What Do You Want To Be For Halloween? [FICTOID]

For generations tensions brewed in the city.  Different neighborhoods, different classes, different ethnicities viewed each other with increasing suspicion, egged on by politicians and exploiters and influencers who stood to gain from the disunity.

It started small as a kindergarten class project one year. 

“This year we are all going to share one Halloween costume,” Miss Mangione said.

“Yuck,” said the kids, “who wants to squeeze into one big smelly costume?”

“You don't understand,” she said.  “We will be the costume, a beautiful necklace made of all of us.”

They made chain links from construction paper, connecting themselves together at their wrists.

“The chains link us together,” Miss Mangione said, “but they're made of paper so they will break if we're not careful.  We can go anywhere and do anything if we're careful and respectful of each other.”  

To prove this they spent the rest of the day chained together, playing games on the playground, doing art, eating snacks.  If student at one end of the chain wanted something all they need do was say, “Please pass it to me.” and the other students would pass it along.

Needless to say politicians and exploiters and influencers Did Not Like This, No, Not One Little Bit.  They denounced and ridiculed Miss Mangione, eventually dragging her before the school board to give an accounting of herself.

“This is collectivism!” they screeched.

“No, it's interdependence,” Miss Mangione said.

“You're teaching them individuality is wrong!

“No, I'm showing them how we are all linked to one another.”

“You made them sleep and go to the bathroom together!”

“Don't be silly.  For nap time and bathroom breaks we slid the chains off.  Those are personal times.  For all other times -- the public times, the social times -- we recognized our links.”

“You made them wear those chains the entire year!”

“No, only for a day and only to teach a lesson.”

“You're teaching them to be sheep.”

“I taught them that we are always linked even if the links aren't visible.  If anyone teaches them to be sheep, it is you, constantly hammering people to fear one another, to value and respect only material wealth and property, to run in headlong panic either from something you demand they fear or towards something that will benefit you even if it harms them.”

“Harlot!” politicians cried.

“Heretic!” exploiters screamed.

“Homeless!” influencers sneered.

And so Miss Mangione lost her job and her home but not her standing in the city.  Bit by bit her message sunk in.

Of course the school system banned it which meant of course all the students secretly participated in it.

Soon politicians and exploiters and influencers were denouncing paper chain link parties where kids put on the links to see how they connected with one another.  It started with rebelling teens then spread down to younger kids. 

Concerned parents, not wanting their impressionable youngsters to get the wrong ideas, started organizing paper chain link parties they could supervise and from that learned the links posed no threat and soon began incorporating them in adult parties as well.

Several years after Miss Mangione was fired and driven from the community, the city decided they would become a giant diamond necklace for Halloween. 

Whether using real diamonds or rhinestones or crumpled up aluminum foil or even just paper cut in diamond shapes, they all dressed up, linked wrist to wrist, home to home, block to block, neighborhood to neighborhood, sharing joys and sorrows, pleasures and pains. 

Joyous music and the rich aroma of a myriad of foods wafted through the air.

The only ones who didn't attend were politicians and exploiters and influencers.

Even though they were invited, they chose to spend Halloween shuttered behind closed doors, blocking out the bright light and happy sounds.

Outside in the world the real world -- not the phony one they conjured up for money and power, clicks and views, shits and giggles -- the city rejoiced in their linkage.

As for Miss Mangione, the city bestowed the highest honor they could think of on her. 

They named a school after her.

© Buzz Dixon