by Gabriela Baron ’20
October is the month of possibility. Our creativity develops and deepens like the crimson and cinnamon fall foliage. Each gust of crisp air propels our thoughts to the future. What do you want to be? The answer used to change every year: Dorothy, Snow White, a ladybug, Eeyore. On Halloween, I could be whoever I wanted. My only worry was picking an orange Starburst instead of a pink or getting gooey candy stuck in my teeth. As I get older, Halloween is much… scarier. What do you want to be? The question is more pressing, persistent, permanent. A constant knocking at my door. It possesses a new form, a new costume. Outside my window princesses and monsters rush around the streets, dragging pillowcases of sweets twice their size. Inside, mountains of candy are replaced by piles of paper. My wooden chair shrieks as I slide it closer to my desk. The brightness of my computer screen glows against the dark room. A full moon in the night sky. Deadlines and applications pop up rapidly, startling me like my own personal haunted house. Doubt and uncertainty hover above me, sending chills down my spine. I close my eyes, scooping out the slimy seeds of negativity. Creating space for light to enter the jack-o-lantern of my mind. What will I be? The answer remains the same: a writer.