I am in love with her, but that love is not returned. I see her everywhere, in everything. I can hear her in the music of life. I cannot live without her. But she... she doesn't even know I exist.

Unable to take it anymore, I poison myself. Opium. But I don't know, how much is a lethal amount? Nevertheless I plunge into a deep nothingness.

I lose touch with reality. Am I awake or asleep? Alive or dead? I have killed her? My beloved? I see myself convicted, marched through a jeering crowd. I am led to the scaffold where the executioner awaits, but I don't see it through my eyes. I am me, but not me. Another onlooker in the crowd, crying out for mercy, but drowned out by the angry shouts.

I am forced to kneel, my neck in place, with the guillotine towering over me. I look into the crowd and see her. My love. Alive. She looks back at me, emotionless. I try to proclaim my innocence, to point her out in the crowd. But my words are cut off, along with my head, when the blade comes crashing down. My head tumbles, bounces, and all goes black.

I open my eyes again. It is a celebration. My funeral. But there are no mourners, only monsters. Shades, sorcerers and witches shout and laugh. Strange groans echo in the darkness. The doors are flung open and the macabre collective cheers. I turn to see her, my beloved. But she is grotesque, a witch, come to celebrate with the others.

I am pressed into a seat, more like a ritualistic throne, held by hands of all shapes and sizes. She approaches, sits on my lap, and puts her hand to my throat. With a wicked grin, she kisses me. I cry out in pain when she bites my lip, drawing blood as well as cheers from the crowd.

"We're just getting started," she smiles before leaning in again.

Going with something a little different today. That's how we roll on Blane's 13 Days of Halloween.

If you missed any of the other days, you can find them here.