We have already established, I have a keen awareness to curses and the cursed, the damned and the unrested. So, let’s begin with the caution tape already surrounding this scene of the crime; we call every year upon Halloween time. Watch where you step! There’re people down there; “sleeping”, let’s hope. Do not disturb, take heed, and take notes! You’ll be throwing those shoes away later, I promise. Hopefully they’re still with you by the end of the night, and before dawns early light.
We must whisper softly, for our voices carry, and we want to be respectful. Never speak ill of the dead, and we should tread lightly; Folsom has many potholes, half empty graves, zombie filled (“nuclear” or radioactive) toxic wasteland, sacred Indian burial grounds on Federal land, a removed ancient Chinese cemetery (relocated), built on top of an existing abandoned ghost town.
“Pumpkin” (yah, you), bring your flashlight, travel Bible, passport, ID, Holy water, and your purse; sneakers and jeans for this jaunty, trickery filled fright fest. Layer and limber up! Our costumes aren’t ready yet!
Maybe ghost town’s “got ghosted” for a reason. All up and down California, is rich history from beyond, oozing out of the rocks and cliffs, waiting and drifting along for judgement day, a host, a human sacrifice, the reckoning, the rapture; or vengeance, havoc, sadness, disorientation, lost, and utter confusion. So apocalyptic and cryptic! You name it, California has it! Big foot sightings in Humboldt. Mount Shasta has a secret alien base (shh). Don’t get me started on Fairfield!
Also submerged out in the ocean, a magical continent (Lemuria, and Moo). Lemuria known for its advancements, mysticism, and unicorns. Tasty morsel of info; that’s where my “Pegasus” is from. Not an actual unicorn (different genealogy on mother Medusa’s side; father, Poseidon, a thoroughbred pedigree that has the capabilities of flight). Pegasus has wings of silver, blue, and white; to soar and fly to the moon with at night. If the need should ever arrive, Pegasus will take us out for a midnight ride.
Off the coast of southern California, out in the great wide, vast, blue Pacific Ocean; unknown lights to view at crazy speeds and maneuvers just, “not possible” in this time. Or is it? Maybe aliens: and not the lack of a green card kind, but we have those too and I really can’t mind. I still can’t seem to find my paperwork or what I even came in here, looking for!
Oh, and ghosts; many, many specters (some with the same last name too boot; freaks of/to nature) and phantoms that bump, hump, moan, and groan in the middle of the night, all out of body and vanity, to no one’s delight. We have out-west ghosts, like Wyatt Earp residing at the Grand Horton Hotel in San Diego, extending from his tombstone.
Lawyers, guns, and money aren’t the only things worth sightseeing in the Gaslamp District of downtown, San Diego. Probably, on my short list, one of the top thirteen most beautiful, haunting, mysterious, and finest places to visit in California and one of our “pit stops” for this festive excursion.
“The Horton Grand Hotel is a 4 story, 110 room, 24 suite Victorian-era Hotel which came to being as a result of restoring two old historic hotels.” Take the elevator with Ida and step back into the frightful 1800’s. “Ida”, a spooky doll, emulating a fabric filled, disembodied “mascot”, of the hotel’s first fiery and feisty Madame Bailey. Her haunting gaze transfixed on your every move. Appearing to calculate and report to her lower constitutes, where and how long you’ll be enjoying your “visit”.
Que twilight zone music intertwined like a web with the “Victorian era” decorations over our heads. Quite a spooky elevator ride up too our suite for the “sweet”. I’m pretty positive, they didn’t have elevator inspections on a regular basis, back in those days. I’m also positive safety of any kind wasn’t a primary precaution and more of a nuisance, not permitted or tolerated.
These ghosts pack some “heat”! I’m only unpacking for one overnight “retreat”, sort of speak. Check out is as early or late depending on the shake of the plans for the next day events or the terrors from the night before.
An over 80-year-old paper-mache horse named, “Sunshine”, will entrance you upon your admittance back in time. Room 309’s diary is a fascinating page turner and what could be better with a flip; than a hot toddy, or a gin sling drink to “warm your cochleas”. “This contrivance of his did inwardly rejoice the cockles of his heart,” wrote John Eachard (Observations upon the Answer to Contempt of Clergy, 1671).” The term still enjoyed over 350 years later, the clergy; not as much.
Not going as an outlaw, cowboy, prostitute, or gypsy this year; for your costume? Not after your stay and hearing about a raid. I must mention, if you are going to get ice late at night, avoid the armoire; said a man was shot and killed trying to “hideout” in there. Scary as hell; had us running back to our suite retreat for safety and sleep, not one wink.
Let’s aboard the pirate ghost ship and take the voyage up to Long Beach and “talk” the Queen Mary over a bit. Are you entertaining a sailor, pirate, captain, wench costume or a themed getaway; tailored to an unforgettable, unthinkable, and unsinkable night?
Some say, The Queen Mary is one of the most haunted floating hotels and places in the world; with over 150 spirits lurking around and about, but can host well over 2000 living guests, with pulses startling in delight. Can you feel your blood pressure rising or is that just the swelling of the boat “rocking”, rising up from the everlasting dark sea?
Draping the halls, “energies” all around, as we sway to the beat of an unworldly drum. What else do they have to do, let them join in our fun? Just for comparisons sake and because it’s Halloween, The Queen Mary is 15% longer than the Titanic and 28% wider. According to Wikipedia: “The RMS Queen Mary is a retired British ocean liner that sailed primarily on the North Atlantic Ocean from 1936 to 1967 for the Cunard-White Star Line and was built by John Brown & Company in Clydebank, Scotland.”
The Queen dominated along with sister, RMS Queen Elizabeth, the “transatlantic passenger transportation market until the dawn of the jet age in the late 1950s.” Went all around the world, New York, WWII and now rests over 80,000 pounds; proudly docked upon Long Beach’s shore.
Standing upon the ethereal and surreal third top deck, the height alone; breathtaking and immense. The cold from the water felt more than 100 stories tall: we’re not taking any plunge, that’s for sure. Bring your life vest, just in case; that’s a drop to your death, make no mistake. I’m not leaving by plank.
I’ve been there before and not in a dream, but followed a tour guide, down to the boiler room, the haunted pool, and stood by the number 13, bulkhead door. That door fatally and terminally smashed a documented fireman (Pedder) doing a routine drill into smithereens. “Over the past 60 years, the Queen Mary has been the site of at least 49 reported deaths, not to mention having gone through the terrors of war, so it comes as no surprise that spectral spirits of her vivid past continue to walk within her rooms.”
We should stop by the Queen’s Salon and say our farewells to the “White Lady” at the bar. As we clink our tequila sunrises together in a toast of merriment and joy. “The night is young, and so are we; three cheers for us and forever good company!” Always keep eye contact, while you toast; we don’t want bad luck or a hangover to nurse.
