Hollow's Eve

Short story I wrote for class, ended up being the inspiration for my screenplay It Was Warmer Then. Written 14 Oct. 2024

It wasn’t until I heard the muffled doorbell and a gasp of “Oh, welcome my dear Bosie!” that made me think twice about just who else Ellis had invited to his damned Halloween party.  A party I hadn’t even wanted to go to.  A decent bribe might make me reconsider, but otherwise I take every precaution to not get caught up in throngs of people who are high in spirits and even higher on substances, enclosed in spaces where it’s either booming bass notes of the latest pop junk or the constant buzz of non-stop chatter.  The sudden downpour was just an added deterrent that made up my mind for me to stay in.  

Let it be known that the odds are ever against my favour.  

 I take a sip of my obviously spiked punch, and grimace.  Coercion goes a long way, apparently.  Screw Ellis and his sweet-talking, guilt-tripping, sister-dating a*s.  He at least had enough grace to tell me that I could borrow one of his spare costumes after seeing how underdressed I was.  Band tee and jeans.  Whatever.  You’d find me in hell before I ever get into whatever he’d want me to wear.

I’d curse him out more, but my thoughts and attention were being dragged away.  Not by our lovely host.  It was the man he was welcoming in, and with oozing delight.  It’s infuriating, really.  There was just a magnetism that drew others to him, whether or not you wanted to be.  He had a certain enigmatic charm, and god d****t if he uses it well.  I doubt he even tries.

He’s giddy, our fashionably late newcomer, making small talk and laughing with Ellis, who’s trying to take his coat for him.   If it’s to spite me, he’s done it well; my old trench hangs off his shoulders, soaked with rain.  He reveals his outfit underneath without a hurry, glimpses of satin and velvet, trims of lace, ruffles deliberately crinkled.  The hem is inches away from dragging on the floor, protected from a slowly forming puddle by elegant platform boots.  It forms a circle around him almost, like a barrier.  Untouchable.  I scoff at that.  He’s never been touchable.  

The next thing I realise is the flitting glance he throws my way, staking me in place.  Because of course.  He knew I’d be here.  He knew I’d be watching for him.  He knew I was watching him.  He knew I was taking in his presence.  He knew I was soaking it up, letting it sink in, being blotted out, wiped away, isolated, smothered-  

I tear my gaze away from his with a visible grimace, and I swear the corner of his mouth curls up into a sneer.  Full of contempt, yet void of feeling.  Dead.

It’s over as quick as it happened.

Maybe it never happened at all.  

“Hey, Captain,” a voice calls from my right.  I startle, gripping my drink with such intensity that its contents threaten to spill out.  The plastic creases audibly as I notice the young man sidle up next to me, and I fidget when concern creeps into his brow.  

“Didn't mean to startle you, sorry.  You alright-”  I nod eagerly, cutting him off with a wave.  Ignoring the adrenaline that scoured through me, I feign a laugh. 

“Y-yeah!  No worries, I just,” A brief pause as an unwanted reminder stabs through my next words: “I just didn’t think you’d be here, too.”  

His expression doesn’t change but I can see it in his eyes.  Bullshit, they say, albeit not unkindly.  

Despite his slacking performance on the team, Michael was a man of popular demand.  His brown curls were covered by his wizards hat for now, but his easy, almost crooked smile paired with the gaze of a hawk were the second sought after at our school.  

I don’t want to think of the first. 

The real reason behind his reputation however, was the fact that he knew how to get through to people.  Admiring him from a distance was one thing, but interacting with him was another.  You wouldn’t be able to hide anything from him.  There was nothing his eyes couldn't see, nothing he couldn’t figure out.  It would only be a cruel joke for him if he had dressed up as a certain famous detective.

Nonetheless, my eyes avert from his before I can stop myself, and I try to even out the folds of my cup as noiselessly as possible.  A futile attempt, the plastic slowly creaking back in place before ending with a popping crack.  He winces.  “Ooh, reminds me of that time I dislocated a joint… Heh, fitting for Halloween, I guess?” 

