I should adore Halloween.
I'm the girl who is obsessed with demons, vampires and witches, with gremlins and ghouls and things that go bump in the night.
Yet that's not what Halloween means to me.
I don't like the fancy dress costumes, the pumpkins or the trick or treating. I don't appreciate people setting out with the intention of frightening me with creepy tales.
So what does Halloween mean to me?
It reminds me that monsters aren't the fairytale beasts hiding under the bed nor the spooky presences that shimmer through the shadows. The monsters in our reality are not something that would look at home in a costume shop.
Our monsters are human beings.
They're the rapists, murderers and abusers that walk the streets amongst us. Our monsters don't wear masks or fancy dress. They're just wondering the winding path beside us like they've always belonged.
It's not Halloween that scares me, instead it is the brutal reminder that it's not the darkness we should be afraid of but those that walk alongside us in daylight.
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