Three tequilas later; “where are we!?” I would be remiss at 282 feet below sea level in the Badwater Basin, if I didn’t point out the existence to the lowest point in North America and a drive through 1000 miles of roads and desert throughout California and Nevada. Notorious, infamous, expansive, and mysterious; called Death Valley (appropriately named) and are “jaunt” to the next party destination of tonight’s specialized events.
The trick you see here, what appears to be a scattered dusting of snow, is none other than salt. “After thousands of years, enough salts have settled here at the bottom of the continent to create this vast landscape that tricks the senses.”
No margarita, please! Aqua, por favor, para mi. One might think, they have entered the Zona del Silencio; but that’s a “hop, skip, and a jump away,” for an unidentified flying object, or an orb, or an underground traveling advanced, reptilian society. You have to admit; four legs and a tail are much faster than two. I didn’t need to take physics to spell it out for you.
There’s no way to “beat this heat,” and we will be “peeling out” and hopefully not radar tracked, abducted, satellite “picked off”, or ticketed by our awesome highway patrol for speeding out of hell. “In July 2018, the hottest place on Earth experienced its hottest month on record.”
“The average temperature was 108.1⁰F including overnight lows.” “Daytime highs reached a temperature of 127⁰F for four days in a row.” I’m not dressing as a witch, for I’m already melting out here in the desert adrift.
Often no cell coverage in the park, so stay hydrated and far from this scorching unforgiving desert of night crawling 700 pound boulders, singing sand dunes, underground cities, roadrunners and wiry coyotes, scorpions, the devil’s golf course, winding through Artist’s Drive (“an unbelievable area of multicolored, eroded hills of blue, greens, and purples”), lead and silver mines, the Ubehebe Crater (600 feet deep, half a mile wide, and thought to be formed 2100 years ago), 93 degree waters of Devils Hole, one of the world’s rarest fish (“the endangered Devils Hole Pupfish”), and well “over 3 million acres of designated wilderness and hundreds of miles of backcountry roads”.
We’ll leave no trace that we ever came, since it appears that humans nor shade, haven’t graced those badlands in quite some time. Luckily, we travel lightning fast with a jaguar coupe and 380 horsepower. Not on a horse with no name, coming in from the rain.
Indian folklore abounds and a haggard tune for the road. There’s an overkill “talk” about diablo in Death Valley and giving me sweaty chills. Let’s look for the next exit as soon as possible. Can’t lie when I say, it’s like driving on Mars, looking back in my rear-view mirror.
I’m picking up dust and melting some rubber on a lost highway out from the dark abyss of the desert. Plan on dropping a few coins in the nickel machines at the famous casinos for all eternity and spare a tip for valet parking. Who knows, you might win a fortune!
There’s an underground garage in lieu of a front porch, portal into purgatory with spectacular views. Over yonder and through the dense forest full of trees, stories emerge beyond the truth. Daring someone to the lair of destructive vices, with a flick of the dice and a spin through excessive bad choices. Spin the wheel of untold fortunes, trust you won’t lose your soul and pants off for nothing!
An inconspicuous and innocuous place and name for it too; boom town and the undead family fun center bound. Bells, whistles, sparkling lights; all to entice! What an evening, thus far; are you “drinking” it all in, “Pumpkin”?
We can’t stay long; just enough time for the buffet line to build back our strength. “Where did the fresh fish come from”, escaped my lips? “You don’t want to know”, said the girl from Reno.
Scantily clad with barely enough left for the imagination, “servers” bringing “bottomless” spirits for your endless visitation and pleasures. Silver trays of cocktails that pack a wallop, and eventually leaving one with an empty wallet. Windowless, so not to know that time still exists, whilst you barter for your very own future’s existence.
Scientology washed up and formed on our shores and is said to have created a “space” from a well-known home. Ushered banshees from a cloud of smoke and left that owner who ceased to be no more. Actually, and originally, used to summon a sexual goddess, unfortunately appears to have been a succubus. What is occult madness for 500, Alex. Now occupied by a rock legend of heavenly proportions; that will take you to a famous stairway into heaven and likely an acid trip for the “digital” ages.
Yeti’s, demons, witches, warlocks, and werewolf tales around the campfires invoked. Oh, and actual beings with lizard tales (no joke), to completely confound; all the while “living”, and dwelling underground. Hauntings, poltergeists, vampires, serial killers, possessions, zodiac obsessed, and occult rituals; laced throughout seemingly everywhere in this golden state.
If not one thing, came another, and pretty soon the dog didn’t just eat my homework, but spoke of the devil intruding and corrupting another. Said something random, quite different, and off topic. It all ends up, bottoms up, and regurgitates on the chopping block of the courtroom, battlefield, movie screen floor.
Folsom prison, and really all the California prisons, prisoners, guards, and grounds are haunted and cursed with harrowing stories, straight from hell. It’s like Lord from the underworld himself has scribed his own diary, writing and dictating from his tower of inferno.
Like hell has its own publishing company stamped and damned for eternal approval. Don’t forget to clock out! Time adjustments are a hassle, and will lead to a warning, next a write-up. Never fret; hell doesn’t fire. You are just reassigned to a lessor, hotter, project. One might pray for termination, or for at least a suspension!
Maybe it’s the magic of Hollywood that creates these tragic misfortunes and miseries or enjoys the sinful art of retelling “locked-up” history, for entertainment purposes only. For internal and external use, must be prescribed by your doctor, physician, or a licensed nurse.
Over the counter and behind the glass, medications for your weekend bonanza a “blast”. Read your warning labels, folks. Magic can manifest and it’s not always pleasant or illustrious; more assuredly, infamous and outrageous.
Beyond imagination, logic, science, rationale, and math lies a sheer veil between other “worlds”. I believe can be identified on a “map”. The earth’s magnetic lines and poles, geometrical forces, combined with the rotation and energy of our planet, and aligned so exactly to our moon; we can only begin to understand and comprehend everything else and how that pertains to “self”. A veil so thin, that around All Hallows Eve; the worlds can collide and be seen.
Many, including myself, have studied the validity of such a veil. Concluded, we only “know” so much; and that’s a lofty, at the most, 10 percent. Across this planet, Ouija board, Akashic record, chess table, and lounge chair in between; we are obtaining and absorbing as much as we can learn. In a short period, humankind is advancing at warp speed. No brakes deployed and no end in sight, forever stopping.
As of this day, Captain Kirk, just returned from space. We are making rapid strides, leaps and bounds. Heaping full and reaping what we sow. Like Plato, speaking of Socrates after a visit with the Oracle of Delphi, says “I know that I know nothing”. It is also called the Socratic paradox. No time to stop!