I’d laugh, but I knew Michael well enough to know that his jokes were only a deflection to ease the tension before getting me to speak.  Not that it works, but I force a tight-lipped smile anyway before agreeing.

"Right, like skeletons," I mumble half-heartedly, hoping that it’s enough to avoid any more probing questions.

His steel-blue eyes flicker in the glow of the lights as he studies me.  He doesn’t ask what I’m thinking, but I can tell he’s on the verge of it.  I should leave before he gets any closer to figuring that out.  He doesn’t need to know this.

Before either of us could speak, a booming laugh echoed from across the room.  It’s sonorous, a drawled bass made beautiful from years of training.  It cuts through the hubbub like a warmed knife through butter.  Heads turn, even mine, pulled in by such a sound.

A pity I now despise who it’s from.

He’s draped over Ellis as if he were the host and Ellis one of his attendants, not that the latter seems to mind.  A crowd grows around them, no one daring to get too close to such an ephemeral being, yet all wanting to bask in his wonder.

“Boseman’s here, huh?” Michael muses, almost absentmindedly.  He’s the only one who didn’t seem to turn.  I figured he knew enough about him to not be entertained.  But just how much did he know, that was enough to send a shiver down my spine.  

“So it seems,” I reply hastily, trying to settle my nerves.  They’re crawling, coiling into tight little balls.   It would be a miracle if he didn’t notice.

He does anyway, with a mere glance, because apparently nothing gets past Michael Wallander.  It’s what he says next that truly puts me on edge.

“You know each other, you and our lovely Oscar Boseman.”  I don’t think I can even pretend to hide my shock.  He blatantly ignores me, opting for sarcasm.  “At least, that’s what I’m seeing.”  

I falter finding the words to answer, even though it’s an obvious “yes”.  

We share a complicated history, one that most would only dare to speculate about, if they even knew.  

Oscar Boseman is an enigma, elusive and ineffable.  If one second of his attention was a divine gift, to become one with him, it was transcendence.  We revolved around him, like planets around the sun, held in his gravity.  His presence commanded us, as if we were stars in his orbit, royal subjects in his court.

He was everything we could want. Everything we could have.

And once, he was everything to me.

“We’ve crossed paths before,” I reply, too casually.  My eyes are downcast.  There’s no point trying to hide the truth from him.  He’d know anyway.  He always does.

Michael nods, his eyes never leaving my face.  The silence between us stretches awkwardly, yet there is an undertone of recognition in the way he looks at me.  He doesn’t push any further.  

“Everyone! I think it’s about time we kick things up a notch, yeah?”  A different voice rang out.  It’s Ellis this time.  I should be grateful, but something tells me that this night is only going to get worse.  Ellis has a certain command over crowds, especially ones that enjoy his antics.  There’s already a group moving towards him now, eager to see what he has in mind. 

“How about a game? A little something to… raise the stakes.”

My stomach sinks, and I swallow hard to keep my punch down.  I’ve known Ellis long enough to have heard about his “games”, notorious for how they’re always designed to test limits, push boundaries.  He gets off on making people uncomfortable, on forcing them into situations they don’t want to be in.  Avoiding that was another part of the reason I didn’t want to come to this party in the first place, but of course I couldn’t say that to him.  My eyes dart around, vying for any way to exit this without being noticed.  Little to none.

“Captain,” Michael says, catching my attention again.   His gaze is soft, understanding.  “You don’t look too thrilled about this.”

“No one should be,” I mutter, but my eyes are already drifting back to Ellis, and inevitably Oscar.  The latter is clearly watching me now, his dark eyes half-lidded, a faint smirk playing on his lips.  He knows what’s coming, and he’s enjoying it.  

A sharp clap of the hands from the host snaps me back. “Let’s make this simple.  A classic game… of truth or dare.  But!  Since it’s Halloween, we might as well add a twist, shouldn’t we?”  He grins, almost deviously.  I find myself recoiling in disgust at such a display.

