The Last Stop

There’s something about a train that calms me even on this glum Halloween night. I remember when my childhood revolved around the holiday. Unspoken magic once wove its way into creating costumes and decorating. But the wonder is gone, pilfered by adult obligations. Today, when I feel all alone on this train, I yearn for proof that the magic still lingers.

It was another soul-draining workday. I was the only one in the office dressed up, donned in my favorite childhood movie costume, Dread Pirate Roberts. Everyone thought I was Zorro. The joy of All Hallows Eve didn’t prevent hostile emails and mind-numbing meetings from occurring. I stayed late to finish a project, but after ten hours of abuse, I shut down my computer and walked through the brisk autumn air, baptized in its earthy smell.

“There’s nothing sweeter than the glazed candy of Halloween nightmares,” said Rodrigo, the man who sat outside the downtown train station. He handed me a jack-o’-lantern made from orange recyclables.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the pumpkin.

“But don’t unpack your suitcase, cause you’re only passing through,” said Rodrigo.

“Well, happy Halloween, Rodrigo. See you tomorrow.”

The passenger car seemed emptier than on most workdays, and the few taciturn commuters aboard rested their heads and slept. By the time we left the city, the pumpkin sun had fallen, giving passage to a ghostly moon. I felt lonely and abandoned, as if everyone had forgotten my birthday. Once I’d arrive home, I’d have time for dinner, followed by a shower before bedtime. Another workday awaited, filled with dull horrors. It was during this glum realization, when the lights on the train flickered and a brassy crash followed by a frigid gale woke me from my lament.

The gangway connection door opened, and she looked as if she floated in. A sable-haired woman in a black period Venetian gown with tangerine trim fought to squeeze her costume through the tiny entrance. She wore a crown of naked branches festooned with marigolds, and a collar neckband dangling with onyx. The woman strode down the dividing aisle, scrutinizing her prospects as she looked for a worthy seat. She stopped in the cart’s center where I stared out the window.

“Dread Pirate Roberts?” she asked. This striking woman addressing me, let alone guessing my costume, surprised me.

“Um, yeah,” I said. “You’re the first one to get it right.”  

“Guess what I am?” she asked, brow raised with high expectations.

“The, uh…Halloween Queen?”

She smiled. “Very good.”

I couldn’t tell if she meant it, but her smile suggested my answer pleased her.

“May I sit?” she asked.

“Sure.” I moved my computer bag over, placing it under my seat.

“Are you going trick-or-treating?”

“Um, no. I don’t have kids.”

“Who said anything about children? Don’t you like trick-or-treating?”

“Oh, I used to love it. My grandma took me from morning-to-night.”

“And what happened?”

“Grandma passed. I grew up, got a job.”

“Work shouldn’t impede one’s happiness.”

“So true,” I said.

“Go revel in Samhain. It comes but once a year.”

“Heh. Where would I go? I live in a fun-free zone, and don’t have friends these days.”

“You have me.”

“Yeah, um, I don’t even know your name.”

“Yes, you do. I’m the Halloween Queen.”

“Right.”

“Care to join me at the last stop? I’m on my way to a block party.”

“Sorry, I’m only a station away from home.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, folding her hands over her lap.

Only the rolling of train wheels broke the silence. My mind flipped over her invite. I wasn’t the sort of guy who leapt out of trains with strangers. But a peculiar insight took over me, one ascending a little higher on time’s tree. From its viewpoint, I saw a thousand tedious days ahead with little chance of adventure. So, before reason detested, my mouth blurted out the words.

“Um, okay,” I said. “I’ll go.”

“Wonderful,” she said.

Electricity galvanized my nerves as I watched our arrival at McHenry Station. The usual cement platform and plastic trashcan that welcomed me home appeared lonely under the dull fluorescent lamp. I imagined myself walking to my condo, uninspired and crestfallen. The prospect of experiencing something distinctive tonight, no matter how tired I’d be in the morning, kindled a boyish enthusiasm.

“It won’t be long now,” said the Halloween Queen.

“I thought there were four more stops?”

“It goes by quicker than you think,” she said. “Care for a sip?”

I failed to see the Halloween Queen unsheathe a round glass flask before she waved it under my nose. An amber liquid swirled inside. It smelled of cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg.

“Is this a magic potion?” I asked.

“Cider brandy for the nerves.”

“You think I’m scared?”

“Doing anything new is scary, but it’s also fun.”

“You’re an interesting creature,” I smiled, taking the bottle and tasting its contents. The brandy’s fruity flavor bit at the end.

“You have no idea.”

The Halloween Queen was right. The four stops flashed by, and I realized I’d been missing out on the most fascinating train stops. New Ravinia, Lake Bluff, Zion, and Winthrop Harbor celebrated Halloween as if they were part of a movie set. Parades, live music, and a masked ball lined the streets as we wheeled by. The Halloween Queen bobbed her head, watching out the window with a grin. Then, when the conductor mumbled that we’d reached our destination, the Halloween Queen escorted me from the cart. I noticed some of the other slumbering passengers wake and follow.