In the Bible, the reference to the veil is the symbolism of being separated from God. In Mexico it’s called Dias de Muertos, and is beautifully, respectfully, and religiously celebrated. Being a predominantly Catholic country and I being expelled from a Catholic school; felt a connection to this country, food, music, and robust culture.
Halloween so similar, and I have thoroughly reveled in their customs and exquisite traditions. Not to mention, they are pretty people. In California, being so close to Mexico; many traditions, stories, art, culture, food, persuasion, tattoos, and language get passed along by word of mouth and a silver tongue.
Halloween was considered taboo, voodoo, and paganism wrapped into a “sweet” “trick or treat” emblem. Mesmerizing to watch, captivating to “look” at, and intriguing to learn about; but scary sometimes terrifying, to be involved with. I dabbled in reading up on the “desert fathers”, scribes, and monks (one monk named, Evagrius Ponticus’ who listed eight evil thoughts and pupil John Cassian, with his book The Institutes), who allegedly “pinned” the seven deadly sins and put names to the daemons that plague humanity, and asked way to many questions for the fine people of Cali.
The seven deadly sins are the counterintuitive parts associated with the seven heavenly virtues or fruits of wisdom. The charioteer of the virtues is prudence; having the ability to control and govern oneself by the use of reason and logic. The virtue that regulates how we communicate and mesh with others; “connected to justice are the virtues of religion, piety, and gratitude”. Thirdly, “patience and perseverance are virtues related to fortitude,” and while you are waiting; can I interest you in a refreshment?
It’s time to read up and take a “crash course” on our “book of wisdom”. “Wisdom is the perfection of knowledge of the righteous as a gift from God showing itself in action.” “In direct relation to God, Wisdom is with God from all eternity.”
Like a moth to flame, I absorb knowledge and thirst for more. For I felt displaced and wanted to get acquainted with my new city, town, school, work, and abode. I had already experienced a few hauntings, so this wasn’t my first rodeo.
That being said, I can assuredly tell you; Folsom, California is so haunted, and rodeos are barbaric. Well, mainly the older areas, and since barricaded from the public; off limits, forbidden, no trespassing, State or Federal property, surveillance, and will shoot on site signage. You can still buy these unwelcoming “signs” at all the major retailers today.
Have one delivered to your apartment, fortress, castle, bunker, or steel enforced domain, all with just a click of a button away. Abracadabra, I want to reach out and “sell” you. I have had the unfortunate, fortunate opportunity to work for and with a few; shall we say, “Titans”. But, alas, some amazing, otherworldly, life-changing people, places, stories, and skills to share. Bring a sweater, the sun’s going down.
Might as well start at the origins of the crime scene and our first formidable deadly sin, or cardinal sin; “corruption of the mind” (vainglory, despair, pride (superbia), and discouragement). Younger school years, my own mother dressed me up as Mrs. Claus for the Halloween costume contest. I begged to go as the grapes of wrath, from the years prior.
My grapes were a huge success, and everyone oohed and awed over my mother’s clever and crafty work. “Nope, this is so much cuter and you’ll for sure win this year’, she muttered. I won and I hated that costume, it was humiliating and my first introduction to conformity at another’s command. Didn’t completely ruin all hallows eve, for me, like intended.
People are definitely strange, when you are a stranger. I’m defiantly not a stranger to the abnormal; only the ever elusive, hard to obtain, what’s construed as “normal”. Fitting in anywhere is a bit of a challenge. People will let you know their true intentions and I’ve always received, “not everybody’s demons are going to like you”. Shocker!
Coming from the chain-smokers wielding chainsaws, we must avoid the hurled instigation and classic provocation, “I’ve got an axe to grind with you!” “Don’t get in the mud, Pumpkin”! “We’re not looking for any bones to pick this night.”
Grave robbers we shall avoid and take our blindfold’s off and put our masks back on. “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil”; better yet; feel no evil, believe no evil, be no evil. It’s a good thing, I don’t scare so easy.
I’ve noticed as an “outsider” that, humans want to appear as they belong, more importantly than actually belonging. “What we fear, we create”. Apparently, we are born with only two fears, everything else manufactured throughout our lifetimes. The fear of falling and the fear of being abandoned to the point of starvation. Who’s hungry?
Halloween decorations and candy corn are so enticing with more “frosting” each year. Marketing and advertising at its finest. Took an entire course on subliminal messaging. If you’re really good, you can convince yourself that your own thoughts and ideas are yours alone.
Ah, not so fast! Everything the eye can behold, has been created, tested, and “tried true”. Likely, with animal abuse; to capture that smoky eye aesthetically alluring makeup (you “love and have to have”), or those thigh high leather boots, for one time wear.
Hocus pocus; focus groups, magazines, newspaper publications, journals, social media, retail outlets, band wagons, food trucks, and apparel today pine over every detail for their brands, and products. “The Devil is in the details.”
For sale by an owner who is a nonprofit organization for charity and exempt from any and all liability. Even charities host mammon, greed, lust, and gluttony, in this pumpkin pale to hold all your candy.
“Greed is a sin against God,” wrote Thomas Aquinas, and in my humble opinion, the most prevalent and widespread sin today. We want, what we want, when we want it. Instant (more like constant) gratification, an app, text, delivery; is not quick enough anymore and the temper tantrums are building, faster and more furious each day.
The rules no longer apply, and everyone is “playing” God. This reminds me, what or who, will you be wearing this Halloween night? “Be careful, what you wish for…!”
One infamous Halloween, I wanted to go as Medusa; with animatronic snakes. I was going to use one of those hair caps, that you pull strands of hair through to highlight with noxious chemicals to lighten and brighten your “do”. We called it “frosting” back in the 80’s.
Attached were rubber snakes, but it looked so scary and when they flapped against my face; completely “freaked me out”! There just weren’t many people reading juicy Greek mythology. Rather, romance novels; that just couldn’t “hold a candle” next to Greece and their dramatic, fantastical, tragedies.
I dove straight in like a swan, for the tales of these mysterious, gorgeous, and combative figures, too salacious for words. I asked my professor, if the people of that time, believed these stories to be true. Definitively and poignantly stated, this is Greece’s ancient history; believed, worshipped, and revealed prominently, stately, towering, statuesquely, as truth.
Today, Medusa, is a really cool rollercoaster and green screen monster for the movies and of the ages. In “historical” times, she “worked” for Athena, the Goddess of war, and had gorgeous hair, considered absolutely beautiful. Vastly different from her relatives (check that genealogy out; think your relatives are beasts?), she was the exception and an attractive mortal, to her detriment.
