WEBVTT
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On Halloween, everybody gets to be someone else. But what
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if you had no name, no past, and nothing to lose?
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One young woman finds the perfect disguise, another girl's life.
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Trouble is, she has no idea who's been watching that girl.
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Trick or treat! There's a chill in the air. Must
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be fall. Join me for a tale of Halloween. You
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will experience tales of horror, ghosts, and death. It is
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not recommended for the weak at heart. But who really
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listens to warnings anyway? This is Weekly Spooky.
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Hello, my spookies. October has finally arrived. just as promised,
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and I am so excited to bring you one of
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many extra spookies for your weekly. Tonight is our first
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of many Halloween horror stories for you to enjoy to
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make sure you get the most out of your calendar
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spooky season. But before we get to that, I want
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to say thank you all so much for joining me.
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I cannot wait to scare you with some Horror and joy.
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Because those do go hand in hand. So if you're
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new here, make sure you subscribe on your favorite podcast app.
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There'll be something scary, if not two or three, every
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single day in October. And, of course, in November and December,
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we bring the spooky to other holidays as well. But
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right now, oh my, it's time. Gather close, my spookies.
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The jack-o'-lanterns are grinning. The candy bowl is getting suspiciously light.
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And somebody at the Halloween party is wearing a very
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convincing costume. Not a vampire or a werewolf. Somebody you
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think you know. And that is a lovely little Halloween trick,
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isn't it? A different face. A different voice. And suddenly
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you can spend a few hours being almost anyone. Usually
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the transformation ends when you peel off the mask, find
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glitter in places you didn't even know you had. Tonight
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we're meeting someone who doesn't have an old life waiting underneath.
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No name that she can recall. No familiar place to
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return to. Just a terrible hunger to belong and an
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opportunity standing a little too close to the mirror. So
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settle in, keep your own face nearby, and be careful
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whose name you answer to. Dead Name by Morgan Moore
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Halloween is a weird holiday to me. It's the one
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day of the year when people choose who they want
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to be. Not in the normal way people decide how
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they want to be perceived or how they want to act,
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but actually decide, sometimes planning well in advance, who they
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want to become. Usually they choose to be anything but themselves,
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taking on the appearance and name of somebody or something else.
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It's something that's always fascinated me, but then again, my
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perspective on identity is a little skewed. I don't have
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a name, or at least, I don't know my name.
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The way I remember it, life has simply happened. I
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know things, obviously, just nothing about me specifically. At the
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bare minimum, I have a vague idea of my age,
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19 based on how others seem to treat me. Anything
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else is just trivial knowledge most people learn growing up.
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I know how to read, take care of myself physically, write,
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use a computer, and things like that. But anything about
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me beyond my physical appearance is a mystery. A while back,
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I can tell time, but I have no idea how
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long ago this was, I woke up in a room
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in what I guessed was a bed and breakfast. The
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building was a house, so I just went with that. Anyway,
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when I woke up, I had my pajamas on, at least.
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I assumed they were mine, and my regular clothes were
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sitting on a hope chest. I felt grimy, like when
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your hands are coated in thick film or dirt or
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sweat or stickiness for no real reason, so I took
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a shower. Naked and standing in front of the mirror,
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I didn't see anything to suggest I had been attacked
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or raped or Anything like that. I didn't see a bag,
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a purse, or any other belongings, so maybe I had
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been robbed. Hell, maybe I'd been drugged. Who knows? When
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I got dressed, I just left. Since then, I've wandered
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around the city. For a while, I tried to find
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clues to my identity, but I never turned anything up.
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I went into grocery stores and even police stations, checking
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bulletin boards filled with missing persons reports, but I never
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saw my face. I started to think that if I
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had been drugged, it must have been something that really
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fucked with my head. If there had been any kind
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of bump or bruise on my head, I would have
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assumed amnesia, but I had nothing. Not having money meant
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I couldn't hire anybody to look into it for me,
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and I doubted donating blood or anything would help since
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I'd have to give my name. And, oh right, I
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don't have one. Eventually, I stopped looking and settled into
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the mindset that maybe it would come to me down
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the road, but it wasn't in the cards for me
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right now. And that's okay. Some people would probably say
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that kind of thing leaves you a lot of freedom.
