text: [Themes: mystery / thriller, mystery, horror]
  
  Climbing out of the grave is not as difficult as watching your parents grieve for you. Without a body, you feel extremely light making the task trivial. Your parents did not seem to notice you in the slightest, but you can not be dead--you are conscious after all.
  
  "Never thought you would be the next one to join us, Matthew," a familiar voice says somberly.
  
  Turning you come face to face with your late grandfather and namesake Matthew Garcia. Flabbergasted you respond, "Grandpa? That is impossible--you are dead."
  
  "I am afraid you are too, unfortunately."
  
  "How? Why?"
  
  "I don't know Chiquito, but I wouldn't worry about it. We only get one day now, today, the rest of the year we spend in the ground. I am sure you noticed that you haven't done much in the last year, it makes your joints stiff even if you are young. Worse still we do not get to rise until someone lays marigolds on our grave--thank god for your mother."
  
  With that, he turns to a similar-looking man who you only recognized from an old picture your mother keeps on the mantle--your great grandfather. Thinking of spending an entire day at a family reunion full of old people you have never met sounds like death, even if they are family. Turning back to your grave you see the black morph suit with glow in the dark bones painted on it that served as your Halloween costume last year--hand made by mama Mercia.
  
  Pulling the zipper up you know two things for a fact: you died in this costume and now you are going to get answers in it. You owe it to your loving parents and yourself. As you approach the exit of the graveyard The Urn, a steel receptacle where people can place messages to the dead to be burnt as an offering, passes by signaling the start of the all souls procession.
  
  Blending in is not a problem as there are many families following behind it; they are all dressed in elaborate costumes with face paint or masks and pull small altars dedicated to their ancestors. A part of the spectacle, and not out of place in the slightest, you are swept up into the current of grieving families. Several carry pictures of young children and toys belonging to them--the amount of deaths for kids between 8 and 15 has been unusually high in recent years.
  
  Unsure of where to start you are content following the crowd even as they enter Fairgrounds. While living your mother never joined the procession until after it passed by the seediest area in Tucson--she would always say only criminals lived there. You never followed this rule; especially since it was the neighborhood where you could collect the most candy the fastest while trick-or-treating.
  
  Fairgrounds is more worn-down than usual. Several buildings are abandoned, boarded up, or crumbling away. The Urn presses on, as do its followers. There is screaming, crying, laughing, dancing, and shouting--but something stands out among all of it.
  
  In a dark alley off Park St. a man stands alone watching the crowd in silence. His eyes shine with anticipation as he looks from child to child in the crowd adjusting a large bag he is carrying on his shoulder. Looking at you he freezes--fear overriding the excitement in his eyes as he glances at your recognizable costume and turns to walk away. Finally, a lead.
  
  > ditch the costume before following him
  Shedding your costume to take advantage of the fact that very few individuals can see spirits you follow the shady figure wrapped in a trench coat down the isolated side street. Turning the man sighs in relief--he then turns up another side street to reconnect with the All Souls Procession. Carefully you follow your nefarious friend; he keeps his face mostly covered by the collar of his trench coat--invisible among the commotion of the parade.
  
  Glancing over his shoulder he plucks a hard candy from his bag and places it in a young girl's tiny hand without slowing his pace. Curious the girl examines the candy: it is a cylindrical red, enticing, glass candy like a Jolly Rancher. She shrugs and slowly unwraps the candy; meanwhile, her candy supplier has moved through the crowd quickly passing out more candies to every child that will take one.
  
  Something seems off--both with the candies and the man handing them out. You need to get to the bottom of what is happening, but the little girl is seconds away from eating her sweet surprise and the man is slowly disappearing into the crowd.
  
  > investigate the candy
  Rushing to the little girl you grab the candy before she can get it into her mouth. She looks at her hand wide-eyed with fear. After fighting for a second to maintain control of the candy, she cries and calls for her mom. Her mother just picks the girl up and places the small child on her shoulders--calming the girl instantly and making the issue disappear.
  
  Now you have time to observe the blood-red confection you obtained. Up close nothing looks amiss with the candy; your only observation that there is no brand on the tightly wrapped plastic--if you had to guess this man was making it himself. Debating trying it, specifically if that would be possible as a spirit, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a harrowing scream.
  
  Just a few steps away from you a young mother is crying for help; she stoops above a young boy who can not be older than eight and does not appear to be breathing. Your mother appears, coming to the young family's aid. She looks at the boy carefully--then locks eyes with the mother in a manner that is uncharacteristically intense.
  
  "What happened?" she asks, but the young mom is sobbing to hard to put together a response, "My boy died from whatever did this last year! What happened!"
  
  Your mother becomes hysterical--both women are at this point. Their wails rise above the noise in the crowd causing the All Souls Procession to stop; they are joined by more mothers as other small children begin to fall to the ground. You must do something.
  
  > save the children
  Your mind goes numb except for one thought: the candy, you must stop the candy. Rushing from child to child you snatch small hard candies from all of them; no matter how fast you move you can always look ahead to three more children unwrapping their demise. Without thinking you steal a bag off someone and proceed to fill it with the dealt treats, but despite your effort more kids collapse, and more mothers cry out.
  
  By the time they are lighting The Urn you have filled the bag up with the unmarked sweets. With little else you can do you stare into the raging fire. You have no leads on the man, but at least answered one of the questions you set out to answer tonight. Frustrated you throw the bag into the fire, save a small handful, and return to the graveyard--unsure you belong anywhere else.
  
  After that you sit with your grandfather and watch The Urn continue to burn; you make sure to leave candy on your headstone for someone to find--and hope they do not try a piece. For the first time you are thankful your mother stayed true to her heritage. All that is left to do is lay down, wait for the next All Souls Procession, and pray you do not see that man again.