In the temple of Athena, there was said to be an encounter with Poseidon (“one of the Twelve Olympians in ancient Greek religion and myth, god of the sea, storms, earthquakes and horses.”), where Medusa was sexually violated. Athena, sided with Poseidon, and cursed Medusa; said to be “just and will deserved”.
Medusa, her pretty locks, now venomous snakes. Her gaze can turn any mortal to a stone statue. She was beheaded by Perseus, and after his use, given back to Athena to be placed on her shield. Her name actually means to guard and protect. “The envy of the devil brought death to the world.”
The only thing that can weigh the soul heavier than envy is pride among the capital sins. In Dante’s Purgatory, “the punishment for the envious is to have their eyes sewn shut with wire because they gained sinful pleasure from seeing others brought low.”
I’m thinking twice about this costume. Recently discovered in our time, is an amulet of Medusa found by a likely Roman soldier, headed for England; and thusly the tale (pun intended) continues slithering on. Island hopping, we shall go!
This island girl, loves the ocean and according to my DNA, have always resided, dwelled, explored, and worked along shores for centuries. There are mystic islands, that appear out of the mist, and have amazing encounters with “beings” that have had super intelligence. Untapped “human” capabilities, red headed elongated skulled giants, shining and glowing beings, living in volcanoes, and unearthly skillsets (levitation, and telepathy among other things).
Islands that have vanished and vanquished, after explorations declaring war, coordinates, treasures, mermaids, sea monster’s (Kraken)”, bloodshed, and whereabouts. Islands with gargantuan heads and a robot; and some with lore of enormous black bunnies who frolic. Pixies, fairies, and seers foretold; some with maliciousness and some with mischievous agendas.
Always reported back; misty, mysterious, otherworldly, foggy, incomprehensible, inconceivable, untraceable, and unimaginable. We’re not even allowed on Antarctica! Need a special wrist band or glow in the dark hand stamp for that icy rave. All we can do is try again next year, for sure!
Islands with sea nymphs and enchantresses with limitless powers. Their sirens can sink ships with a sonnet. Music, muses, and wands all entered into our imaginations via an island route.
Not to mention the caves that have ushered and “birthed” these other worldly beings into our plain of existence. Zeus, Merlin, Davinci, and many others stemmed from roots protruding out from the rocks. This planet never ceases to amaze me! The older I get; the less shocked or doubtful, I become.
Let’s skip a rock over to a mythical island named Aeaea, now thought to be a peninsula off the coast of Italy. We don’t want to be “a glutton for punishment” and must inform, Circe, of our arrival; so, we shan’t be turned into a pig. I believe you should let people know when you are coming over; a heads up ensures good manners and avoids being a bother.
Also, here, we can address another vile deadly sin, gluttony. Many don the toga for a considered suitable costume. It’s easy with the white sheet wrapped around, loosely and the leaves used for headgear, also symbolic.
Different plants adorned for the various Gods. According to Wikipedia; “oak to Zeus, laurel to Apollo, herbs to Demeter, grapevine to Dionysus and myrtle to Aphrodite”. I’m allergic to oak trees, among so many other things. Now, I know why that’s been a conundrum rather than an enigma, for me.
The wreaths were also hugely significant and decorated the exceptional columns and pillars. Today we aren’t really aware of these traditions, there importance, historical figures, and much neglected reverence.
We hang our wreaths and our heads more for aesthetic purposes, rather than spiritual significance. We carry on with our amnesia packed in a light duffle bag, labeled Gucci, top rack.
Not to be confused with Calypso, who also held Odysseus from home after the Trojan war; had similar snarky personality traits. Homer said, Circe was “a dreadful goddess with lovely hair and human speech”. Others stated, just like all of Helios’s descendants and children; “they had flashing golden eyes that shot rays of light from them”.
Inarguably, the daughter to the sun God and a phenomenal muse for the ages. She’s inspired music, movies, paintings, art, books, and literature. Her likeness emulated even still today and for this occasion. Circe, the temptress, means falcon and she is very much associated with the birds of prey.
Circe’s costume entails a vine-leaf crown, holding a snake entwined goblet filled with a sweet aromatic smell. Poison or love potion numbers five through nine, presumed preference. As the fragrance she wears wafts through you and by, leaving time to the ages and less for the “sages”.
A snake bracelet dangling upon her thin left wrist, giving the allure of witchery, for all her “guests”. The flick of a wand also worn tightly through a golden sash around one’s waist, should finish her “look” in a flash. Remember not to imbibe too much, for glutenous behavior can morph a strong man into swine and a beautiful woman into a beast out of revenge.
We haven’t, yet, learned how to scramble a human’s DNA into an animal, but apparently there’s technology many moons ago, that could. Be careful, that it’s not this night, or full blue moon. There are many forms of gluttony, but essentially it is any form that leads to the point of waste, that is considered so foul and icky.
There are 5 forms or offenses. Violations include and are not limited, eating too expensively, overeating, eating too daintily, eating too soon. Lastly, ardenter (eating too eagerly); being the most severe. Always take “courtesy” with you as you go. “Manners are the shadows of virtue; and they cost nothing.” Never chew with your mouth open, and excuse yourself when you’ve had enough. “Reduce the goals of life to mere eating and drinking”. “Eat to live, and not the other way around”. Did I get us turned around?
Now, if you get turned into a vampire, black cat, green-eyed monster-mashed, a teenage werewolf or mutant turtle, your mom, or that’s just your costume; you should be aware of full moons, catnip, remedies, antidotes, garlic, silver bullets, and potent potables for your transformations back. The easy way or the hard way. Getting that make-up off the next day is a fright in itself.
We shouldn’t speak of vampires unless we are willing to fly out to Transylvania for a quick bite. We’ll fly by way of a silver bullet, with a famous count’s name, attached. I never did see the pilot or caught his name, especially when walking past a reflection in this world-class cabin’s plane.
Whilst we jet first-class, all of our plates and goblets made of pure silver and blood red stained glass. Dark tinted windows, casting a purple glow; shielded out the light, making one feel perpetual night. “Boy”, lazy recliners of maroon plush velvet seats, I could sit back and prop up my worn-out and tired feet. Circadian cycle set to snooze, doesn’t matter if it’s noon.
Sarmale, “this is a real comfort food that you can find at every traditional Romanian wedding or celebration.” Polenta, usually served as a “side dish along with Sarmale, or served plain with sour cream and Romanian cheese, mamaliga is made from corn flour.” I’m going to stick with garlic fries and black robust coffee, because I’m lactose intolerant. Garlic just to keep around, for that 6-foot radius, above ground.
“A well-known intelligent, elegant and educated Romanian Lord, Vlad the Impaler was an important leader from Medieval Europe, who, during his reign, stopped the advancement of the Ottoman Empire towards Western Europe.” Dracula is the Slavonic genitive form of Dracul, meaning “(the son) of Dracul (or the Dragon)”. “In modern Romanian, Dracul means “the devil”, which contributed to Vlad’s reputation.” He didn’t give a damn about his bad reputation.
