middle of the bayou.

"Yes my dear, I used to commute into work. I had a very nice Model-T once." He trails off, smiling to himself. "Well, I can assure you that it's a very lovely area." You trust him. Maybe that makes you a fool, God knows if this was an episode of one of your podcasts you'd be dead meat, but still...you trust him.

"Alright." You say as you lean against the wall of the nearest building. You look away for a moment and feel the need to disclose you sexual history. "I, uh...I'm not a virgin, but I've never slept with anyone without a condom...and I only did it once, so..." You look up at him, he's blushing deeply, his lips pressed together in a tight smile.

"It's...okay, I've never been with anyone myself." He chokes out. You suddenly feel very stupid for bringing it up.

'He's a virgin?' You think to yourself, 'there's absolutely no way...'

"I'm sorry, maybe I'm a little old fashioned, but it takes a while for me to be attracted to someone that way, I think I'd have to fall in love with them first." He says softly. "And the thing is, I haven't really ever met anyone that I've felt strong feelings for..." He trailed off, you look away, almost as if anticipating the rest. "Until tonight maybe." You look up at him, your eyes wide with shock.

"I...me..?" You whisper, your voice trembling. Again you reach out for him, but he shifts his weight to his other foot to keep you from making contact.

"Yes, but my dear, let's take things slow. Let love blossom if it may, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. After all, we only have this one night. No need to touch what may not be there tomorrow." He picked at the sleeve of his shirt in a nervous way, you feel a bitter pang of disappointment, but you understand his sentiment. He's as guarded as you.

"Sure." You say in a hushed tone. In the distance you see headlights, you check your app and compare number plates as the car approaches. "This is our ride." You say, nodding to him. He opens the door for you and you scoot to the drivers side. Your driver looks at his phone that's haphazardly attached to the car's vent.

"You sure you have the right address?" The driver asks as he zooms in on the drop off location. "I mean, it's in the middle of nowhere."

"Yes, that's the correct address." Alastor says with a smile. "Don't worry about it." The driver shrugs and pulls off onto the road.

The car ride is quiet, you watch as the city lights fade and the bayou is open before you. In the moonlight you can just make out the surface of the waters. You glance over to Alastor, he stares out the window, the ever present smile adorning his features. He seems lost in thought, you open your mouth as if to speak, but stop yourself. The driver pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Well, here it is, or at least as close as I can get." He pulls over to the curb, you look out into the night and all you can see is darkness. "Are you two sure this is the correct address?" He asks one more time, this time looking at you though his rear view mirror.

"Yes, this is it." Alastor says as he exits the car, quickly walking over to your side to open your door. You nod at him as you step out and look into the still waters.

"Are you sure Al...?" You ask softly, a pit of apprehension starting to grow in your belly. He nods.

"Positive." He waves at the driver as he turns around to leave. You stumble a bit in the darkness, trying to follow Alastor's footsteps so that you don't plummet into the stagnant waters and become some lucky alligator's midnight snack. Just ahead in the brush nestled amongst the saw palmettos you can just make out what you believe to be the outline of a house. You squint into the darkness, hoping that the moonlight will offer you a semblance of reassurance.

"Do you trust me?" You heard Alastor, but couldn't make him out in the dim light, you reach your hands out, groping.

"Y...yes." You say as you reach for him.

"Then I need you to close your eyes, Cher." He says softly. You freeze. "Just for a moment." You take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"Alright." You say, closing your eyes.

"No peeking." He says as you hear a rustling before you. Through your eyelids you get a sensation of light, as if a flash happened not too far from you.

"Alastor..."

"Not yet."

"I..." You say, wrapping your arms around yourself. You were starting to think that maybe there was more to Alastor than he let on, for some reason a shiver crept up your spine, as if you weren't in the presence of a lover, but a predator. You gulped.

"Alright my dear, you can open your eyes." You braced yourself, slowly opining your eyes and looking toward the direction of his voice.

There in front of you stood Alastor, he rested one arm against the post of a porch, a porch that was attached to a small house. You blinked in confusion, it was obviously the house whose outline you'd seen but you could have sworn it was dilapidated...

"This is your house?" You ask, his grin widens in response.

