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Halloween is next Wednesday. A day for the child within us all. Use this image for your own bit of atmospheric fantasy. 100 words is all you need!
I’ll start with a story …
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“There’ll be trick-or-treaters?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Kids today just seem too sophisticated for it anymore.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is jaded.”
“Oh. That. It’s just not like the old days.”
“Dearheart, today is never like the old days. That’s why they’re called The Old Days.”
“Hummph …”
“Look! A smile! Now don’t shake that shaggy grey head at me …”
“Sweetheart, you know me … way too well.”
“As luck would have it, there’s a gorgeous harvest moon tonight.”
They dropped to all fours and bounded out the door, his heart swelling with how much he loved her.
*************************************************
Now, it is your turn.
🎃
🎃
featured image is an original photograph and photoshop composite by Darleen Click
Where is she? She’s supposed to be here. That’s what the note said.
She always had a mysterious air about her, but this scavenger hunt was beyond ridiculous. It’d help if those clouds cleared up so he could see. Like that would help. He’d memorized the instructions on the train; one more look wouldn’t help.
Something moved, and he paused for a moment. Raccoon? Possum? Who knows what runs around out here in the boondocks? As he resumed his progress, he stumbled, dropping his duffel bag, narrowly missing a stone slab.
He glanced up and focused his gaze. Bingo.
Cameron says: “Trick or treat!” said the skeleton. I stepped away from the headstone, grinned at the boy and handed over a Milky Way. His eyes widened under the mask.
“Woah! This is better than Mrs. Daniels’s house! Thanks, mister!”
“You’re welcome, kiddo,” I said warmly. “You play any pranks yet?”
“Nah,” he replied. “Everyone’s been pretty good with candy this year.”
My tone abruptly changed and I dropped down to his level. “So you did what you wanted?”
He took off his mask and smiled wistfully. “I think so. Thanks again!”
“Happy Halloween,” I said as the ghost moved on.
Kirk S. says: The full moon lit the path next to the ruins atop the tor. A solitary figure scurried up the trail, the lunar rays illuminating the huffs and puffs of his labored breathing.
“Evan, you’re a fool,” he muttered as he clutched tightly to his cloak. “This is no place to be on Samhain, to be sure.” Wide eyed, he looked nervously over his shoulder at the empty path behind him.
He stumbled over a decayed grave marker, face first into frigid puddle of mud. Slowly, he wiped the muck from his eyes.
“Yep, you’re a fool. A bloody fool.”
Garland Twitty says: Light-hearted, I trudged up the hill in the twilight toward the massive old church and its cemetery.
Incredible amounts of light from the rising moon surrounded me. So peaceful.
It was the eve of All Hallows’ Day, and time to pay homage to the saints in my life.
Parents, grandparents, great-grandparents . . . Uncles and aunts.
Teachers of math, science, literature, music, . . .
Musical directors, arrangers, composers, colleagues . . .
Pastors, theologians, . . .
They mentored me, guided me . . .
Thanks be to God for all the saints.
[and thanks to Darleen and all the other contributors–wonderful stories]
Fletch says: The monsignor looked at the globe hanging low in the sky – a Solstice Moon, the full moon at winter solstice, coming once every 19 years and this the night of it. This, the night of the lunatics, the night of moon madness, the night darkness stalked the land – the longest night – and the moon twisting it.
He jumped at a shadow to his right. Probably nothing, just a cat, just a coon in a trashcan – nothing more. Then the shadow moved so he could see the winking eyes – misty white – full of moonlight and madness.
Tagmec says: The swollen moon rises over the tumbledown wreck of the Lathrop house. I lean back against a gravestone, too tired to run further. Old Eli Lathrop is dead, his evil ended at my hand…but too late, too late. The stars have aligned, the ritual has been fulfilled.
I look up, certain it will be the last time I see the sky I have always known. To think I once found the stars beautiful! I would bless the return of that ignorance, never knowing what horrible intelligence lay among the dark expanse and cold distant lights.
Soon now, they will arrive.
A dimly lit, stone cold and eerie night, dimly lit with full moons’ light, stones upon stones hold stories lived with in these ancient walls, some well forgotten but many shared among the country side by those who benefited from the time, talent and treasure from some of this castle’s occupants. Deserted now and only the stories best forgotten, now attract the visitors today, hoping to see or feel what rational folks customarily avoid because peace of mind is normally treasured. It has been said among the country folks, that those who sought the inexplicable, often left shocked, completely shaken.
Jennifer says: “Looks like a ‘fixer upper’ to me, Jonie,” Paul says.
Jonie replied, “Oh, cut it out. Let’s go look inside. It might have some charm.”
They walk up the entrance and a gust of wind blew through the bare trees. They both felt a sharp chill through their bones. 49
As they get closer to the door, it begins to downpour. They enter in the Realtor box code as fast as possible while their clothes soak up the rain. 76
Jonie and Paul enter the dark house timidly, there is a cold breeze that travels throughout the hallway.
They are greeted by a stray cat.
guinspen 
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