Ghost stories, grotesque pumpkins, extravagant costumes, and exorbitant quantities of sweets: that’s right, it’s Hallowe’en again. Nowadays this time of year arrives too quickly. But if I stop and think about it, my mind is flooded by the different friends with whom I’ve celebrated, and childhood memories of prancing around in the most decadent outfit I could find.

Pre-packaged outfits have lined the shelves of stores since mid-September, but as a kid it was always more fun to dig through the dressing up bin, or scramble together pieces from all over the house to make some fantastical disguise. Deciding what to wear happened months in advance. For years the schools costume parade consisted of full blown witches, superheroes, and a few complex outfits that had entire backstories.

Picking out the perfect gourd to modify was a task as endless as picking out a Christmas tree. Choosing and carving the right face became as much of a family affair as decorating said tree would be a month later. I remember scooping out gooey pumpkin innards, and designing gruesome albeit very simple images that often invoked smiles rather than shock from passers by, but it was still worth it.

Early in the evening of the 31st, us neighbourhood kids would go running around to different houses, half-full bag of candy in hand and parents traipsing along in tow. Maybe you were one of the kids who ate all the sweets as soon as you got it, as a snack between houses. Or maybe you were like me and laid each piece out, admiring your stash before beginning to devour it. Hallowe’en was the one time a year when even adults deemed it fully socially acceptable for kids to dress up, scare each other, and eat more junk than any doctor in their right mind would recommend. And we revelled in it.

For a while. Flash forward to the end of middle school. The friends were still there, and free sweets were great, but was it still worth the strange looks, freezing cold, and effort of coming up with a great costume? It was during those years that I learned the joys of horror movies. Nothing is quite as bonding as everyone shrieking when your friend’s cat jumps on you just as Freddie Krueger’s nails pierce unexpectedly through a mirror. I still have a small scar from where my friend scratched me in the middle of Insidious 2. To this day that’s the closest I’ve ever come to getting a tattoo of someone’s name. Definitely bonding. And with that new kind of ritual we managed to preserve some of the magic of Hallowe’en.

But even that began to fade. For those who weren’t scared by the horror flicks, high school parties followed shortly. Costumes were mandatory of course, but over time many of them became more and more last minute. We were already pretending to be full on grown ups; there wasn’t much need to put on another mask.

By the time my first year of university rolled around, amid essay deadlines, fresher’s flu, and a million new faces I still couldn’t match with names, I didn’t even realize it was Hallowe’en until barely two days in advance. The result was a hastily thrown together pillowcase and fake blood style outfit. The college bar was filled with many similar concoctions: zombies were people who had ripped their shirt, and vampires were dressed in all black. A few diehards persisted with full outfits, props, and facepaint that likely took hours, but they were a rare breed last Hallowe’en. For those who chose to celebrate the night ended in Spoons, and dressing up was a game of meeting the bare minimum.

“Don’t let down the kid inside” a friend once said to me. While it might not be the most elegant quote, it certainly is poignant, and unfortunately I think Hallowe’en is one of those times when we, or at least I, have failed. Make no mistake, Hallowe’en is still an enjoyable way to spend time with friends, but it’s no longer special. The mystery and magic that used to swirl amongst the falling leaves has faded. Somewhere along the way we became too busy and grown up to dedicate an evening to pumpkin carving, screeching shamelessly during horror films, and getting drunk off sweets.

This year I challenge you to change that. Grab some of your friends, take a few hours out of your busy university schedule, and relive some of those childhood rituals – or more satanic, spiritual ones if you want to be historically accurate. Come on, it’ll be fun, I promise!