"Yes, yes it it." You look over it, it's like a movie set, a house built in the typical vernacular of the 1920s, fireflies buzzing around the porch, a lantern hanging down from a post illuminating Alastor just perfectly. Inside you could see a warm light emanating from what you assumed to be a parlor, the sounds of Jazz wafting out into the night air. He motions for you to come in.

"Well, you are my guest after all..." He says softly. As you approach you notice a Model-T Ford to the side of the house, along with a hand pump for water. You shake your head as you step up on to the porch, looking at the patio furniture which were undoubtably period pieces.

"You live in a time warp." You laugh. "It's like heaven." You words take on a hint of vulnerable awe. For the first time in your life you feel as if you've found somewhere were you fit perfectly. No longer were you lost in time, wandering around as if you were out of place. Tonight, here with this lovely man, you found your niche in the vastness of the universe. This was your place, this was your man. You looked away, fighting a tear from streaking down your cheek. He holds the door open for you, beckoning you into the the light behind him.

"Come on, love."

* * *

When you walk through the front door it's as if you had stepped into your own dreams. Alastor's house was straight out of the 1920s, everything was perfect, right down to the knobs on the doors. You look around in awe, your breath catching in your throat.

"Alastor..." You whisper, your voice quivering.

"Yes darling?" He asks softly as he sits down on the loveseat in the corner of the room. He motions for you to join him, waving towards the winged back chair across from him. You walk over to him, your eyes focused on his face, the glimmer of the fire that burned in the fireplace flickering on his glasses. His grin widened. "Please join me..." You sit across from him, never taking your eyes off of his.

"Is this real...?" You ask in a hushed tone, you pick up a book that rests on the coffee table beside you, thumbing through the pages, reading the title page. Copyright 1927, the binding and pages immaculate.

"Of course my dear." Alastor says looking you over with a languid nod of the head. You look up to him, hot tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

"How, though? It's too perfect..." You wave your hands around, stifling a sob of joy. "You have the most incredible collection of antiques I've ever seen..." He nods.

"I'm glad that you like it." He says, his voice breathy, betraying a sense of desire or curiosity. "You're the only person I've met who appreciates the same things that I do." He paused, tilting his head. "Right down to the bloody mayhem." You blushed.

"Morbid curiosity." You quipped back, he nods, pointing to his bookshelf in the corner. Your eyes scan the titles, numerous volumes on forensics and naturalism grace the shelves, a few on taxidermy and art, a volume of French poetry. Your eyes widen a bit.

"Morbid curiosity." He smiles. You lean back in your seat, genuinely beginning to wonder if this was a dream.

"How do you live like this?" You finally ask. "Your home, your life, it's like it's ripped from some other part of time. How do you manage?"

"I have my ways." He says leaning back and stretching his arms out in front of himself. "This world is a bit too fast for me now, though perhaps you would't understand." You shake your head at his words.

"No, no...I do." You pause, looking down at your hands folded neatly in your lap. "Sometimes I feel like the world is passing me by, you know? Like I'm stuck in time, stagnated, while everything else moves so quickly around me..." You shrug, adjusting the strap of your dress. "When I graduated from high school I never really had any plans, I knew that I wanted something out of life, I just didn't know what. My God, life moves so quickly and I just felt so left behind... My friends all went off and made new friends, my boyfriend left me for a more interesting girl...even my parents continued to treat me like a small child that needed help. It's like, I was watching the world continue on without me. And it did, the dawns kept coming, the nights kept falling, it was as if I was an insignificant blip on the face of the cosmos. Almost as if I were...were...dead." You say the last words in a hushed tone. Alastor studies your face for a long while before speaking.

"You think you know what it's like to be dead? To have the world forget your name, your accomplishments?" You look up at him, your eyes searching and meeting his, a silent understanding passing between the two of you.

"Yeah." You say softly.

"Well, you describe it rather well. The feeling of being forgotten, just a name on a grave..." He looks away, his hand coming up and resting on his chin. "Thank you." He says in a hushed tone. "Thank you for coming home with me, for speaking to me. Sometimes I forget that people like you still exist." You lean forward slightly.

"No Alastor. Thank you for reminding me that people like you still exist." He looks back to you, his soft smile erupting into another grin.

