"It's Halloween again folks! Lock your children up, keep them safe! Don't let them out of your sights! The Taker hasn't been pleased with us this year, and this is the day she's strongest!" How stupid.

'Hasn't been pleased with us.' She's never pleased with us if that's the case! She's been taking children for years now! And not just during Halloween but all the time. So what if she's stronger tonight? That just means she'll take more kids. It's not like we could stop her, she's a freaking ghost.

"Beware of her soft voice, and honey words! She'll take your children and kill them with joy! Tis Halloween people! A time to stay indoors and protect your children! To pray for those taken this night and to apologise to those taken!"

Take your children and kill them? There's no evidence that she killed them. But then again, none of those children have been seen again; it's most likely she killed them. All those young children... dead. The thought makes me sick.

Although the first child taken had all ways bothered me though. Elizabeth Bothinia. She was my age, thirteen. But, her disappearance was different than the others. Unlike the following that were taken, she was a lot older than the others, by a good eight years at the least. And her body was found.

It was a dreadful sight; it still hovers in my nightmares sometimes. Her body was found near the river, her body had been drenched in her own blood, a silent scream etched into her face, terror still in her eyes. Scratches cut deep into her fragile body. And it was bent so wrongly, like all the bones in her body were broken painfully. Her legs were the worst, her legs and her ribs.

It is painful to remember it. Elizabeth had been friends with everyone in our small town. But she was my best friend. If I were being entirely honest, she was my first love. And I was going to confess, maybe, on the day she disappeared. The next morning, I found her body while looking for her.

I squeeze my eyes shut. It had been exactly three years since then and I don't want to remember it. I refuse to remember it. I continue to walk down the street, everyone's heads turning to look at me as I do. It happens every year.

Halloween, the day Michael lost his first love, his best friend. The day he found her body, entangled in her own limbs. My stomach churned as I once again saw the bloody sight in front of me. I clenched my jaw and held back tears. It's been three years, I'm sixteen now. I should be over it. I should be mourning of the most recent missing child... but I'm not.

I know everyone in this godforsaken town but I don't care about them. I mean I do, but... Elizabeth meant more to me, no, means more to me. I still care about her, and I feel deep inside me, she still cares too. I feel like her eyes have trailed me every day since her death. But that can't be, it just couldn't.

Every now and then, the feeling of her purple eyes watching over me while I sleep is too much and I wake up from my sleep. And surprisingly enough, it always happens on a day a child goes missing.

Most children that are taken are girls, the age from three-five, seven at most. It's a pity, yes. But it makes me angry! Why Elizabeth? Why was Elizabeth taken? She was thirteen! Much older than the others! Why her? It just wasn't fair. Not to me, not to her, not to anybody...

"Michael, you're distracted."

I jolt up, the groceries in my hands rustling in the bag a litter. I blush a little and look at my mother embarrassed. I frown and look in front of me again.

"Not. I was not."

My mother chuckles, although it didn't take a genius to know that it is hollow on the inside. She knows what day it is, and she isn't afraid for me. She knows that only children up to the age of ten are taken. No, she is sad for me. She knows how much I resent this day, and she knows why too.

"Michael, it is ok. You do not need to apologise for everything."

I look at her again, her golden-brownish eyes are filled with an innocent sort of mischief. I smile at her cheekily, showing off that playboy mischief that I once had.

"But I did not apologise mother. You must be growing old, for your hearing is growing worse by the day!"

I pretend to act concerned but we both share a small smile that toys on our lips. My mother is indeed beautiful, even with her greying hair. It had once been a beautiful auburn colour, a vibrant red carefully mixed with a darker brown.

Sadly, I didn't get my mother's hair; instead I got my fathers, making me look plain. Brown eyes, brown hair. How much more generic could one get? But Elizabeth, she had the most beautiful hair in the town, or even the world! I always used to play with it, braiding it, running my fingers through it. It was always as soft as the clouds above looked.

Elizabeth's hair was a beautiful golden colour, as golden as the sun. It had this beautiful shine to it as well, when the light hit it just right, it would practically glow. But by candle light, her hair was sway with the flame, shimmering along with it.

"You're distracted again."

My mother's voice echoes through my memories as they faded to nothing. I frown again and I got filled with grief. My mother's tone had lost all joy and mischief. I must have hidden my grief horribly, because she sounds sorry.

"I'm sorry mother."

When we arrive home, I help her unpack the groceries before heading to my room. I sit down on my chair and just stare at the blank parchment in front of me. I am supposed to write an apology letter to one of the missing children; that's what the homework was every year around this time. I, of course, choose Elizabeth. But I couldn't think of anything to say.

I think back on all the things we used to do. It is good to remember the good times rather than sit in this sorrow present. We used to run around, playing tag. Throw a ball around. She even got me to play dress-up from time to time. We used to play heroes too. She always played the hero. I was the maiden in distress.

Others sometimes looked down at the sight, but nobody really minded. Everybody knew how Elizabeth was. She lived in the now. Always looking at the path straight ahead of her and never looking back, nor think about what lied ahead.

I wonder what she'd think about all of this. The children missing, the Taker. It seems all too unreal to me. I feel tears roll down my cheeks onto the blank parchment. I knew what she'd say about this.

