Personal Narrative: My Fall

I've always liked Fall. I like the falling leaves and warm spice drinks and chilly air and nice sweaters and the generally spooky vibes. Fall is a good time for me. Nothing beats it, not even the summer. The most important part, though, is Halloween. Halloween cotumes, loads of spooky-themed candy, costume parties, scary movies, everthing about it was something I looked forward to all year.

It's a tradition for my sister and I to make our Halloween costumes together and carve pumpkins - you know, the whole nine yards. Sometimes our dad would help, but usually it was just us and the dog outside. We would constantly be covered in some kind of paint or dye, whether it be fake blood, face paint, fabric paint, or some years even tea. (We got creative.) The costumes ended up being cool,

though, so we didn't mind much.
My sister, Brenn, was splashing fake blood onto a dress while I rolled black dye on the rumpled bottom of another. The dog, Willie, was lounging on the end of the porch closest to me, where we had tied him so that he could sunbathe, but there were clouds rolling in overhead. He seemed disgruntled by this fact, but then again he always seemed disgruntled.
Brenn stood up and huffed, stretching her back with her arms over her head. "This is not turning out as I'd hoped," she grumbled.
I looked over to see one huge splotch of red of the chest of the dress. "What are you even going as?" I sat my paint down and wiped off my hands.
"Man, I don't know.

I was hoping I'd figure it out when it was done, but I can tell you it isn't whatever this is."

I shook my head and stood up to walk over to her splotchy monstrosity of a dress and considered it for a moment. "Could you dye the whole thing red?"

"Just the entire thing? I guess..." She looked neither convinced nor impressed by my suggestion. "I don't want to, though. What would I do with a red dress? Maybe if I dyed it black?"

The only problem with that was we didn't have all the dye in the world. we both kept looking at it, our hands on our hips. If there was an obvious answer, neither of us could think of it. It was at this moment, however, that Willie decided we were done wasting his time and trotted over to get our attention. His tail smacked over the black paint I had been using , which splattered up the dress from the bottom. We both gaped down at the paint, slowly oozing farther and farther up the dress. Brenn's shoulders sagged as the paint stopped after slanting its way to the chest of the dress.

"Well . . ." She sighed, looking defeated. "What now? Do I start over?"

"You could," I said, nodding along,"or you could find something better to do with

it."
Brenn looked at me questioningly as I picked up the sopping dress and hung it from the clothesline that had gone unused except for our Halloween costumes for as long as we'd lived in that house. The paint and fake blood both dripped down the fabric in lethargic streams, weaving intricate patterns of red and black on all the clear surfaces. We stared at it some more and let it continue to drip onto the grass underneath it.
"It's not terrible," Brenn mused, which was the equivalent of jumping for joy for her.
"No," I agreed,"It's not."
"You know what I could do?"
"Hmm?"
"I could be - like - grunge Harley Quinn or something."
I shrugged.
"You seem excited for my genius idea," she said sarcastically and went back to the porch to finish the rest of her costume.
I followed her, but it turns out that Willie was much less helpful for me, as I found him sprawled out on his little weiner dog back, paws in the air, right on top of the unfinished costume.
"Thanks for the help, Wilfred," I grumbled, nudging him up with my foot."
"Want me to spill some paint on yours for you," Brenn snickered at me as she painted black dye onto the side of a sneaker.
I glared at her and sprayed her with tea from the bottle I was using for tea dying.