"No problem dear."

* * *

As the night wore on you found yourself lost in conversation with Alastor, enjoying every aspect of him, of his personality, of his beauty. It was around 4 AM that you had begun to notice that he kept glancing over at the clock on the wall, almost nervously. You watched him curiously.

"Um, I should be going back soon." You say softly, he turns his gaze to you and nods.

"You should." You pause for a moment, you eyes searching his.

"Can I...can we..." You were afraid of where the words may lead to as apprehensive as you once were, you absolutely craved this man now. He stares at you, his gaze one of longing, but also a sense of resignation.

"I'm sorry." He says softly. You feel like your whole heart had been ripped out of your chest, your shoulders slump in defeat.

'Of course this is too good to be true...' You think to yourself. 'I've been reading everything wrong, haven't I...?' You look back up to him.

"I was just...under the impression that you'd want to...at least see each other again." He pauses for what, to you, feels like an eternity.

"We cant. It's not possible." He says as his smile becomes tight lipped. You feel anger rising up in your chest.

"Don't you want to at least sleep together, a one night stand...? Anything!?" You say, your voice rising as you lean forward in your chair. He winces, as if the words struck him.

"Darling you have no idea how badly I want to come over there and hold you, to take you into my arms...A one night stand? Ha! I'd want to spend eternity just sitting and talking if we could..."

"Then why can't we?" You say, the dam finally breaking as hot tears spill forth from your eyes. "Why Alastor?" He looks at you for a long moment before speaking, his words a hushed whisper.

"Because I'm dead." You gaze at him incredulously.

"What?"

"Do you remember when I told you that Halloween was the one day out of the year when the spirits of the damned could manifest into this earthly realm? Well my dear, I'm one of those spirits. I'm Alastor Hartfelt, the murderer from your radio shows. And on Halloween I return to my home, to New Orleans, hoping that I could catch a glimpse of that luminous life I left behind. Anything, just a taste that could make me feel as if I were alive again...and tonight..." He trails off as he stands, looking down at you. "I found it in you..."

"You..." You can't begin to finish your sentence, your eyes overflowing with tears. It was one thing to let you down, but now he was making an utter fool of you with such silly lies. "You asshole." You jump up from your chair, running towards the front door. You needed to get away from him, away from the pain that held your chest in a vise. He moves towards you to stop you.

"Wait!" He yells, darting in front of you, his body blocking the door. "Wait cher, please, just...just listen to me!" He says, his voice laced with desperation.

"Get out of my way!" You yell, no longer trying to conceal your hurt. He extends his hand.

"Look, just take my hand alright, just take it...!" He says, shaking his hand in front of your chest. You stare at it with an angry, tear streaked face, mascara starting to drip down your cheeks. You go to swat at his hand but something rather strange happens. You move your hand through the air, but no contact with his skin is made. You look down at his hand in confusion, it's still outstretched, his slender fingers hovering in the air. You go to touch him and gasp as your hand floats right through his. He starts laughing in relief.

"I...I'm..." You stammer.

"See my love...see...?" He says as your eyes meet, as he smiles down at you the faintest hints of tears pool in his eyes before he closes them and shakes his head. "I told you." Your better self tells you to scream and run, but you continue to stand in awe. He reaches out to cup your cheek, but you can feel no sensation of touch, only a coolness in the air where his hand should be making contact with your face.

"You're a ghost?" You ask, your voice quivering not out of fear, but out of a deep sense of melancholy. "Is that why...”

"Everything that you see here tonight is so perfect, as you put it. This is my home, for tonight..." He leans forward as if to press his forehead to yours. "Cher, you have no idea the things that I would do to you if only I could, but I can't..." Your breath hitches as you feel the cool air against your forehead, sighing as your hands reach out into nothingness.

"No..." You sob. In that moment you're supposed to feel terrified, you know unequivocally that not only do ghosts exist, but the man you've come to love is a ghost himself. But you're not afraid, in fact, fear is one of the furthest emotions from your mind as you stand there with the man who would have been your lover.

"Tomorrow I'll be gone dear..." His words are velvety, the undeniable sense of longing echoing through them. "For another year..."