“You don’t get to pick which one you want.  That’s up to me.”

If Oscar loved taking attention, Ellis loved taking control.  Really, they make such a great pairing.  The crowd gathers tighter, enveloping them in the center.  It’s all fun and games for them, always will be.  I dare to think of the kind of people they’d end up becoming after graduating.

I feel a nudge in my side, and turn to see Michael raise an eyebrow at me. “You in?” He asks, as if it needed to be.

I shake my head quickly, making a face in disgust. “Hell no.  I’m getting out of here.”  I don’t wait for a reply, turning to make an escape.

I can only clock it as a morbid curiosity that makes me stop when Ellis’s voice booms with a chuckle. “Bosie! You’re up first, my friend. Perhaps, perhaps I’ll give you the honour of being the only one to choose tonight.”  Of course Bosie gets special treatment.  And of course the crowd doesn’t care.

“Truth or dare?”

Oscar leans against the back of a couch, looking completely at ease, like he’s been waiting for this moment.  His eyes lazily sweep over the crowd, resting briefly on me before turning back to the game show host.  There’s a deliberate pause.  Everyone knows the answer before he even opens his mouth.

“Dare,” he says, his voice a velvety, sickening baritone.

Ellis beams, practically rubbing his hands together in glee.  “Alright, dare it is!  Let’s see… how about… you kiss someone of my choosing?”

The room erupts into nervous laughter.  My pulse quickens, dread creeping into my chest.  I’m backing away.  Even Michael is slinking off.  I don’t like where this is going. I really don’t like where this is going.

The door is maybe just a few yards away.  I could make a run for it, but they’d make someone catch me without a doubt.  My eyes are locked on the unfolding scene as I inch backwards.

Oscar doesn’t flinch. He just raises an eyebrow, his smile never faltering.  Just looking at his face makes me horribly sick.  

I need to leave.

“Your choice?” he purrs.  

These games mean nothing to him.

Ellis bows, and spins around with a flourish, scanning the room with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Hmm, who should it be? Who, who, who…”

I’m only a couple of feet away from the door now.

Only ten or so steps to freedom.

Five.

Three, two..

A sudden twitch in his eyes and I freeze.

I freeze.

A wicked grin spreads across Ellis’s face. 

“Our very own captain.  My dear Felix Devereux?”

The room goes silent.  All eyes are on me now.  My hand inches behind me, fingertips grazing the edge of the doorknob.

Yet I can’t move.  I’m stuck, frozen in place.  Oscar was like the gorgon that cast me into stone.  Or maybe that was the crowd.  Or Ellis.  I don’t know.  I can’t think. 

I can only watch.

Oscar’s gaze locks onto mine again, and I can see the amusement in his eyes, the cruel satisfaction. 

He knew.  He knew this would happen, and he’s relishing every f*****g second of it.

The crowd parts for him like the Red Sea as his boots clomp across the carpeted floors.  I find myself counting each quiet thud, each sturdy determined step.

My body tenses, every instinct screaming at me to run, but my feet stay rooted to the ground.  

He always pins me in place.

A full minute passes when he’s finally standing in front of me.

He leans in close.  Too close.  He bends down a little, with the grace of royalty.  

His eyes are pitch black, devoid of light.  I can almost see my own reflection in them.  

I stare into the depths, not knowing what I’ll find.  Not knowing if I can even find anything.  It’s just mirror upon mirror upon mirror of myself.  

They’re empty.  Desolate.

Until something flickers in them.  I can’t quite catch what it was.  I don’t know if it was even there at all.  But perhaps, just for a moment, something in him broke.

He closes the space between us, his nose but an inch from mine.  

Huffs of warm breath tickle my ear as he whispers, barely audible. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know.  You’re already at the door.” 

I almost believe him.

But I don’t go.

Oscar’s lips brush against mine in the faintest, briefest kiss.  He tastes like chocolate.  

Bittersweet.

It’s over in a heartbeat.

And yet, it lingers.