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And in a way, it does. No commitments holding me
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back from doing whatever I want. But you try getting
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a job or much of anything without a name or
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any form of identification. How could I do whatever the
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hell I wanted without money? not to mention I couldn't
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get a place to live, let alone figure out where
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I had lived before. So I live on the street
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and get by however I can, mostly from appropriating things
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I need from stores and shacking up in whatever abandoned
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buildings I come across. Before I knew it, Halloween was here,
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so at the very least, I knew it was October.
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I don't remember much about Halloween beyond the usual things.
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I have no memory of favorite candy, but I do
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remember getting candy. I just couldn't tell you what kind.
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I can't remember any costumes I wore either, only that
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I must have worn them since every kid does. Costumes
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are what brought me to the store today. It gets
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tiring not having an identity, and I decided that, at
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the very least, I could have one today, even if
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it was only borrowing it. And hell, at least this
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way I could participate in something other than just being
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another person going through day-to-day motions, which, for me, meant...
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a lot of time in libraries, long walks, and finding
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food however I could. Glancing around the Halloween section, it
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becomes pretty clear that waiting until the day of wasn't
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a great choice. There are next to no options left
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that are specifically based on people. My choices are generic costumes,
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a witch, a pirate, a student, things like that, Whatever
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I choose would mean adding some personal touch to it,
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which isn't exactly easy in this instance. While the costume
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selection isn't well-stocked, the masks are, for some reason. I
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pluck a witch costume in my size off the shelf
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and figure I can just throw on a mask to
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personalize it. Looking through them, I land on a Featureless
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one that's all black. If anything, the black mask and
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costume fit my lack of identity pretty well. Getting it
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all out of the store isn't an issue. I simply
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slip into a dressing room, put the costume on under
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my clothes. That's it. Luckily, I wear baggy enough clothing
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to hide a good chunk of my appropriations. The mask...
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is a little trickier, so I just hold it and
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walk out of the store like an average Joe who
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bought something and didn't want a bag. Out of the store,
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I find the closest park bathroom, pull off my plain clothes,
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and slip the mask on. Looking in the mirror, I'm
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taken aback by the utter nothingness of my appearance. Tangled
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curls of brown hair Hanging over the mask are the
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only color, aside from my skin. And then it dawns
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on me that I don't have anything to do other
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than wander around. All dressed up with nowhere to go
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sounds about right for where my life currently is, a
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living void. The bathroom door opens loudly, and by some
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instinct I can only attribute to basic human or animal survival,
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I take shelter in a stall and lock the door.
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A group of girls makes their way in and plants
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themselves in front of the sinks and mirrors where I
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had just been standing. Peeking through the space between the
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stall door and the wall, I watch them preen. Do
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we really have to go to this stupid party? One
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of them says. Looking over at her, I notice... Her
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hair is about the length of mine, only a few
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shades lighter. She's dressed as what I can only describe
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as a cherub by way of Mardi Gras, complete with
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a mask that looks equally angelic and stereotypically clownish. I
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thought that's where you were meeting your secret admirer, another
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one asks, this one dressed in attire akin to a schoolgirl. Yeah,
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but I don't really have an interest now, the clown
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cherub says. Why? asks a girl dressed like a sexed-up
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Statue of Liberty. It was cute at first, but I
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don't know. It's also kind of creepy to think somebody's
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leaving notes and things all over the place for me. Well,
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we're still going. Unless you want to go home by yourself,
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you should come with us. the schoolgirl says. Of course,
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if you go home alone, you'd have to walk. And
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you never know, maybe your secret admirer slash stalker could
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be waiting to give you a treat or a trick,
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the Statue of Liberty adds. Fine, give me a few
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minutes to touch myself up, the one with hair like
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mine tells them. All the girls save for the one
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with the apparent secret admirer leave the bathroom. Their friend
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alone to ready herself however she needs to. She slips
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off her mask and it's evident the similarities between us
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end at the face. Though our body frames are somewhat alike.