"I can wait." You say, your voice holding firm determination. "I can wait for you, next year...I'll be here...I'll..." He holds his hand up as if to silence you.

"No cher, no. I will not have you waste this earthy life waiting on a man who can never love you the way that you deserve to be loved. Can't you see that there is no future here? Never can I touch you, hold you...give you a familly..." You look away from him.

"I don't care Alastor!" Your words spill from your mouth with a hint of defiance. "You don't understand, I've never met another human being, living or dead, who makes me feel like I feel with you. Who makes me feel like I'm normal, like I can be somebody..." He smiles down at you, his expression betraying a fondness that grows deeper by the minute.

"And I've never in my entire existence met a woman who I desired to love, so I suppose we're even, aren't we?" He laughs, tilting his head.

"So, if I, if I were..." His expression changes to one of concern, though his smile never fully left.

"No. You mustn't even think that way my dear." He murmurs. "You have no idea what you're asking for..."

"I'm asking to be with you." You say, your voice quivering. "There's nothing for me here, in this life. Nothing. You're all I've ever wanted, you're what I've been waiting on for so long. Alastor...please..." You whisper, contemplating how you could end things, just end things and be with him.

"I'm in Hell, darling." His words were soft, but blunt. You looked up into his eyes.

"You're..."

"A Sinner." He says, a few strands of his auburn hair falling from his face. "And I wouldn't wish this Hell on you, no matter how much I want to be with you." You look up at him, your eyes searching his. "And believe me, you don't know what I'm capable of, I could be the most brutal, manipulative person you've ever met. You don't know that side of me, and I don't want you to." He moves away from the door and lies down on the couch, looking up at the celling. "I've done terrible things cher, and I wish that I could say I regret them, but I don't."

"Al..." You say as you wander closer to him. "I don't care who or what you were, I see you now, and that's what I want." He turns to look at you, his smile widening a bit.

"Mmm... Such lovely words my dear." He closes his eyes and places his arm over his face. "Keep talking to me." You inch closer, leaning against the couch, looking down at his form.

"I want to be with you, to love you for all eternity..." You say as you lower yourself onto what should be his body, only feeling cool air surrounding you as you feel the couch rise up to meet you. You rub your face into the cushion, eyes closed. "I love you Alastor." For a moment there is silence before you hear those four words, those four words that mean more than he could ever begin to understand.

"I love you too." You take a deep breath, as if trying to breathe him into your lungs.

"Let me just lie here, just for a bit." You murmur.

"Alright."

* * *

After what feels like an hour or so you open your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the dim light. Alastor stands over you, his expression one of quiet contemplation.
"It's time to go." He says softly. You sit up, you don't want your time with him to end, but you have a feeling that if you linger here the whole house might disappear and leave you stranded in the swamp.

"I guess I should call an Uber...I..." You begin, but he holds his hand up to stop you.

"Oh my dear, do not bother with such trivial things. You know my secret, at least let me give you a demonstration of my powers." His face seems to light up with a mischievous glint.

"Just close your eyes..." You do so nervously, afraid that if you opened them you'd be terrified of what you'd find. You wait for a few long minutes before you hear him laugh.

"It's alright dear, you can open them." When you do you're shocked for a moment, you look at the vast waters before you. Lake Pontchartrain.

"How'd we..." You begin, but decide against saying any more.

"I trust you can call your cab more easily from the park here, no?" He says as he stands at the edge of the walkway looking out over the waters.

"Yeah..." You say as you stand beside him, gazing out into the distance.

"You carry your pain with such grace." He says softly. "Sometimes I wish I didn't mask mine behind my smile."

"I wish I was as stoic as you." You mumble. A moment passes before you look up to him. "I promise your secrets are safe with me. What happened tonight, between us..." He shakes his head.

"Well, I doubt anyone would believe you, but the sentiment is appreciated."

"You know." You say, as you look up to him, the morning sun starting to catch on the golden rims of his glasses. "Whatever happens in my life, wherever I go, whatever becomes of me..." You trail off as you see the sun's rays hit his form, his body shifting, his hazel eyes turning a deep red. "Somewhere deep inside..." He turns to you, his hair falling into a brilliant red bob as he does so, its strands catching the sunlight and glowing as if on fire."I'll always be standing here with you." He shakes his head and his glasses disappear, deer-like ears spring forth from his head alongside a pair of dark antlers. "That version of you, will always exist in my heart."