He was the second son of Vlad Dracul, who became the ruler of Wallachia in 1436. Vlad and his younger brother, Radu, were held as hostages in the Ottoman Empire in 1442 to secure their father’s loyalty. Vlad’s father and eldest brother, Mircea, were murdered after John Hunyadi, regent-governor of Hungary, invaded Wallachia in 1447. All the more reason to marry his daughter, who ended her life from a cliff. I can’t imagine that rsvp list or attending that matrimonial awkwardness. Cheers to wedded bliss!
Luckily, we aren’t traveling in the time period of the Ottomans or of Vlad, otherwise we’d encounter the “forest of the impaled” (thousands of stakes with the carcasses of executed people). According to Chalkokondyles and The Histories, “the rest of the Turks were dumbfounded when they saw the multitude of men on the stakes”. “There were infants too affixed to their mothers on the stakes, and birds had made their nests in their entrails”.
Smells malodorous and wretched, we should move down wind, far from the wicked, treacherous, deadliest sin, wrath. “If anger reaches the point of a deliberate desire to kill or seriously wound a neighbor, it is gravely against charity; it is a mortal sin.” “Hatred is the sin of desiring that someone else may suffer misfortune or evil and is a mortal sin when one desires grave harm. (CCC 2302–03)”
Wrath is tricky due to its purest forms of injury, violence, and hate. It has provoked wars, dissension, and antagonism from eons ago, long after the grievous, heinous incident or person has left this phase (Earth). Lasting for centuries and up until this actual date, and likely well into our futures; especially as of late.
According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, “the neutral act of anger becomes the sin of wrath when it is directed against an innocent person, when it is unduly strong or long-lasting, or when it desires excessive punishment.”
Studies recently acquired showing staggering results and data, that anger can be/go viral. “Achoo”, God Bless you; need a tissue? I don’t want you catching a chill! “Pumpkin”, we have a long night, still ahead, of way more thrills. At the bottom of my purse, you’ll find a “Ricola” for a sore throat or my “cough drop” of choice.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t like too “beat a dead horse”. The expression meaning ”attempt to revive interest in a worn-out topic”. And horse bones were discovered in Vlad’s presumed burial place (just like the Godfather, not really).
It was more likely he was buried in the first church of the Comana Monastery, which had been founded by Vlad and was close by the battlefield where he was killed. Physically, his life ended, but his legacy forever darkly shrouded.
No one actually knows the factual burial location, but what I can tell you is, never wish ill or the demise of anyone living or dead. Your very soul depends on it! See Egypt for references and a crocodile that will eat your heart if your soul weighs more than a feather of burden. Yikes!
We could stay in Greece, Alexandria, Egypt, USA, Europe, or the Middle East for the remaining deadly sins. There are countless stories and references pertaining to wrath. Wish we could put that genie back in the bottle. The bottle was actually a jar and so was Pandora’s box.
Curiosity spawns from lack of knowledge and here’s where we introduce Sloth, and the “keres” that plague humanity. Oops, “black cat caught your tongue?” It’s estimated that, that origin of, cat stole your breath, dates back to the Middle Ages, at its best.
One spooky legend has it, that witches’ cats would “steal” a person’s speech, so that the “sighting” could not be reported to the authorities. Kitty cats always make a great costume but depending on the weather; felines don’t like water.
So, Prometheus gave us fire, and Zeus became “pissed” and in retaliatory fashion, sent a “gift”. Her name Pandora, and the jar meant for her husband. Insatiable curiosity she could not quench and lifted the lid of plagues meant for all humanity.
Sickness, death, and a bunch of unmentioned ills spilled out. And even though Pandora closed this jar as quickly as she could, one remained inside, said to be (false) hope. More likely than not deceptive expectation, planned its snarly escape.
Pandora’s hair should be worn wild and free; red or dark preferred. A red plush velvet robe should be worn, and she carries an urn with a sphinx molded too and firm. A crown of hyacinths should be worn and adorned, displayed as an innocent with the closed lid jar.
“Although physical ills are among the plagues that torment humanity, greater emphasis is given to the disruptive passions which destroy and deleterious the possibility of harmonious living.” This is where, “open a can of worms”, or “can of whoop ass”, derived and stemmed. Brewed like an infectious glue, from a cauldron of deceptive stew.
Hesiod, thought to be around the same time as Homer; give or take a few, 700 BC. He was an ancient epic Greek poet, and his rare rhapsodies are still ringing true. Hesiod mentions and describes these spirits as “kakoi (evils), nosoi (sicknesses and plagues) and lugra (banes)”.
Hence, I suggest we avoid creepy crawlers this night of tangled webs we weave, can openers, spells, brews and stews, concoctions, and chiefly unmanaged mischief. We must slither our journey onward and the next capital vice on our quest. I’ll pride myself for picking up some bug spray at the store, before the next stop. Fumigate our minds and “defog” our thoughts.
Maybe a famous actor or actress, you would like to emulate and “dress up” as? You cannot miss the Marilyn Monroe’s costume, always on hand. Her scandalous tryst with a President and his brother left quite a Texas sized mess for the ages. Resulted in all of their untimely, ill-fated, tragic deaths.
White dress, cleavage a bust, diamond necklace, and long white gloves; this evening’s attire. Diamond bracelets, blonde curly coif, and red high heels, lips and nails too match; a must. We’ve just arrived for our red-carpet gala, and the next cardinal sin; lust is on the menu.
“Sins of the flesh are less grievous than spiritual sins.” In any case, a black widows web, is never safe to “move around”, in. Avoid the snares of lust; I promise there’s nothing your missing, you must trust. The glitz and the glam; all smoke and mirrors. Just more traps left to bewitch, bedazzle, and eventually, paralyze with fear.
Dante says, the lustful will spend eternity “in restless hurricane-like winds symbolic of their own lack of self-control of their lustful passions in earthly life”. Henry Edward Manning says the impurity of lust morphs one into “a slave of the devil”. It’s all too fleeting, and never really amounts to much; once you “cash-in”, this ticket, called Lady luck.
Indian wise tales say that a picture captures a piece of one’s soul for all eternity. Be careful, how many selfies you take tonight! Camera shy, we are not. In order to “feel” the presence of the spiritual Indians and shamans of wisdom in old times, one has to travel to an Indian casino, and let the spirit locate a slot.
Not as many “rain dances”, by the campfires anymore. Years of drought have savagely scorched “our” dead barren lands away from its original source. By the way, Pumpkin, we are not on American soil any longer. We’re far from “home”, this all hallows eve, out yonder.