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Mine is only a little thicker around the arms and legs.
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From her purse, she produces a small makeup bag and
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gets to work touching herself up. A thought enters my
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head as I watch her touch up her makeup. It's
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an idea that any sane person would never consider, never
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dare to act on. But it is Halloween, and my
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thoughts become as black as my costume. What is and
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isn't sane suddenly feels unimportant. I think of our only
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slightly different hair, our only slightly different frames. I think
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of really getting into the spirit of taking on the
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identity of something or somebody. I unlock the stall door
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and step out. The girl sees my ghastly appearance. and
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is visibly taken aback. She opens her mouth to say something,
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but I give her no time. Before a full breath
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passes between her lips, I'm directly behind her. My hand
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latches on to the back of her head and slams
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her face-first into the mirror. I keep my eyes away
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from the remaining shards to avoid seeing the results of
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the damage as I repeat the action again. and again,
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and again, until I feel her go limp. Letting go
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of her head, I watch her slump to the ground,
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and for the first time, I look at what I caused.
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Not wanting to risk her friends returning and finding the
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mess I made, I drag the body into the backmost stall,
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the one reserved for people with disabilities- and get to
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work undressing both of us. Just as quickly, I dress
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myself into this poor girl's costume. Looking at myself in
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one of the unbroken mirrors, I slide on the mask
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and complete the change from nameless nothing me to a
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girl who has plans, friends, a name, and a life.
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It isn't a look I think is great, but hey,
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I shouldn't be too picky, right? I leave the bathroom
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and it doesn't take long to spot the other two
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girls sitting in a parked car. Thankfully, the one dressed
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as a schoolgirl is at the wheel. If it had
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been the dead girl's car, I would have had to
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get the keys. Aw, shit, that means I would have
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had to drive. and fuck me if I know how
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to do that. They haven't noticed me yet, and even
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though I don't need to look for keys, I quickly
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go back inside and grab her purse before making my
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way to the car. Well, it took you long enough, Constance,
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the Liberty Girl says. Constance. That was the girl's name.
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Now it's mine. She is mine. It occurs to me
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then that I don't sound anything like her. Let's see.
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Maybe I can approximate it a little. Yeah, sorry, I
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had to pee, I say. Her voice was a few
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octaves higher than mine, so I raise my pitch to
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what I think is close enough. Excuses, excuses. the schoolgirl
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says in a playful chastisement. They haven't noticed it isn't
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the actual Constance yet. Maybe this is going to work.
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I mean, I could have pissed in the car, I offer. Gross,
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she responds. I smile behind the mask. Can you bitches
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do the foreplay later so we can get to the party?
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The Statue of Liberty demands. Schoolgirl starts the car, and
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we're off to whatever party they and the old Constance
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were expected at. Behind the mask, I can feel my
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smile growing and my heart beating like somebody is playing
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double bass drums. I've been living, but for the first
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time since who knows when, I feel like I'm actually alive.
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Whatever this party has to offer, I'm ready for anything,
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and salivating at the possibilities of what this knight, this costume,
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this girl named Constance, can give me. The party is
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what I imagined it would be. Lots of people in
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my supposed age range dressed in an oddball variety of costumes.
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Most of the boys are some form of superhero, athlete, pirate, knight,
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or generic thing with only a few dressed as anything
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related to scary movies or being creepy. The girls aren't
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much different, either wearing plain costumes or sexed-up versions of
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something ordinary. But the party itself is lively, and everybody's
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having the time of their lives. It's infectious, and as
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we walk in and my friends go off on their own,
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I lose myself to the thrill of living. Nobody greets me,