"That version of me..." His voice comes in a static rasp as he stands before you, leaning down and looking you in the eye, his pupils narrowing into cat-like slits. "Is gone." He grins once again, his mouth now full of yellowed fangs, his once fragrant body now smelling of leather, smoke, and something far too terrible to describe, you avert your gaze. "Look at me." He says softly. "Look at the man you claim to love." You look back up at him, his pupils dilate as your eyes meet. "What do you see then, hmm? You see your love for what he truly is, a monster. All of the ugliness of sin on full display for you." He stands straight again, you realize that he now towers over you. "Go and live your life. Forget about this night. Forget about the person who I once was, but can never again be."

"No." You say, your voice soft and gentle. "If it means waiting a lifetime and suffering the punishments of Hell then I'll wait." His ear flicked at your words, angling to listen more intently as he stared out across the lake. "For you. I'll wait." He turns and looks at you again.

"Perhaps one day." He pauses before continuing. "If you choose to remember me, let it be how I was. Not this." He runs his hand through his hair, gliding his fingertips across one of his antlers and flattening an ear before lowering his hand back to his side. "Not this."

"How you were." The both of you stand and gaze across the waters before you speak again. "I love you Alastor."

"I love you too, my dear." You close your eyes at his words, taking a deep breath and laughing a bit to yourself.

"Hey..." You open your eyes and turn towards him, but all you see is the lake stretching out before you, its endless waters rolling in the morning breeze.

* * *

You called your Uber and rather than asking to be taken back to your Air B&B you asked to be dropped off at St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. You meander amongst the white graves that rise from the cemetery towering over you, desperately looking for where you met Alastor the night before. You do your best to retrace your steps, running your hand along the crypts as you hope that fate will guide you where you needed to be. You glance upwards and see the light fixed to the post and a spark of recognition hits you. You pick up your pace, nearly sprinting over to the gravestone with the black XXX's scrawled on it. You stop, looking up at it with wide, reverent eyes. 'ALASTOR HARTFELT - BORN JANUARY 1ST 1900, DIED NOVEMBER 10TH 1933'. You lean forward, placing your forehead and the palms of your hands on the cool marble in front of you.

"Oh Alastor..." You whisper. You feel like your world is falling out from underneath you, as if the ground itself might open up and swallow you whole. For a fleeting moment you don’t really care, in fact the call of the abyss is as alluring as it is frightening. You take a deep breath, leaning back, your fingers leaving the surface of your lover’s grave. Your heart is heavy as you walk towards the cemetery gates. You dread the conversations to come with Emily and her friends, their frivolous banter about the lovers they took over the course of the night. They’ll ask you of course, and you’ll keep your head down in shame.

As you meander along the city streets something hits you, you want to return to Alastor’s house, even if he’s not there, you had to know it was real, you needed something, a photo, anything. You swallow hard as you anticipate having to ask Emily to drive you there. As you pull out your phone to text her you bite your lip.

‘Hey Em, are you guys awake yet? I need you to give me a ride.’ You almost bump into a lamp post as you gaze down at your phone. Sent. Read. The conversation bubble pops up as she texts you back.

‘Yeah, sure, we were getting worried about you. You must have had quite a night.’ You frowned before texting back.

‘Something like that. Anyway, can you come pick me up at the corner of Toulouse and Royal?’ You text back quickly. ‘I need a ride somewhere.’

‘Yeah, just hold on.’ With that you lean against the corner building and gaze at the art galleries in front of you. The city was quiet, filthy, the smell of piss and alcohol hung in the air like an ever present miasma. The streets were still littered with beads and plastic cups from the night before, some were caught up in the wind and tumbled about. You figured most people were at home, nursing a hangover. You didn’t exactly know how you’d explain wanting to go out in the middle of nowhere to Emily, as you find yourself lost in thought you see her car pull around the corner. She waves at you and you slide into the passenger seat.

“Damn, you look like you haven’t slept at all.” She muses. You roll your eyes.

“I haven’t.” At your statement she grins from ear to ear.