The tree of life chopped and swapped for a table of cards, betting every last dollar, retirement, and house for sale. I will bet that too, and the car. I will refinance my mother’s house and dodge all her medical needs. Do deplorable things, all out of greed. Keep going back as if caught in a devil’s trance. Make excuses, conjure fake and distracting news; all the while so I can escape for a minute of chance.
Back to the against all odds and absurd calculations; that even if I won, would put it right back in, and for only a split second. Let me show you how to dispel a spell manufactured by a casino, a witch, gypsy, Jezebel, vixen or shrew, or Beelzebub himself. Get down on your knees and ask the good Lord to release you from all that deceives.
Red carpets are notorious for lights, cameras, and action! Cleopatra, Caesar, and Marcus Antony; amoral threesome of immortality, and a crowd pleaser for the costume enthusiastic. They’ll make their grand and royal appearance on the original, sinful, “red carpet”.
The last pharaoh of Egypt knows how to make an entrance. They’ll take you on a magical carpet ride by deception, politics, and distorted, twisted love for the entire season. Eternally, first-class with champagne, caviar, and deadly roses for no apparent reason.
Not mentioned before, histories consequences, an asp, the fall of empires, lost miles of knowledge under the sea, and everything destroyed. Our cocktail for this happy hour, is a mixture of “hemlock, wolfsbane, and opium”. I call it vermouth on steroids. And just like that and only a few hours, Cleopatra likely passed in this fashion; and not another.
Now just to put things in context and perspective; The library of Alexandria came to be regarded as the capital of knowledge and learning, in part because of the Great Library, itself. “It is unknown precisely how many such scrolls were housed at any given time, but estimates range from 40,000 to 400,000 at its height.”
Not even mentioning it’s glorious lighthouse of beauty and wonderment of the ancient world, but if one were to read a book in its entirety; it would amass over 7000 years to complete this library’s massive knowledge and wealth of untold, forgotten, waterlogged, destroyed, and forbidden history. Finally, after war upon war, and earthquakes galore; this ancient wonderment along with The Lighthouse; perished, burned, and swallowed up by the seashore.
“The library was part of a larger research institution called the Mouseion, which was dedicated to the Muses, the nine goddesses of the arts.” Some say three and others say nine, but the Muses most assuredly were divine. “The Muses are the inspirational goddesses of literature, science, and the arts.” They were considered the source of the knowledge embodied in the poetry and lyric songs, that were related orally for centuries in ancient Greek culture and myth”.
Don’t drink the punch or cool aid, Pumpkin! Probably, “roofied” (Rohypnol, is a powerful benzodiazepine that is a sedative prescribed to treat insomnia) or “ecstasy” (3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine, commonly known as ecstasy, E, or molly, is a psychoactive drug), said “Molly” from behind. You don’t want Halloween to be over and there’s not a lot of time.
I’m not waking up in a watery grave, or a bathtub full of ice; displaced, along with my kidneys on the “black market” of organ transplantations and horrible mistakes. Anyone offers you a drink, do not drink it or leave it unattended. It would be a shame to end this night in a deranged, someone’s oven.
Holding up the tail end of this glowing forever line, “Club 27” and they look divine! A concert of sorts from beyond, with a purple haze for ambience. “Take another piece of my heart”, the fans chimed; never actually intended and with absolutely, no fear in mind. Plenty of costumes to choose from this pull. Not actually a membership or a club, but an eerie statistical spike; in theory, psychological and sociological conjecture.
Solidified with Kurt Cobain in 1994; that an actual cultural phenomenon of grave proportions did occur. Due upon delivery and collected by the grim reaper himself. Janis, Jimmy, Brian, and Jim all passed between 1969-71. All at the exact age, becoming the four founders to form an incredible coincidental force.
Three years before Amy Winehouse passed, she expressed her impending doom of joining that infamous cast. “Fame may increase the risk of death among musicians, but this risk is not limited to age 27”.
“Death has often falsely been depicted as an evil spirit that preys on mortals.” “In truth, however, he is neither evil nor good, merely a force of nature and order.” The grim reaper came onto the seen around the 15th century and is wearing a fashionable pitch-black robe and carrying a scythe on his trim svelte skeletal corpse. Now if the workers comp doctor has you on a no more than 5lb pick up weight, you’d better decide on a less heavy costume, maybe a rake.
Mr. Reaper also wears an hourglass; ticking away the sands of time, he serves to the ending of life and grants a soul, safe passage through to the afterworld. He neither destroys or lies in judgement; merely a guide to reach another realm of continued soul “development”.
Behold our grand finale, while everyone takes a seat for this royal séance, guaranteed treat. “A mambo (also written as manbo) is a priestess (as opposed to the houngan, or male priest) in the Haitian Vodou religion.” “For instance, the term mambo derives from the Fon word nanbo (“mother of magic”).”
Our next grand introduction, and last pit spot for this evening’s functions full of high-speed excursions; we’ll pick up Marie Laveau at her home on St. Anne Street, then pop over to the cemetery in “Nawlins”.
“As of March 1, 2015, there is no longer public access to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.” “Entry with a tour guide is required because of continued vandalism and the destruction of tombs.” She is frequently described as a ‘Voodoo queen’. “At the time of her death, The New York Times, The New Orleans Daily Picayune, the Daily States and other news sources describe her as “woman of great beauty, intellect, and charisma who was also pious, charitable, and a skilled herbal healer.”
“Marie Catherine Laveau (September 10, 1801 – June 15, 1881) was a Louisiana Creole practitioner of Voodoo, herbalist and midwife who was renowned in New Orleans.” “Her daughter, Marie Laveau II, (1827–c. 1862) also practiced root work, conjure, Native American and African spiritualism as well as Louisiana Voodoo.” Who’s up for some Hoodoo Voodoo and a smidge of black magick, this Samhain?
“Marie Laveau, the legendary yellow woman, was a subject of wonder and terror for many generations.” Standing before us, arms open to greet; the two Marie’s escort us to our seats. Both Marie’s wear bright yellow dresses, one wears an evening gown and the other wears a bustle dress. Both fabulous headdresses; the daughters of royal purple, and mom’s a luminescent gold, glistening from the woven silver thread.
Gris-gris is a Voodoo amulet originating in Africa, which is believed to protect the wearer from evil or bring luck to all who inhabit. Chosen a saint’s symbol along with a cross, worn around her neck, as she pulled out my seat, in a grand gesture.
“We were expecting you, and ever so glad you are here”, she spoke without her lips moving, but I could still hear. “Alas this night has finally come, and there are many ancestral specters that wish to extend; advice along with many cautionary fates”.
Massive round table upon entering this candlelit room. Green velvet tablecloth of the finest material. There must be a thousand candles in here, I assumed. An out of this world alter standing behind one Marie of white marble; extraordinary.
