Halloween was coming. The people in Goodharts were intensely preparing for another holiday which always brought goodwill and joy among children and grown-ups alike. Distractions from what was actually happening, Mrs. Cobbs had written in her journal.

Each year, Ferry accompanied his friends in calling at houses for trick-or-treating, and then they all retired to Lavender's where the holiday continued until midnight. The time of the shadows, as Lavender liked to call it. They were all indulging into the treats Lavender had prepared; they told funny stories about the world of humans or fae people, and they laughed. They laughed a lot, and the surrounding hills were filled with laughter. Now, their laughter had wandered among the hills, scattering far, far away, then vanished altogether.

This year, everything was different. Matilda and Shadow had some training to do, so she couldn't come. Rosemary and Lavender were cleaning the house for the fall with the help of Ferry's mother. So did Parsley with the garden. And Ferry could swear he saw his mother crying in front of the fireplace, one evening, with Lavender comforting her. She had pretended that she was just tired, then had retired to her room. Ferry had learned later it was because of Peter, of course. There was this news in town that Mrs. Jones sometimes visited him and even stayed overnight.

As for Thyme... Something was missing between them; Ferry couldn't put a finger on it. His guardian always seemed worried, glum, confused. There were hard times in Akna, he said.The training didn't work well, either. Ferry couldn't or wouldn't reveal his fairy nature. And that night, things took an even worse turn.

Ferry was training in the back of Lavender's cottage when Thyme appeared beside him out of nowhere. He threw a small sack into Ferry's hands, without saying a word. Ferry put the wooden spear aside and opened the sack. Inside, there were his gloves from Lavender.

"You should be more careful," said Thyme without even looking at him.

Ferry put on the gloves with tense moves. "Are you spying on me now?"

Thyme laughed bitterly, "I don't have to. As soon as I saw you with her, I knew something was going to happen. Something not good."

Ferry felt his fingertips tickling. "What are we doing today?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Today, we're going totry to move things from the distance without touching them."And Thyme took out of his long coat, with many pockets, a small long-necked glass bottle which he placed on a log in front of them. A substance in different shades of purple slowly moved in spirals and circles like in a slow waltz.

"What is this?" Ferry asked, unable to take his eyes off the bottle.

Thyme slowly pushed him in front of it.

"It's a sleeping fluid for fairies. Sometimes, even fairies need to sleep. And when they can't, they use that. It is enough to look at this bottle for a few seconds and feel sleepy. But that's not why we're here now. Now, you must try to lift it into the air only with the power of your mind."

Ferry thought he didn't hear well, "How should I do that?" he asked.

Thyme raised his hand and his fingers tightened like a claw.

"First, you need to focus on. Then, look at the object you want to move. Then, you must gather all your energy and point it to the desired object."

And as he said that, Thyme moved his hand like in a dance, and the bottle slightly rose above the log, floating in the air. Then, by the same movements, the bottle was again placed on the log.Ferry did the same. He concentrated so much, he felt his head aching. But the bottle refused to move.

"Try to direct the heatwave from your body through your hand and turn it into energy that moves the flask," he could hear Thyme's slightly irritated voice.

Ferry focused again. He felt the heat wave embracing him, but not because of the magic, but rather because he held his breath. But in vain. The bottle did not flinch.

"Maybe if you didn't think about her so much, you could focus."

Ferry gave up. "Why are you against May?" he asked, looking at his guardian straight in the eye.

"I'm not against her," Thyme said calmly. "But you are careless when she's around. This can be dangerous for you. Imagine what would have happened if the gloves were in foreign hands. If anyone came close without you realizing..."

"It's not her fault," Ferry raised his voice. Why does everyone have something against her?"

"Nobody has anything against her. Rosemary knows her best and has only words of praise for her. But you should have your mind on something else. It may not be the most important thing for you right now," said Thyme softly. "There are many other things, more important."

"But why?" Ferry argued.

"Because your destiny is different. It cannot be tied to hers. Nor hers to yours. She's a mortal."

"So what? It shouldn't be that complicated."

Thyme seemed to lose his patience, "You don't understand, do you?" he said, clenching his fists. "What are you expecting? Make her your wife? Live here? Will she wait for you with a hot meal when you return from the factory?"

"No, I— actually, I haven't thought about it..." Ferry muttered.

"Or maybe you want to take her to Akna," continued Thyme just as stirred up. "Make her your Queen? What do you expect, Garrett?"

Ferry felt his whole body tense. A strange warmth in his chest spread all over his body.

"Nothing!" he shouted and turned to the bottle on the log. With a short move, he raised his hand and, without knowing how, the bottle broke into dozens of pieces under their astonished eyes.Ferry pulled out a shout of joy. He looked at Thyme, and couldn't tell whether there was pride or concern in his eyes.