“Ooooh! Who is he then? That must be why you need a ride huh? To go see him again?” She nudges your arm, your hand goes up to rub where she touched you.

“Kind of he uh, he gave me his address…” You say as you place your phone in the holder suctioned to the windscreen. “It’s a little bit out...if that’s okay.” You say nervously. Emily chuckles.

“It’s not a bother at all, after all, you needed a man to set things straight.”

* * *

As the city disappears into the bayou you gaze out, your eyes half lidded. Everything looks different in the daylight and you’re beginning to wonder if you’d even recognize Alastor’s house if you were to see it. Emily hums.

“He lives a good bit out huh?” Her voice takes on an almost nervous tone. “What was his name?” You lift your head, looking at her in a slightly dazed manner.

“Alastor.”

“Alastor?” She scoffs, “That’s a weird name. Old timey.” She pauses for a beat. “But so are you I guess…” She trails off as the GPS indicates that the destination is ahead. You sit up rigidly in your seat.

“Pull over.” You say nervously. Emily does as you ask looking around in a confused manner.

“Um, are you sure this guy wasn’t just playing you for a fool…” You don’t let her finish before you’re out of the car and pushing through the foliage. “Wait!” Emily calls as you hear her coming up behind you, her feet squishing into the moist earth. You pause just long enough for her to catch up. “Fuck.” She mumbles looking down at her Uggs, she reaches behind her with the car keys and locks the car with a beep.

“Just ahead, Em…” You say, your breath growing heavier as you point towards the silhouette of a house in the swamp.

“That’s….abandoned.” Emily says. Your breath hitches as you turn back to the house, realizing that she’s right. The back half of the house has fallen in, timber pointing up out of the swamp like jagged teeth. The front was still intact, however, and that’s all you needed. You whip out your phone and snap a photo. Emily stares at you, her eyes widening. “What are you…” She doesn’t have time to finish before you’re pushing past the vines and onto the porch.

“Come on.” You say softly, holding them for her to safely pass beneath.

“Shit…” She mutters as she joins you. “This thing could slide off into the swamp and take us with it, you….” You push through the front door as she mutters to herself.

For a moment you just stand there. It is just as you remember it, but a hundred years worth of Louisiana summers has destroyed much of what was once a cozy interior.

“Just how drunk were you?” Emily asks nervously. “Did you two….here?” You ignore her and rummage around on the remnants of what once was furniture, looking for anything that might be evidence of a life once lived. Everything you touch falls apart in your hands, long since victim to damp. You curse.

“I think we should go.” Emily finally speaks up.

“Just a minute!” You didn’t intend on it coming out as harshly as it did, but it was enough to shut Emily off her moaning momentarily. You go over to the desk that you remember holding papers and a lamp. The desk is all that’s left, you yank the drawer out which falls to the ground with a thud. You see something flash, like light reflected off of a prism. You squat and inspect the glimmer. It’s an extra pair of glasses. Alastor’s glasses. You snatch them up, your breath hitching. They are rusted, their once golden rims now a dull brown, but you couldn’t care less. They were his. You turn to Emily, trying to reign in your emotions.

“Alright Em, I’m ready to go.”

* * *

As the midwestern autumn drifted into a frigid winter you kept to yourself as you usually did. You’d talked to your parents about perhaps going to college down in Louisiana, telling them that your trip had lit a fire beneath you. They were pleased with this rather unexpected turn. You were going to major in early 20th century history. Emily moved away during winter break, she got an apartment in Chicago with Jennifer. You’d send her a Christmas card, but expected no response. You put your two weeks notice in at the grocery store, and made a down payment on a car with the money you’d saved up.

Most nights you’d lie in bed, holding Alastor’s glasses tightly to your chest. You’d had them cleaned as best as you could, small flecks of gold still visible underneath the wear of time. You’d close your eyes and you were right there again, in his house, in his city, in his world. One day, you mused, you’d be with him for eternity. You sighed, knowing that he wanted better for you.

You roll out of bed, stretching in your woolen jumper before glancing out at the snowdrifts piling around your house. You stood and padded over to your desk, above your computer hung a wall calendar. You flipped it open, finding next year. Reaching down and grabbing a red marker you circled OCTOBER 31st.