HumpDay Quickie: Trick Or Treat Edition

Posted: November 2, 2016 in Bonus Post
Tags: , , , ,

The Costume
by Rebekah Postupak

I’m dressing for Halloween, getting my shimmer on.

“Looking good,” says Shen, but my roommate’s not actually looking at me. Amir’s coming over in an hour. They’re going as Barack and Michelle and will be handing out “Please Vote!” stickers. Cute.

My eyes are larger now, emerald, with gold specks and sultry long lashes. Shen will be gone by the time I’m done. She won’t see that they also glow in the dark. She never sees me anyway.

Not really.

“You coming to the party?” Shen asks.

“What party?” It’s a joke; I know what party she means, the big one that requires tickets and nepotism, neither of which I have. Maybe she’ll invite me.

When hell freezes over, I’m thinking.

Shen laughs, twirling in her one-shoulder inauguration white. “You’re so weird,” she says.

I’m working on my hood now, pulling and stretching black skin tight over my head. The pain almost feels good, liberating in a way that the other 364 days of loneliness can’t match. Soon my landfill-colored mop of hair, my acne-bombarded skin have vanished. Shen’s mirror tells me I look sleeker. Exotic.


The slamming door is my only clue she’s gone; Amir must have texted from downstairs. Shen’s a thoughtful person, normally, volunteering at shelters, donating blood and the like; but she doesn’t know what to do with me. I don’t blame her.

I don’t know what to do with myself, either.

Darkness floods the city: at last I am ready. In the street are a peanut butter-and-jelly pair, a clown and a Freddie, a whoever-the-latest-Disney-princess-is, all chattering away, cramming their mouths and hearts in comforting sugared bliss.

They don’t see me balancing on the balcony.

They don’t see me stretching out my wings, plunging into the air, soaring over their ordinary, oblivious heads.

They don’t hear me, now a mile, five miles, fifty miles up, roaring my freedom among the stars, dancing with Casseopeia, dodging Orion, wrestling serpents with Ophiuchus.

And they won’t see me tomorrow, either, when Halloween is over and I wrench my cursed, outcast human costume back on.

But oh, for one brief moment–

one beautiful, perfect moment–

I shimmer.


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