*

Ferry wasn't waiting for Halloween like he used to. He had promised Ben he would accompany him for trick-or-treat. Ben was going as an older brother, joining the youngest of his sisters, Bianca.

The shadows were already spreading over the town when the two friends met. For the past years, they haven't worn costumes, considering themselves too old for that. Now, Ben's sister was dressed as a fox, a costume made by her mother.

The streets were full of children, of colors, of monsters, and ghosts. There was laughter, giggling, and loud voices that were meant to be scary. Older children, those who were still children at heart, followed the cheers and the show of costumes from the sides. Children who no longer considered themselves children, and preferred to be called teenagers, had other occupations. The boys followed the girls they liked from the distance, hoping they would at least get one look from them. Others, such as Billy Pride and his group, chose to playcheats or laugh at others.

Ferry wasn't spared of his mockery, either, "Are you supposed to be a nanny, orphan?" Billy laughed. "Oh, sorry, you already have a mask. You don't need a disguise, anyway."

Ferry was so tired of Billy. He wished he could try his new power on Billy and throw him around with one hand. But he knew he couldn't do that in front of everyone. Yet it wasn't Billy who caught his attention. He felt Andrew's gaze, who was a few steps behind Billy. He looked different. Thinner, weaker. He didn't even look that tall anymore. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. They glittered as he watched Ferry with that strange glow. What did this weird boy want from him? Didn't he already have it all? Ben gestured for Ferry to move away from Billy's loud group.

Ferry listened to his friend; his thoughts were somewhere else, anyway. He knew from Ben who knew from Steph that May wasn't taking part in Halloween this year. She had to work at the flower shop, she said. And Steph wanted to stay home and study; she considered the Halloween holiday useless, anyway - an opportunity for children to dress up and pretend to be someone they were not and a business occasion for marketers to make some extra money.

Ferry's mind was set to the years when they were still children and when the costumes really meant something. When the candy had the best taste. When Matilda wouldn't stop laughing and giggling. When he and May were smiling at each other, away from the eyes of others. When everything was simple and beautiful.

From time to time, Ben's sister searched in the bag where she collected the sweets, and which turned more swollen with each house they visited. They were now in the center of town. It wasn't long before the shops would close, and the streets would breathe the night air, deserted. Ben didn't seem to enjoy the night either. He told his sister they only had five houses left to visit; Bianca muttered something in return.

"You always spoil everyone's mood, Ben," she snorted. "Now, when it's getting interesting."

"What do you mean?" Ben asked.

"That ghost," she said, pointing to a white figure hiding behind the trees. "She's been following us for half an hour and you didn't even notice."

Ferry looked in the direction Bianca showed and saw a thin figure, wearing a white feather mask that covered its face. They carried on, watching behind them. The figure followed, hidden behind the trees on the side of the street. After two more houses, Ferry and Ben convinced themselves the white ghost was indeed following them. They sped up, and the ghost did the same. They crossed on the other side of the street, trying to lose themselves among the groups of children. But the white ghost didn't give them a break.

They entered a side alley where the light of the street lamps scarcely reached. They remained hidden in a house's shadow near which they found shelter. Ferry looked down the street, but the white figure had disappeared.

"I don't see it," whispered Ben. "Where did it go?"

"Right here," they heard a girl's voice behind them. All three of them jumped, their hearts beating to break their chests.

The white figure came out of the shadow and took off the mask. It was Celia.

"You should've seen your faces," she said with a laugh.

Ferry snapped. He was not in the mood for Celia's teasing. "What is it, Celia? Were you bored at your fancy party and now you want to have some fun?"

"I don't want to have fun," she said, turning serious. "But you are right, the party was quite boring. Can I come with you?"

"Sure," Ben rushed to answer; he left the alley with Celia beside him. Ferry and Bianca followed.

"So? How come you are alone?" Celia asked Ben. "I don't see any witch hanging on you. Where's your girlfriend?"

Ben stopped on his way, "Look," he said, looking her in the eyes, this time, "if you want to talk behind somebody's back, you didn't find the right people," he added, then set off with a determined pace.

Celia followed, barely keeping up with him. "I'm sorry," she softly said. "I promise I'll behave. I'll be the nicest girl in the world. But please, let me come with you, Ben," she begged. "With you all, I mean," she added.

Ben looked at her, curiously. Ferry observed Celia's eyes. They were red and swollen.

Eventually, Ben gave in. "You can come with us," he gently said. "They aren't many houses left."