Looking about, one couldn’t help but feel a hefty amount. For my family ancestors were making an appearance. I didn’t know they ever existed! I figured a close relative or two, not William the Conqueror (my great-not-so-great-great grandfather).
Astral gliding and intuitive awareness made me acclimate to my surroundings, rather briskly and quickly. I’ve just realized, we entered a crypt that extends underground for miles adrift. A white raven in one corner, named Edgar (short for a famous poet), and a white owl the opposite side, named Maya (short for Mayan mythology of the owl being a messenger from Isis), and a black snake slithering on the table, nearby. Black head, brown crossbands and white lines running from the corner of its eyes, allude this is a cottonmouth snake; venomous and deadly by far.
Annoyed by my presence (as they always are) and to my complete astonishment, named Lerna for short. An offspring of the Hydra, indubitably, of course. Marie snapped her long fingernails together and on cue, like a good pet, Lerna slithered up her arm and became a bangled bracelet of onyx and gold.
Now that is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, I thought to myself! Best magic trick ever, my mouth gapping wide open! Is this what Moses did to the Pharaohs’? As if she heard my thoughts, a snicker escaped from the side of her mouth. A smidgeon shown of flickering glee, amused by none other than me.
“Do you remember me,” as she placed her hands on my shoulders? Honesty has always been my best policy and truth be told; I didn’t know anything! Dumbfounded, I said, “I’m sorry, no.” Marie’s eyes pierced right threw me and my soul. Stated matter-of-factly, “we were together as monks, in a past life.” “We lived in a hidden mountain and worshipped together (God) side-by-side.”
Like a jolt went through me, I actually have had that reoccurring dream; exactly how she described, flooding my memory. That was an out of body moment, I couldn’t deny. “We know each other, many times over,” she translated to me without an audible syllable.
“First things first”, she sat down at the head of the table, the alter behind her. “Before, your family comes through this night; I must inform you of a very dark entity that follows and stalks you day and night.” The room fell deafeningly silent, and the air became so cold, I could see my breath before me.
“It can no longer continue its evil plans of plight”. “She-devil is attached to the love of your life, your soulmate, and better half.” “She didn’t want him but wanted him with no one else.” “Her curse attached to you the source of all her hatred”. “After tonight she may not ever again awaken.”
“The wrath of this woman scorned masks herself as an innocent little girl.” “She is not welcomed past this point, and with your permission; we need to extract her ghost, at once.” “Yes, there are plenty of curses in your ancestors’ cards, but this spell is from here and now and must be destroyed.” “Go back to hell from wince she came”, a boisterous Marie, without her mouth ever moving.
Marie started humming and chanting a mystical tune, and the walls started beating and shaking like a pulsating heartbeat of drums. A crystal skull she lovingly caressed, stroking and lulling a prayer to materialize, at once. The nocturnal birds of prey became fluttery, and a shrill squawk escaped the crow; felt quite alarming and scary.
Candles flickered and smoke wafted into my eyes, chairs shook, and the table levitated. Marie never skipped a beat, and her eyes remained lowered as she continued the trance, void of all emotions, or quick glance. Noise entered and Marie grew louder, her arms extending upwards, gave her increasing powers.
I grabbed for Pumpkin, maybe for security, because I could feel energies tugging and pulling at me, violently. I felt for a fraction of time, a death grip, like a vice. Taking, clawing, and ripping away the very light and breath from my body, soul, and might.
Before I could cry out for help to Marie; her head snapped up and her gaze penetrating. She was speaking in another language, unknown to me, and entirely transfixed on my mortal enemy.
Marie’s eyes flashed fire, or maybe that was the reflection of this entities demise. My heart racing, I did what I always do. I called upon Mother Mary and recited the Lord’s prayer, true. Recite The Rosary as often as needed, it specifically tells the devil and his minions, you are Mother Mary’s!
That was all, Marie needed; she jumped from her seat, stealthy like a panther, and leaped. Wrestled and wrangled this she-devil turned gator. Yanked as hard as she could and detached this nightmare of evil. I felt a rush of blood and oxygen coursing through my veins and the Holy Ghost with the most, appeared right next to Marie.
Crumpled to the concrete floor were autumn leaves; dried, dead, and old. After this exorcism of sorts, I could smell roses and I could feel my heart soar. I gave Marie the biggest hug, I could! I felt stronger than I had in years, decades, maybe more! “Don’t thank me just yet,” again she heard me without words expressed.
“You have another force bonded to you since birth.” “Your sister from the tree of life, a shrew, and your toxic ties twisted and knotted from eons ago.” “She was originally, Lilith in the garden of Eden; only God can remedy her treason of sordid reasons”.
Marie placed a bejewelled locket around my neck. When it opens, light ascends, a rose quartz gold flashlight of hope. “You are protected from this point on.” “No shadows, demons, or even Lilith can enter your queendom.”
Pumpkin and I followed Marie, down a narrow hallway, beckoning. The walls made of amethyst and emeralds, shining and glowing. We made our way to a large and in charge set of double doors, an incantation needed to open.
Marie stopped deliberately and took both my hands into hers. “The Ballroom awaits, this night is yours!” “Wait”, I exclaimed! “This ballroom sounds fancy, and I have nothing to wear, no costume, no suitable attire, or appropriate slippers to traipse around in”. “After one walk through these doors made of platinum and truth, you’ll be dressed as you truly are, no gimmicks or costumes needed, I promise you.”
For whatever reason, I didn’t want to leave; my “fairy Godmother”, who saved me. “I will always be with you, wherever you go; just think of me, and I will know,” Marie finally spoke. Maya, who I didn’t notice joining us before; left Marie’s shoulder and swiftly flew right through the doors. Transparent on one side only; I could see through to the ballroom, while no one could see me, staring.
Looked like a packed house and trumpets blew the second I put my right foot through. Standing at the top of the stairs, I had a view from beyond the grave; hard to retell. I was so captivated. A royal garden of whose who’s, while trapeze artists flew through hula hoops from the open ceiling, open view. Cascading above our “earthly” crowned heads, a canopy of stars and their unique constellations.
A spotlight from seemingly nowhere appeared. Lit me up from the top of my head, down to my toes. I could actually feel the warmth, emanating from a heavenly source. My name was called, and every spirit alive and dead, stopped their commotion and turned about face in my direction. I didn’t want to trip or fall, so I stood there in this ballroom, stiff as a board.
A large man came forth and he looked like he was a jigsaw puzzle, barely there or barely glued back together. For this after party of familial parts, just getting started and will likely last longer than this night.
