Chapter 1
I had always considered Halloween, samhain, all hallows eve, all hallows tides and whatever you’d want to call it along with all its traditions as balderdash for most of my life although when I was much younger, it used to be my favourite time of the year. Back then, on Halloween night, I’d put on my costume and go trick or treating with my friends. Once, my cub scout troop even went camping on Halloween night deep in the woods. We told ghost stories, ate candies and played pranks that scared the life out of the lily livered among us; of which I’m included, we also sang songs while sitting around a very big bonfire. The events of that singular night constitutes one of the unforgettable experiences of my childhood.
Now don’t get me wrong, I really did love Halloween, but just for what it meant to me then: a time to have fun, play pranks, put on costumes and have your fill of candies. I was never much of a believer in ghosts, vampires and otherworldly creatures associated with Halloween even as a kid and as I grew older, it began to seem all the more stupid to celebrate a festival that was hinged upon things I really did not believe in.
Oh! Forgive me for going on about my past without properly introducing myself. Hi!, my name is Clint Williams, what's yours? Never mind, just kidding. Even if you said your name there's no way I'd hear you. I'm black; that's probably due to my African roots. I'm sixteen, averagely built at about four feet and nine inches. Cool isn't it? My parents are Mr and Mrs Williams, obviously. I have two siblings both younger than myself; a twelve year old brother named Bobby, Bob for short and a nine year old sister named Emanuele who happen t be the youngest of us.
Now back to my story. You'd remember that I said I had always considered Halloween and everything about it as balderdash for most of my life, Yeah that was until a year ago.
It all began on the last day of the month of September 2018. Then, we lived we lived in a town called St Andrews just two hours drive from the city of Fredericton in Canada. My dad was the curator at one of the local museums. We were doing okay, I guess. We had our own house; a three bedroom bungalow in a quaint little neighbourhood but my dad always dreamt of working for one of those prestigious museums. Fortunately for him, he got his wish. He had applied online about two years back for a job at the imperial war museum in London and he got the call that morning that he had gotten the job; not just any job but the job of the curator, a dream come true for dad.
Well, to cut short the story, we were all very happy for dad but sad that we'd have to leave ourlives behind and move halfway round the world to Europe, though we didn't tell this to dad. We began to make preparations and we finally moved to Europe ten days later on the 11th of October, 2019 and thus began the story of my conversion.