Ben's sister slipped past the boys and took Celia by the hand. She smiled, and they both walked in front of them. Celia noticed how admiringly the little girl was looking at her; she even searched her bag and took out a candy.

"You are very beautiful," said Bianca, offering her the candy.

Celia stopped. She looked at the little girl, and her big eyes filled with tears. Then she hugged her, without saying anything.

The boys watched the scene, looked at each other, not knowing what to think of it.

"You are thousand times more beautiful," Celia said and took the candy. Then, she took her mask off and gave it to Bianca. They started again, jolting among the passers-by. The boys followed them, shrugging.

"Are you sure you won't get bored with us?" asked Ben when they reached a new house and stopped for trick-or-treating.

"With such a fine company?" Celia smiled. "I'm with a Knight, an Elf, and the most beautiful little girl in the world. How could I?"

Ben blushed, and couldn't say anything.

Their group, curious at first sight, was now animated by laughter and good cheer. They arrived near the fountain in the center of the town. Suddenly, the groups around began to fluster. In their midst, a black figure pushing a wheelchair. Widow Jones and her daughter. The girl, dressed entirely in black as her mother, wore a strange cap and sunglasses. The two were different from all the others even so.

They all stopped in place, making room for them to pass.

"I heard one of the women in the kitchen saying Mrs. Jones's daughter is sensitive to light," Celia whispered to them. "Besides the fact that she's an invalid, poor thing. I think her mother neglects her. Instead of going home after work, she prefers to visit--"

And Celia stopped on time, biting her lip. Ferry knew what she meant - she preferred to visit his father. To visit the house his mother loved and cherished so much.

On the other side of the street, Mrs. Jones left the wheelchair in front of the grocery store and entered. People were coming closer. They hadn't the opportunity to see Aneight Jones up close too often.

Ferry had an idea. "Wait here," he told the others, crossing the street to the grocery store.

"Ferry, what are you doing?" he heard Ben behind him.

Ferry came closer to the wheelchair. He observed the girl's face. He noticed her old lace dress, her thick coat chewed by moths, and her dusty hat. Behind the smoky glasses, there was a pale face, heavily powdered. The hair was as black and glossy as heating oil. Her white, bony hands rested on her lap, over the rough plaid blanket that covered her legs. The girl dangled her head, humming a song.

Ferry leaned toward her. "Ann," he said, "my name is Ferry. Do you need help?"

The girl carried on with her song. Where did he hear that song before?

"Ann..." he tried again. He touched her thin, cold hands. His touch made her stop from singing, and she raised her head towards him. Even behind the dark lenses, he could see she was watching him. With a gentle gesture, he tried to remove her glasses. He only wanted to see his eyes.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" a voice barked behind him. Mrs. Jones got out of the grocery store and headed toward the wheelchair. She pushed it, throwing venomous glances around.

Ferry had no choice but to return to his friends. The show was over, anyway.

"Let's go home," he told them.

They took Ben's sister home, after a glorious evening full of sweets; it was Ben's turn to offer to take Celia home, an invitation the girl accepted gladly. Ferry said goodbye to them all, then,decided to wait for a little while before going home. He didn't want to meet Thyme again.

People scattered to their homes and the town was now preparing for rest. Ferry loved the quiet of the town when everyone was sleeping, without having any idea about the big things that happened while they were dreaming.

He could now fly freely and observe the town below as he pleased. In the light of the street lamps, a lonely silhouette was still wandering at that late hour. Andrew.

From above the trees, flying lightly as if he wasn't even there, he continued to watch Andrew. He was heading home. Ferry's home. He missed his home, though he didn't want to admit it. He missed the walnut tree with its rich shadow, the swing which lifted him to the sky, the swollen sheets and the fresh scent they scattered around.

Andrew slowed down his pace, walking bent over as if an old man who was barely carrying his age. After a while, he stopped and leaned against a tree on the roadside. A strong cough shook his body. His palm stuck to his chest, as if he was struggling to breathe, Andrew snuck against the tree and continued his way, barely dragging his feet.

After seeing Andrew going inside the house immersed into darkness, Ferry slowly descended in the front garden. The weeds and untrimmed bushes had taken over the flower garden, so dear to his mother. Ferry easily snuk into the backyard. He just wanted to see his walnut tree. But the sight in front of his eyes petrified him. The whole backyard was torn up. Holes of all sizes had been dug everywhere. The swing's rope was broken, and now it hung like a flagpole torn down by a raging storm. His walnut tree, now without leaves, looked like an old man with bare arms, left trembling in the wind, forgotten. Ferry felt a lump in his throat. He left his lost heaven with a heavy heart.

So this is the Halloween special chapter. A bit late, I know. But I hope you'll enjoy it just as much ;)