Apparently, with much haste, while lowering my great-great grandfather x 24 into his small forever place; the body exploded and thusly maiming the original royal corpse into pieces of sheer gore and horror for the church and his son to witness. His burial chamber disrupted and vandalized, on numerous occasions. Only a thigh bone remains intact along with a book made at Christmas, called “The Doomsday Book”.
King William the Conqueror lent out his extended hand. Turns out, I’m related to a clandestine clan. There’s Henry the VIII and Ann Boleyn; relatives of mine, I cannot pretend. Kings, Queens, and Vikings; dancing, mingling, chatting, engaging, laughing, and fraternizing about. Oh, my goodness, that’s Princess Diana! I’m going to pass out!
Thrones for miles all lined and surrounding an endless dance floor made of liquid black marble. I’ve never seen anything more lavish! There were waltzes and musicians that floated and glided, instead of walking with feet and making earthly strides.
Dresses, jewels, and crowns out of this world, glistening. There are plenty of historical figures to chat with in the afterlife, believe me. I have many questions, as to their logic and reasoning, but that’s for another time, and another season.
Flabbergasted, I’m even related to a few (four) US Presidents (Washington and Jefferson, both in attendance). Wish, I had studied more of world history; but it’s always better to put a face to a name, for memories’ sake. Consider the source, and better to hear directly from the horse’s mouth, they say. Something along those lines, we should reference and consider with haste. Try not to waste!
So many people and places to see; I don’t want to be rude and leave early. Engaged for what felt like an eternity, I greeted and said hello to as many as possible. All far more regal, royal, educated, distinguished, and highly accomplished than I; seemed honored and grateful to meet with me, like never before.
I met ladies of the court and palaces, and princesses along with their prince’s, and dashing gentlemen from all the ages. All far more civilized and advanced than history retells, recaptures, and restates. Witnessed epic and eerie tennis matches, ghost horses with headless rugby riders attached, and sword fights with legendary knights (Valhalla).
The swords, themselves, have otherworldly origins to tell; blazed from their own untold glory of fury. Spellbinding: the swords fought themselves, without the knight holding a blade, or his family crested shield.
I don’t remember being thirsty or hungry, but food and drinks were being ushered, overserved, a plenty. Standing next to a ginormous grandfather clock, stood none other than Cinderella herself (a way distant cousin).
Dumfounded, I actually asked for the time. She giggled and pointed to the sound, that rang like a gong from the hollow moon above. “It’s an hour till midnight”, she daintily bade adieu.
Riding in gold chariot races across the night’s sky, we flew past coliseums where ghostly lions and tigers pawed at us. I even entertained an elephant ride from the mammoth Edison electrocuted. We concluded, Tesla was more humane and better suited.
Lavender, peonies, gardenia, lilac, jasmine, juniper, and every kind of Lily ever planted; enveloped an aroma so sweet, inviting, and intoxicating. I can see where “Chanel” got her inspiration from. The flowers bloomed on high and standing by for the occasional enraptured and charmed passerby.
Felt like 3 am and I had walked and danced my way from New Orleans to New Mexico. Pumpkin and I decided to sneak away from the glorious grandiose festivals and magnanimous parades. Belting from the stratosphere, “When the Saints Go Marching In”, and they were marching straight with multi-colored sequins. Went through a carnival of apparitions that oddly appeared like the thanksgiving parade and Mardi Gras, had fused together into one humongous display.
Mirrors and elongated oil painting portraits; all now walkways for the traveling spectral guests. Where they’re going or coming from, I really couldn’t guess. I have to admit an otherworldly entrance from the unknown abyss.
Fireballs shot across what appeared as an open sky. Comets soared through, dropping off, other visitors for the grand festival. All walks of life were here, colorful, outlandish attire, and so much “flare”. Looks like the dead, know how to live, by far!
Noticed a faraway bench, just perfect for a quick rest break. Next to the bench a beautiful gold tree, looking like a Japanese maple or a life size bonsai. A valley of mums adorned a small lighted pebbled path. Even at night, they bloomed, effervescent purple, gold, and red. I promise there must have been a million or more.
Sitting on this well needed bench, I watched the fireflies coming and going, nearby, me. “Those aren’t fireflies, you see, Sugar,” coming from a very familiar voice. “They’re the souls coming and going in and out of our “plain of existence”, in and out of our world.” Next to Pumpkin, sat my dad. He said, “took you long enough to get here; I left a thousand breadcrumbs”.
Overjoyed as I could be, “Dad you’re here, I can’t believe it!” “I’ve missed you so much, it’s not even funny!” He guffawed and gave me a big bear hug. “I’ve told you before, as long as you remember me; I’m not going anywhere.”
“You tried to tell me and teach me about our family history.” “I was too busy, working and studying to truly understand.” “It wasn’t till long after you have passed, that my memory is finally flooding back.” “Everyone, I hold so dear, has passed away and no longer here.” Tears I couldn’t stop, poured down my face, and over my broken heart.
I don’t know how he did it, but he pulled from his corner jacket a hanky and retrieved it. His monogram embroidered, instead of initials, stated, “Best Dad Ever,” he handed over. “I don’t expect you, too not miss us; but to live your life as best as possible.”
“That’s what Halloween is all about,” he implored! “Bringing you closer to the family you have; all sides, living, dead, and apart.” We watched the “fireflies” aglow and zoom to and frow; here and there and in the “afterworld”, everywhere.
As we sat together with Pumpkin on the bench, we reminisced, cried, and laughed about everything. I still had my tie-dyed sweat suit on and “sketchers” (track shoes), for that midnight run. Turns out my truth is not a flamboyant dress, crowns, glass slippers, or a frilly frock.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Dad mentioned with a smile from the heart. “You are a star in my eyes, worth more than all the speckled pups in the world.” He used to say that to me, when I was down or gloom. “Speaking of friends, who did you bring with you,” pointing towards Pumpkin.
“Pumpkin, came along for the ride.” “His name is Jack said stingy because of his track record.” “Jack, was kicked out of Heaven because he was a lush and a miser, and even bested the devil from entrapping his soul ever after.” “Now, he has nowhere to go, and so I brought him along, in search of a home.”
Dad said, “He can stay with me, here.” “Same time, same place, next year?” I couldn’t have agreed more, and I handed, Pumpkin, over to my dad to hold. As I placed Pumpkin in dad’s hands, I realized it was my dad’s tombstone before me, on that sacred land. I knelt once more on the Earth, that covered my dad for all eternity. I whispered, “I love you, forevermore, Dad; Happy Halloween.”
This concludes Silver Bullet a La Mode; a Halloween tale. *** This is a disclaimer for anyone who needs one. *** This is a work of fiction and for enjoyment & entertainment purposes only. *** Thank you for reading and hopefully, you’ll join me again, for more haunting stories, adventures, and life lessons. ***