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The scariest thing of all

This past fall, I experienced something far spookier than a haunted house, and met souls far more terrifying than ghosts or goblins. I escaped alive, so it is my duty to tell the tale. I must warn future victims to be wary of the truly scary:

Family reunions. *cue lightning*

As soon as you pull open the sliding door to your mom’s mini van, you hear the shrieks and cackles of your aunts, a sound even the wickedest witches would fear. A sea of fingers and the almost lethal scent of perfume surrounds you, sucking you in.

“Hey dear, you’ve gotten so big,” they cry.

They corner you as more hear word of your arrival. You’re suddenly launched into meaningless conversation after meaningless conversation. The question “How’s school?” plays on repeat, a broken record on the soundtrack to this horror movie.

After 15 minutes of being poked and pulled, you plot your escape, spotting a second cousin somewhere in the distance. Right when a new mini van pulls up, you sprint through the crowd and say a silent prayer for their next victims.

With blood-red kiss marks on your face, you finally make it to your cousin. You’re relieved in finding salvation in someone your own age. But after making a few jokes about the family another realization creeps in: this is all you have in common.

Drowning, you throw out some pop culture references, a joke about old times. The moments of silence consume you as you bring up the weather. Has cousin Jamie always been this awkward?

Desperately, you comb the area for your parents. They are nowhere to be found.

In a second attempt to escape, you pull out your cell phone to distract yourself from the madness. You download games you’ve never played and start unnecessary conversations over text. Just when you’re okay with candy crushing and snap chatting Alex from biology, you jump as someone grabs you from behind.

“You kids and your cell phones,” creeks a voice.

A cold chill runs down your spine as you realize it’s the uncle who thinks he’s funny that everyone tries to avoid. He’s caught you.

Not only do you replay the same conversations you’ve just had about school being good and work being “the same,” but now you have to conjure up some fake chuckles to combat the desperate jokes being launched your way.

Finally when it’s time to eat and you’ve stuffed your plate with 12 different types of potato salad, the worst part of the evening is upon you: choosing a place to sit.

There are two types of people at family reunions: the very old and the very young. You, however, are neither.

At the kids table you’ll be stuck babysitting all the cousins that will surely leave juice stains on all your clothes.

On the other hand, you could be having the nightmare small talk conversation again….but in a group setting at the adult table.

You settle on sitting with the people who can barely talk and make peace with stained pants.

After dinner your dad comes over to you.

“It’s time to go.”

The torture has been endured. The feeding frenzy of small talk has come to a close. You try not to look too relieved as you saunter back to the car, defeated.

This Halloween, remember that making it through a haunted house will never compare the relief you feel after closing that mini van door.

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