We entered the station blaring holiday music from my favorite comfort movies of old. The halogen lights shone a ghostly blue, but a line of plastic jack-o’-lanterns guided us through an outdated ticket office and into the streets. I glanced left and right as we arrived at the sidewalk, discovering rows of houses decorated with bright lawn ornaments and misty porches. Children and adults alike gathered in streets adorned in elaborate costumes to the sounds of laughter and playfully spooky sound effects. Had I wished for a Halloween dream, my imagination couldn’t compare to what lay before me.

“Um, wow,” I said.

“Do you like it?” asked The Halloween Queen.

“How did I never hear about this?”

“Life tries to hide the genuine wonders.”

“Not sure what you mean, but okay.”

“Forget it. Come, let us enjoy.”

Leaving the station, we turned left into a neighborhood with charming older homes. It shocked me how many smiles, tipped caps, and greetings I received as we melded into the crowd. It was as if everyone appreciated my presence, and we were all in on a shared secret. The Halloween Queen took me to our first house, where an old woman in a Victorian gown greeted us with a tray of glasses filled with apricot liquid.

“Good evening, Evaline,” said the Halloween Queen. “Your Hemlock Cocktails elevates you to the top of the visit list.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware we’d have royalty tonight,” said Evaline. “And who is your friend?”

“Oh, a visitor from a few stops off the train,” said the Halloween Queen.

“Hi,” I waved before sipping the Hemlock Cocktail.

“Well, Happy Halloween, young man,” said Evaline. “I think you’ll find that things here are a lot less troublesome than wherever you’re from.”

“McHenry,” I said.

“What a lovely name,” she smiled. “Happy Halloween, McHenry.”

“Come, we have many houses to visit,” the Halloween Queen tugged at my arm.

We walked down the porch stoop, following the cobblestone path to the sidewalk. The fragrance of old clothes and candy mixed as we wedged through the gathering. Masked children chased one another, weaving between costumed adults who bobbed for apples in a pool of red wine. We closed in around the lip of the vast pool, watching people dip their faces.

“Man, they’re living it up,” I said.

“Do you realize the reason for their merriment?” asked the Halloween Queen.

“Judging by these houses, they have money,” I said.

“Ha,” the Halloween Queen chortled. “I assure you they do not keep money.”

“Then why?”

“They delight in simple pleasures instead of trivial concerns.”

“Yeesh, in this world? How do they manage?”

“They take the dive.”

The Halloween Queen peeled my mask off, then pushed my head down into the wine. I tried coming up, but then, hearing the drowned cheers from above, opened my mouth and searched for a Honeycrisp. My face hit several apples before my teeth found their mark, biting into the sweet flesh of a Granny Smith. I raised my head from the wine, lifting my hands in victory. The crowd applauded as I braced the apple with my hand and crunched into it.

“Well done,” said the Halloween Queen. “Come. There are people to meet.”

The Halloween Queen handed me a spider-patterned handkerchief for my wet face, then handed me my mask, which I eagerly put on. She guided me to a beautiful white colonial home with a life-size Headless Horseman statue on its lawn. We ascended the front porch, and a goose sculpture wearing a tricorn hat greeted us.

“My grandma grew up in Sleepy Hollow,” I said. “She said there was no place better to celebrate Halloween, but I’m thinking she may be wrong.”

“Perhaps,” said the Halloween Queen, ringing the doorbell. “Perhaps not.”

The door opened, and a woman with auburn hair curled in victory rolls stepped out with a tray of blood-red drinks. She wore a green ditsy floral lapel dress with Oxford two-toned shoes and kept a set of plastic vampire fangs in her mouth and two puncture marks across her neck. My heart skipped a beat. Although this woman was ten years younger than I, I could tell by the shape of her face, her slight hunch, and her wrinkled nose-smile that this was my grandmother, Irene.

“Well, hotdog,” said my grandmother. “If it isn’t the Halloween Queen.”

“Hello, Irene,” said the Halloween Queen. “You look lovely.”

“Who’s the beanpole?” asked my grandmother.

“This one?” asked the Halloween Queen. “Oh, he’s from a few train-stops away.”

“Ah, well welcome stranger,” said my Grandmother. “I’m sure you’ll see that things are a lot less troublesome around here than wherever you come from. Anyhow, care for a drink?”

Grandma stretched out her tray and offered me a cocktail with bat-shaped ice. I tried to speak, but it was as if someone had stuffed feathers in my throat. The Halloween Queen noticed me and collected a pair of drinks for the two of us.

“Sorry, Irene,” said the Halloween Queen. He’s in awe of all the work the neighborhood puts into the block party.

