The first stories I told as a kid were ghost stories. You know the ones I’m taking about. The mysterious drip that came from nowhere. The woman with a ribbon around her neck. The hook in the car door. The Lady in White. The list goes on and on, but they were stories we told each other at slumber parties, at recess, and especially at Halloween.
As an adult, I look back at those stories with a hint of longing. Longing for the time when Halloween was atmospheric and eerie. Now it feels more repulsive and gory. Scary yes, gruesome no. Whatever happened to The Wolves of Willoughby Chase or The Watcher in the Woods? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, please look them up as examples of stories with real atmosphere.
Being a writer has made me more proactive. If I feel there’s an absence of something I want to read, instead of complaining I write it. So, despite being a rather mediocre poet for some reason Halloween puts me in mind to rhyme.
All Hallows Evening
Hide in thickets
What was sought
You’ve been caught
Night of Hallows
Until the morrows