“He fled through the cemetery, stumbling over headstones and exposed roots. When he risked a look back, he saw nothing but wicked trees, dark against the night sky. 

“But he knew the demon chased him. He could feel the ice in the Halloween air.” 

QP spoke in a low, menacing voice. He took his time telling the story, and he glanced around his circle of friends, staring at each for a prolonged moment. 

Savannah sat against a headstone and hugged her knees. She had brown eyes that vanished under the night, and dark hair that curled around her shoulders. 

Evan sat cross-legged beside her, his red hair a fiery contrast to all else. His face resembled the gargoyles around the cemetery—stoic, hard, aged.

Tyler lay on his side, resting his head on his hand, his skinny wrist supporting the weight. He wore glasses and had a receding hairline at seventeen. A blunt burned orange from between his lips. Smoke plumed and shrouded his face. He rolled onto his elbows with an outburst of rough coughing. 

Evan patted Tyler’s back. “Here,” he said, reaching for a flask of whiskey near Tyler’s legs and handing it to him. “Wash it down.”

Robert stood against a tree trunk. He titled back his beer, his Adam’s apple bulging, his unkempt afro bouncing around his forehead. When he finished, he crushed the can and tossed it toward QP. “What happened next?”

QP grinned like a jack-o-lantern, face round and head large. “When the man turned to run again, the demon appeared before him. It wore a mask over its face. It was white, like fresh snow. The lips of the mask curled into a smile, but it was far from a happy one. Stitches sewed the mouth shut and pinched the eyes closed.” 

“Boooo!,” Savannah heckled, cupping a hand over her mouth. “I thought you were going to tell us a scary story.”

QP frowned. “It’s because you’re sober.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “It’s because you made up a terrible story.”

“I agree,” Evan said. “With Savannah.”

“What a shocker,” QP said. “You agree with Savannah. Just suck her dick already. Is that why you’re not smoking? Because you don’t want to upset her?” He spoke in a babying tone. 

“Why’d you drag us out here?” Evan asked. “What’s the big surprise?” He reached behind him and grabbed a beer from a backpack. The aluminum punched open like a gunshot into the empty night.

“I’d rather the story just be done,” Tyler said, readjusting his glasses, taking a small puff from the burning joint. “It’s Halloween, we’re hanging out in the cemetery—how far should we push our luck?”

“What’re you talking about?” QP asked. “What does finishing the story have anything to do with it? Is this your first time smoking, man? You might want to slow down.” QP extended a hand. “Here, let me take that off you.” 

Tyler leaned forward and passed the joint. 

Savannah stretched her hands into the air. Her sweatshirt lifted, showing a few inches of skin. QP enjoyed the sight a little too long.

“QP,” she said, readjusting her sweatshirt. “You never see a stomach before?”

Evan’s stone face cracked, exploring the rare territories of smiling. 

“Remember last year,” QP asked, “walking around that abandoned apartment? Graffiti all over the walls. Blood stains in that one corner. That was scary. And fun. Oh, Tyler, remember that haunted house in eighth grade?” 

“You really have to bring that up?” Tyler readjusted so he sat upright. “Remember when you were fat?”  

“I’d rather be fat than piss my pants.” QP threw back his head and guffawed. “Weren’t you dating that chick at the time? And she dumped your skinny ass that night?” 

Tyler flipped off QP, then pulled a stream of whiskey from the flask. 

“Every year since fourth grade,” QP said, staring at Evan, “we’ve spent Halloween together. And this is it. Our senior year. The last Halloween we’ll ever have.” 

“You don’t know that,” Robert said, stepping away from the tree and into the semicircle. 

QP shook his head, unsure. “I don’t know, Bobby-Boy. I know you live in fairyland and all, but this might be it. Figured we might as go out with a bang—get drunk and high in a cemetery on Halloween. Tell scary stories. What could go wrong?” 

The question died in the vastness of the cemetery. Crickets chirped and distant cars sped down the freeway. 

Fog had settled above the damp ground and around the headstones. Massive trees, dark and threatening against the night, rose like monsters from a Lovecraft novel. 

“Where’s Jimmy?” Evan asked. 

“He’s probably screwing your mom,” QP said. 

“I hope he doesn’t show,” Robert said. “I hate that dude.” 

“He’s a douche,” Tyler said. 

“Agreed,” Savannah said. “But it is tradition. He’s been with us every year since fourth grade. And, also, who cares? QP’s just as obnoxious, and we tolerate him.”

“Hey,” QP said, sounding offended. He sighed. “You’re right.” 

“So, the getting drunk and high in the cemetery thing is the big Halloween surprise?” Savannah asked. 

QP clicked his tongue, wagging a finger. “Not so fast, pretty lady. Can I finish my story?” 

“We’re still on this story?” she asked. “This will go down as the longest, most boring, least scary story ever told.” 

“So, listen,” QP continued, undeterred. “Dumah, the demon, right—Dumah appears in front of this guy. It’s Halloween, remember, like tonight. That’s when the worlds are closest together, and supernatural beings can tear through the fabric.”

“So, this is like a Bloody Mary thing?” Evan asked, stretching his legs out across the grass. “We spin in a circle, chanting his name three times, and he’ll appear and grant us three wishes.”

“That’s a genie, dumbass,” Savannah said. 

“But don’t you sell them your soul in exchange for a wish?” Evan asked. “I mean, what’s the point of summoning a demon if he doesn’t grant you anything? To get haunted or slaughtered? That doesn’t make sense. That’s why I hate horror movies. Nothing ever makes sense.” 

“No,” Robert said, holding up a finger. “That’s not completely true.” 

“Shut up, nerd,” QP said. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Listen, Dumah can only be summoned in one particular way.”

“Demons aren’t real,” Tyler said, reaching across the circle and retrieving the joint from QP. “There’s no way to summon them.”

“Is that why you brought us out here?” Evan asked. He tipped up his beer can and drank, burping into a closed fist when he finished. “To summon a demon?”

QP pushed back against all the dissent. “I mean, it’s Halloween! We’ve done something every year, and this is it for us. Curtain-fucking-call. I figured we could get a high and try to scare ourselves with a summoning. Something we can always remember. And think of this—if it works, who knows? Maybe we’ll get three fucking wishes.” 

Savannah smirked at Evan. “Who knows?” 

“I don’t like the idea,” Tyler said. 

“Quit being a pussy. You don’t like any ideas,” QP said. 

“How does the summoning work, then,” Evan asked. 

“Let me get a hit off that.” After Tyler passed the joint back, QP took a long drag and fell to a fit of coughing. He punched on his chest until his system settled down. “We all have to hold hands and form a circle.” 

Evan turned toward Savannah. “You’re really in on this?”

She jumped to her feet. “Why the hell not? He’s right. It’s our last Halloween together. Let’s make it one to remember.” 

Savannah grabbed Evan’s hand with her right and she reached toward Tyler with her left.