“Isn’t it neato?” asked my Grandmother. “There’s no place better on Halloween.”

“Come, McHenry, time for us to leave,” said the Halloween Queen. “Need to get this one back on the train before he turns into a pumpkin, Irene.

My grandmother laughed as the Halloween Queen hooked her arm into mine and walked me back down the porch. My heart remained on my grandmother’s porch, but the Halloween Queen led me away. I felt warmth roll down my cheek.

“Are you alright?” asked the Halloween Queen. She offered me her spider handkerchief.

I was not alright.

“Wait, I’m confused,” I said. I went lightheaded, pausing on my grandmother’s lawn.

“You know what is happening. Your mind has caught up.”

“That’s my Grandma Irene. But it’s impossible. That woman is young, and she’s been dead for a decade.”

“You’re getting there.”

My inner voice drowned away outside thoughts as if it were speaking through a megaphone. The Halloween Queen, this town, the people—it all worked out like a math equation that I stumbled through to find its sum. My conclusion made little sense, but I knew it to be true.

“So, if she’s dead, but I’m here, then…” I paused.

“Finish the sentence,” the Halloween Queen said.

“Then, I’m already dead.”

“There we are.”

“Wait. I’m dead?”

“Well, you’re only mostly dead,” she smirked. “Do you not recall the train’s failing light and the loud kerfuffle?”

“The train crashed?”

“Only your cart. A Halloween prank gone wrong.”

“How?”

“The short of it is two boys on a dare disrupted the tracks. Your cart suffered from their ill-thought-out plot. Their actions will haunt those boys until they die, even if they remain uncaught.”

“So then,” numbness choked my fingers, but I waved them at the town. “What is all of this?”

“This is where the veil is thinnest.”

“So, like heaven?”

“In a manner of speaking. Thereafter isn’t puffy clouds and white robes.”

“Then what is it? Wait, more importantly, what now?”

Just then, a church bell rang from a distant tower, its sepulcher tone raising the wispy hairs on my neck. The people of town looked up, smiles softening into somber expressions. Nine low, brassy tintinnabulations resonated, their far-reaching echo bouncing off homes. The Halloween Queen tugged my arm.

“Come, it’s the ninth hour,” said the Halloween Queen. “We need to get you back home.”

“But I thought I was dead?” I asked.

“No, I said you were half-dead. There’s still a place for you.”

“Wait, no. I don’t want to go.”

The Halloween Queen squeezed me by my shoulders, her brows furrowed into a deep V, and her lips pressed into a tight line. “I know.”

Once again, my boots obeyed her despite my intentions. The people in town parted, bowing heads as we journeyed to the train station. I tried to barter with the Halloween Queen, but she stonewalled my pleas with a polite smile. We reached the station, cutting through the ticket office, with Monster Mash playing from the overhead speakers. A single train facing the downtown direction awaited with open doors. I walked aboard, its only passenger. A hiss from the train’s hydraulics raised my cart as the entrance signal chimed. The Halloween Queen smiled from the platform.

“Wait,” I said. “Why send me back if I’m destined to be here? I have nothing at home.”

“This place is not inevitable. And it’s not your home.”

The doors closed, and the train bucked forward. I watched with grief as the last stop faded away. The dead continued to revel in their lit-up parades, balls, and concerts, oblivious to my whittled soul passing by. I noticed the tunnel only at the very end. Darkness fell, then I followed.

I woke up in a hospital that looked more like a highway hotel with clean sheets, bad lighting, and bargain furniture. The staff, and their plastic smiles, kept reminding me I was lucky to be alive, but they did not know how criminal that sounded. I knew where I’d gone wasn’t a near-death delusion or fault of the mind. Somewhere across a sea of nothing, the last stop awaited, only accessible on Halloween night. And for a cruelly brief moment, I shared in their celebration.

My wounds healed faster than expected, and only a minute after stepping out of the hospital, I quit my job. I sold everything I owned for a pair of shoes with plenty of space for rocks. I stopped saying please to those who expected it and didn’t scare away from people claiming to be in charge. Maybe that newfound bravery was the Halloween Queen’s reason for my visit. Maybe she didn’t want to just rattle my cage. Perhaps she wanted to remind me that a life without meaning is like a house where nobody lives. And they call me mad, and they call me strange, but they can call me whatever they want. I don’t walk on burning tightropes anymore.

And every Halloween, Rodrigo and I collect orange recyclables from the trash and shape them round. We give them out in front of the downtown station to anyone who looks like they need them. We don’t know if anyone will go to the last stop, but we hope one way or another that they find its furtive magic. It’s not a place for everybody, but I’m crossing my fingers I’ll return someday. You see, for me, there’s nothing sweeter than the glazed candy of Halloween nightmares. For now, I’m just passing through.