On the cold night of October 31st, I wore an eye patch. I don’t remember how old I was this specific Halloween, but I remember the sensation of wearing an eye patch, only seeing out of one eye. Holding my sister’s hand, we made our way across the neighborhood in search of candy. As a child you have no sense of fear, at least not until it’s right in your face.
I had no fear until the warmth of my sister’s hand disappeared and I was left alone standing between a group of older children. I know now that I shouldn’t have been as afraid as I was. I had gotten separated from my mom, dad and sister before. But if you’ve ever worn an eye patch it dulls one sense and you become aware of the others. I could hear the laughter of children down the street, the skipping of feet and haughty laughs of plastic demons. False demons never seemed more frightening.