"Come on silly! You're meant to be the tough guy to protect me from bad guys! You can't cry now!" Or maybe "You're looking at the past to much! You need to live in the now! You'll miss this if you do and won't have anything to think back on!" A bitter laugh escapes my mouth.

She always made me smile, and as time went on I tried desperately to cling onto her, to the past. But I couldn't. Already, Elizabeth's face is blurry; her voice is just words that echo soundlessly through my mind. She's slowly starting to turn less into my deceased friend, my crush, and into a hazy memory of the past. I push myself up, accidently knocking my ink over on my desk.

I go limp as I curse under my breath. Why did this always happen to me? I clean up the mess with the blank parchment and throw it in the trash. I cannot stay here anymore. I feel like this entire town is suffocating me. I start to walk out of the house when Rosaline comes up to me smiling sadly.

"Hey Michael..." Even for a five-year-old, Rosaline was smart. Her eyes are the brightest blue you could ever see and her hair matches my generic brown hair. She is a spitting image of our father. "I... I wanted to ask if I could go for a walk with you. To see Elizabeth..."

Grief floods my eyes and I feel the life inside of me die. But Rosaline is so pure and innocent. I couldn't say no to her.

"Anything for you Rosaline." I manage to hide my distress, seeing that her expression remains unchanged... I think.

I grab her hand and we walk outside of the house. Elizabeth had always treated Rosaline like her own sister, calling her 'my little rose.' It always made her laugh. I was surprised Rosaline still remembered Elizabeth if I were to be honest. "So why did you want to visit Elizabeth?" Rosaline shrugs, before smiling.

"I feel like that she gets lonely, and that she wants to be with someone. I feel that she'll visit tonight. And maybe... maybe we can see her again, just for a second."

Many doubt her when it comes to the spirits, but I never do. Rosaline has a habit of being correct with her theories when it comes to ghosts. Like she is in contact with them.

We walk down the path out of the town silently; we didn't say a word when we entered the dark forest. I hate this place, but Elizabeth didn't. I don't know why, but she found this place peaceful. I don't know how though; this place is shrouded with ancient murders and silent screams.

Soundless woes and cries of distress echo through the woods. It can't be heard, but you could easily tell it is happening. Even the animals were silent here. They know, they know that one wrong step can lead to anybody's death.

I look over to Rosaline. She wore a confident smile, like she wasn't scared of anything. I always am. I always feared the worst. I always thought of the worst. I am a scaredy cat. That's what Elizabeth would have said, would she used to say. And she was right. But she never made fun of me for it. No, she said that being a scaredy cat wasn't weak. She said it was strong. I never saw how though, fearing everything was terrifying. And quite annoying if I had to say so myself.

She never told me how being fearing everything was strong though, more like never got the chance. I sigh through my nose and frown as we reach the river. I feel Rosaline pull my sleeve on my suit a little. I look down to her with a fond smile on my lips.

"I'm scared..."

I gently pick her up and laugh when she freaks out a little. I place her on my shoulders so that she's sitting on them.

"Is this better?"

I hear her hum a yes-sound and we start to head left, traveling beside the river that flowed softly the same way. It is still eerily silent, I hated the silence, so did Elizabeth, she always thought that silence meant bad news. Although I've come to peace with the silence.

The only sound within the entire forest the soft water rushing down the slight slope. This place is the setting of a weird horror story. With its horrifying silence, the fog that always seems to float just above the ground, the way the dark leaves of the tall trees block out any chance on sunlight. It is truly horrible.

"We're almost there."

I intend it to be reassuring to Rosaline, although I'm sure we both know it was more to me than her. Elizabeth's gravestone starts to take shape in the distance through the fog.

Her gravestone is humongous and the most beautiful gravestone I had either seen. Everyone in the town chipped in to pay for it. It is this majestic woman wearing a lovely white robe. She had giant white wings open out, as if she were an angel.

The woman is holding a statue of Elizabeth in her arms. Although it is pretty, I felt Elizabeth is always staring at me with those concrete eyes. And no matter where I stand, or how far I stand away from it, it always feels the same.

I put Rosaline down and let her walk to the gravestone. I watch her closely, just in case the Taker was to come and take her away. Rosaline walks up to the gravestone and kneels just in front of it. I watch from afar as Rosaline talked to Elizabeth.

Rosaline likes to talk to Elizabeth a lot, to try and remember her better. I tried talking to her too once. It didn't feel right though. I watch with raised eyebrows as Rosaline, a sweet little five-year-old, climb onto the statue and got onto her tiptoes, and kiss Elizabeth's statue on the cheek.

That's when I see her eyes move to look at Rosaline. I didn't see it exactly. It just sort of happened. I blink a few times to make sure my eyes aren't messing with me. When I look again, her eyes are facing ahead again, seemingly at nothing. I feel unnerved by it, but shrug it off.

Rosaline walks up to me, a small smile on her face before saying she is ready to leave. I heft her onto my shoulders so she is sitting on them again. We start to walk off again, with Rosaline talking about random things. But as we leave, I can't help but turn around and catch one more glimpse of the statue of Elizabeth. And sure enough, she is staring right back at me.