"Happy Halloween, Derek." Ashley murmured, touching the flaming match to the candlewick.
The dry string flared to life and set the carved eyes and mouth of the jack-o'-lantern flickering with a golden glow. Setting the pumpkin on the dresser, Ashley padded across the bedroom to the window and stared outside. The streets were all but empty now, void of all but the late-starting trick-or-treaters who were finishing up their rounds. She took a long, unsteady breath and wrapped the old flannel shirt around her body. God, Derek had loved Halloween. It'd been his favorite holiday; he didn't even look forward to Christmas with as much excitement.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips as she stared out over the barren front lawn, remembering how they used to spend at least a month just planning what the yard would look like. They'd been the house all the kids used to look forward to visiting, because the little ones never knew what kind of fright they'd dream up for Halloween, but they could always be sure it would be better than the one before. Why, Derek used to spend a fortune on lifelike models of the horror movie "greats", guaranteed to wring a scream from even the bravest treat-seeker when placed in strategic locations throughout their "haunted" house. But it had all been worth it for her then, just to watch the grin on Derek's face as he waited on the other end of the yard to reward the children with candy when they made it through. "Only the best for my brave visitors," he'd announce in a deep voice, before dropping a few Hershey bars or the like in their open bags or Halloween-themed buckets.
But there were no decorations, no grand celebration this time. It had only been a little less than a year since the accident. Ashley had tried to think up some grand scheme for the neighborhood kids, but it all seemed so pointless with Derek gone. In the end, she simply decided that the children would have to find another home to visit for their "spooky" night, and left the porch light off for the first time in the ten years that they'd lived in the house.
She simply didn't have the heart for celebrating, and her only contribution to the night's fun was the jack-o'-lantern she'd carved for the bedroom, a shrine of memory for her dead husband's favorite holiday. And as the night progressed, the pain of losing him just got worse. It was almost midnight now, judging by the numbers that glowed on their alarm clock's face. The "witching hour", Derek had called it. It had been at this time that they would have shut down their grand haunted house, stopped handing candy to the last of the straggling trick-or-treating children. When the big Grandfather clock downstairs began the chiming the last remaining minutes of Halloween, it had been tradition that Derek sweep Ashley off her feet and carry her up to the bedroom.
Abandoning their costumes, tossing their masks to the ground, they would fall into each other's arms to culminate the excitement of the night. It had been Ashley's favorite part of the holiday, when she was pressed beneath the weight of Derek's body, sinking back into the bed while his mouth and hands did incredible things to her body, their skin turned to liquid amber hues by the glow of the candles spread about the room. She'd asked him once, what the saying meant, in between passionate kisses as they struggled out of their attire. He'd looked at her with the devilish twinkle in his eye that he could get sometimes, and tossed her naked body onto the mattress.
"It's the witching hour," he explained, punctuating his meanings with little love bites on her bare breasts. "It's when all the magic happens."
She wasn't even aware that her memories had caused her to start crying, until the first salty tear tickled its way down her cheek. Abandoning the window, Ashley stretched across her bed, her body numb and her heart in pain. She buried her face in Derek's pillow, unable to stop the flow of tears. Even after nearly a year of no use, the downy cushion still smelled like him, a mixture of Brut cologne and male skin. Downstairs, the Grandfather clock started its chords, letting her know the "witching hour" had officially begun. Clutching the pillow to her body as if it was Derek himself, Ashley gave in to the wave of sadness and sobbed herself to sleep.
She was awakened by the most delicious tingle in her body, one that she remembered quite well. It was the sensation of a mouth suckling her nipple, catching it hard between lips and rolling it, coaxing the center to rise for more devious torture.
Ashley moaned with her eyes still closed, feeling each tug of the glorious exploration sending a straight jolt of pleasure to her loins. Derek always did know that her breasts were her weak point, and he had been so good about seeing the attention they deserved. How many times had she reached her first climax from him just toying with her breasts, giving them equal time and making her squirm beneath him as the pleasure exploded over her? But the sensual sensations weren't enough to make her forget that Derek was gone. If Derek wasn't here, then who was caressing her body? As if she'd been dunked into a tub of ice-cold water, her ardor was forgotten, and Ashley snapped her eyes open in shock. She'd been out for a few hours, for the candle in the carved pumpkin's hollows had all but burned itself out. But although the room was bathed in shadows, the being on top of her could be seen clearly, as it gave off some ethereal aura of its own.
She almost screamed, but the sound caught in her throat as she gaped at it. It was a man, or rather, the spirit of a man. Although they were transparent, those were definitely the limbs of a human, glowing with that strange silver light. It was like looking at a body made of mist; for one minute, the body would seem solid, so solid she could tell details of the fingers and the delicate ghostly curls of hair on the top of its head. And then, before she could blink, the features would blur, and all she would see was a great cloud of silver light, and her own body stretched out beneath it. She should have been scared, but for some reason she was more surprised than fearful. There was something familiar about the way the shape crouched over her, something comforting in the warmth it was radiating on her body. And then the being raised its head, and she knew, she knew in one moment when the features came clear for a split second what unearthly spirit was pleasuring her body.
"Oh my god," Ashley whimpered, reaching out a hand to caress the face of the ghost. "Derek?? Is it really you?" Her hand passed right through the cheek of its face, dipping inside the silver body as though it was air. Where her fingers entered the spectral visitor, she felt a great heat and a tingling, as though she was touching a live wire of energy.
Derek looked up at her and smiled, his eyes a little sad. He didn't open his mouth to speak, but his words suddenly echoed in her mind, as if he were sending them through telepathy. "It's really me, Ash. I had to come back, to let you know I'm really okay." The words bubbled over her wounded heart like a soothing balm, and suddenly she began to cry again. The ghost leaned forward to where the wet tracks were tracing down her cheeks, and pressed its transparent lips to them. Her face tingled, and the heat of the kiss dried the moisture seeping from her eyes.
"How, Derek? How are you here?" She whispered. "I don't understand."
