KRENSHAW AND THE HALLOWEEN PARTY
- Monthly Issue Contributor
- May 28
- 3 min read
Updated: 6 days ago
By: Karys Rhea
MAY 2025 ISSUE
FICTION
Editor: Kayla Tellington

It was Halloween. The year was 2012, and the residents at 13 Thames Street were throwing a party with live music, arts & crafts, and enough booze and marijuana to last all night.
Krenshaw was nervous about going. She didn’t feel like dressing up and was still distraught over the drama that had unfolded between her and Snowcone drummer Alec Beekman.
Reluctantly, she made an appearance. Upon her arrival, she was instantly handed a joint. She took one, long, deep hit and instantly felt better.
The night was going swimmingly. At one point, Krenshaw thought she spotted Alec in the crowd, but it turned out to be a girl dressed like Alec, wearing black converse sneakers and a short red skirt.
Krenshaw did see Snowcone frontman Gavin Slanders and bassist Jake Godman there. The band had recently left New York for a 10-day tour of the East Coast. They deliberately left one of their stage monitors at 13 Thames, which was wirelessly connected to the other gear they had taken on tour. Gavin and Jake had come back to Brooklyn to hear how it sounded.
Krenshaw wondered if they were going to come back to Brooklyn after every show. It seemed like a huge waste of time and effort. Either way, it was awfully nice of the boys at 13 Thames to let Snowcone store such a massive piece of equipment there.
Krenshaw was having fun until the weed wore off and she slipped back into a familiar state of loneliness. She was hungry and hadn’t eaten a substantial meal in over a week, so she figured it would be best to chow down while she had an appetite.
She found some gourmet banana bread in a box on the living room table and cut herself a sliver. The flavor tasted sufficiently tangy and dense, but the texture felt a little dry – certainly not as moist as the banana bread her father sold at his bakery. Still, it hit the spot and she wanted more, but didn’t know whose banana bread it was. She didn’t want to steal someone else’s food, so she decided to hit the bodega around the corner. If they didn’t carry banana bread, she would settle for a Lindt white-chocolate coconut bar.
But Krenshaw never made it to the bodega. After leaving 13 Thames, she found herself in an old church packed with people praying and handing out leaflets with information about the hurricane that had recently ravaged New York City, killing over 40 people and leaving hundreds homeless. A preacher was going on about the afterlife and Krenshaw immediately felt uncomfortable. She also had to pee. She walked through the lobby of the church to the restroom.
A group of girls were inside, changing into costumes and doing each other’s makeup. Krenshaw walked past them and into a stall. When she was finished, she opened the stall door and started making conversation. One of the girls was smiling flirtatiously at Krenshaw and asked if she wanted to grab a bite to eat.
“I was just on my way to Brooklyn Natural actually to get some banana bread,” said Krenshaw.
“I love banana bread! I’ll come with you,” exclaimed the girl.
“Sounds good. So…are you ladies partying tonight?” Krenshaw asked.
“Yeah! We’re going to the Canal Halloween bash later.”
“Is that in Manhattan?”
“Yep. You should come!”
Krenshaw chuckled. “There’s no way I’m doing Manhattan right now….Sorry.”
“Ok. Well, if you ever wanna hang out, I’d love to take you out on a date,” said the girl, evidently disappointed.
Krenshaw briefly considered it. The girl had a pretty face but not a particularly attractive physique. Still, she gave the girl her number and headed back to 13 Thames.
When she got there, she saw a dude with messy hair and glasses hovering over the kitchen table immersed in some sort of art project. He seemed angry.
“Where’s my banana bread?” he yelled. “I need it for my art project!”
“I only took a little sliver, I swear!” admitted Krenshaw. “But I didn’t move it. It should still be over here.” She grabbed the banana bread from the living room table and handed it to the guy.
He was relieved, and Krenshaw felt embarrassed, but she shrugged it off and mingled through the party, pondering the irony of meeting a gay chick right after all of that drama with Alec.
Krenshaw resisted the urge to call him up and tell him about it.
Instead, she went home and cried herself to sleep.

Karys Rhea
Karys Rhea writes absurdist short stories. They are exceedingly short. They are exceedingly
absurd. If you happen to have read one and didn't get it, then you did.
For more information:
House of Grief
Comments