My family and I have been called many things: Witches, Pagans, Demons, and one guy called me a Necrophiliac (I don’t think he knew what that meant).

This is because my family is Recallers we can talk to the dead. Not in the weird possession way, where we start to float and our eyes turn white, but much more a call with bad Wi-Fi. Also, it’s not everyone, it’s our family’s eldest and youngest. My abuela and I are the current Recallers.

Tonight is Dios Los Muertos - The Day of The Dead. This is when our power is strongest, at the time of change from summer’s life to winter’s death. We always have an important role during this day, we help the ghosts return and comfort their families.

So there I stood, in a path with no end or beginning in sight. From my backpack, I pulled out an ebony black ring, and a gold candle with silver patterns etched into it. I lit the candle and it flowed a soft white glow. I put the ring on the wick and concentrated. The ring began to expand as it spanned faster and faster.

Pop

The first ghost appeared, pulling himself out of the ring, as one may do when getting out of the pool.

Now ghosts aren’t your traditional silvery spirits, who are see-through and can pass through walls. They look and act like they did when they were alive, except shadows and darkness are always hanging over them. Like an aura or a smokescreen.

Pop

Pop

Pop

More ghosts were appearing quicker and quicker. Soon the pastor was filled with the ghosts, creating a hazy cloud of gray and black all around. The mode that knew the drill was already gliding away (cause they can fly, thrillers got that part right). But there were the first timers, who had no idea what was going on.

“hey, kiddo what ya doin' out here alone” asked one.

“How did I get here and where did my rope go i thought I did the noose right this time”

“donde esta”

“Como te llamas”

“where did my family go all i was just taking a small nap”

I cleared my throat. “Hello! Everyone listen up! You all have died.”

I got a few gasps, some “Wait I’m dead”s, and one or two “Is this heaven”.

“Well, we know that,” said one ghost with a bullet hole through their chest, “the real question is why do ghosts love elevators it lifts their spirits”. That got a few muffled laughs.

I groaned “Jerry!” The ghost looked at me, “Will you please leave them alone this year!”

“Sure but you have to tell me where a ghost buys its clothes at the boo-tique”

“As I was saying! You’ve died but on a day like today you let back in to help comfort tryout families, simply follow the candles and they will lead you to your family. Be safe everyone!” On that note, the ghosts flew off. Until I was left I. The field with some babies that weren’t fully matured and of course - Jerry.

“so best for the deathly,” he said following me back to my house “What are we doin' tonight how about a slumber party”.

“Leave me alone, Jerry!” I said walking through the back door.

My abuela was sitting in her chair when she looked up. “Oh hi, Jerry. How are you doing tonight”

“deathly ill in fact, I think it’s my SKULLious”

My abuela chuckled politely. I marched up to my room and got into bed, tired from recalling the spirits.

“so how’s life” asked Jerry

I rolled over and put a pillow over my head. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. Every year I feel bad for him. He still believes that no one wants him, but I’ve seen his family and how much they cry. I tell him it but he still doesn’t believe me and I doubt he ever will.

Sad don’t you think? That someone who puts on such a brave face and is always laughing can feel so lonely inside.