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Holy Days. Holidays. Hallowed Times and Places. As One of those Special Days approaches, a special Twist. Herein. A Fictional Ode to usher in that Celebrated Day. Night, actually. A Night that brings up… and out… the Best and not-so. In Our World. Legends In and of… All of Us. A rambling running commentary on that Night. That Night Sam Hains… did run.


The Writing so of Fiction akin to an Art. An Art

i, Shiro know lil’ of. Off

and now aways from My comforts zones. I am. Here

too. To writ. Write so


downs, Fictionise whatever comes up. In Mind.

Mine. With this and that in mind

and Our World Legends Themed still therein

and thereof. There is this. This

Fictitious Legend Combo + Dedication

to those high and low


Emotions that such ‘tween Days do so bring. Out.

Fear, Excitement.

All in ‘tween. Also.


Holy Days. Holidays.

The Hallow Days.

All Hallows Day.

The Hallows in ‘tween.


The Halloween.

Tonight. So,


I ate That Pumpkin. Soup.


Most of IT.

Here’s a Taste of what. IT left. Right



and Then. A Night.


That Night.

Sam Hains Did Run.

The Ode

in Mind. Mine. Herein. Begins. Belows.




(Music Link)


The Run

of Sam Hains.


She had to go.

She had to run.




Night was coming. Rains too.


Tonight. Was THAT Night.

That Night was Here. Now.

That Night.


Closing in quick, Deep upon Her.

Tonight. Was THEIR NIGHT.


The Night That Devils Dance. Openly.

Tonight. Here.


Grabbing, tucking, pinning Skirt in one.

Smooth motion,

She Ran. She,..

Sam… Samantha Hain did. Run.


Already near full speed when the Rains misted down.

A New Moon. Though Clouds had closed that in.


Shivering, inside and out. She ran on.

Recalling those horrid Tales of This Night.

How those caught out.

Were so mis-treated.


Things so shamefully done.

Only trickled whispers were so passed down.


‘Twas then, just as She thought of.

She Felt. IT. Close.


Behind Her. Close.

Almost, not quite Soundless. IT. Was There.



Though the Night Cooling.

She could already Feel IT’s Heat as IT

so Neared.


Strong. With Power.

Everybody Knew. Everybody Said.


IT Was Their Night, Their Might.



She moved This Way. Then That.

Stealing a quick glance.

Over and around the Shoulder.

Eyes drawn, catching,


holding in Sight.

A Single Eye. IT.

Balefully, beaming. Her Way.


Wind whistled in Her Ears as She now

so frantically raced.

Whipping, biting. Ankles, Shins

with Wind-spray, Sand, Shore.


Not too far ahead. Just a lil’ more.

She ran. On.


As She slowed, Turning, following the Path. IT

almost Touched Her.

She accelerated those Few, Last Steps.


A Grab, then Turn.

A Slam and Click.


Leaning back against the Door, allowing Mind

and Body to Relax.

Letting what had run, run it’s course. Settled.


Patting and Wiping at Her Clothes and Self. Till,..





The Door Chimed. Did so Ring. Then.


Ready Now. She was NOT going to be

so caught out.

Not Tonight.

On Their Night.


She So Knew

What was to be next and done.

She Knew What She Had To Do. Now.


Reaching for, then so taking hold of what She

had prepped early.

The Wood went warm in Her Hands.

Just Right. For Such a Night.

That Night.

Their Night.


She had so just Run.


In One Hand, with the Other.

She so,

ever so, slowly.


The Door.


To so Hear a Howl erupt,

a chilling soulful, yet now plaintive rhetorical cry.


Childish, Pleading. Persistent.





She looked Up.

Straight at IT.

That Eye.




As many Hands made Light Work of the Sweet.


In The Wood-Bowl She so Handed over and down.

One Shiny, Moving Direct Lens. Up there.

Stared Back.


She wondered as She so Watched.

That Night.

Out There still.

Baring All.



That Leading Light.

That did and so.

Light Her and Others Ways.



For the Twists and Turns of a Life are many.

A Life of a Light-House Keeper’s Daughter.


On such a Night.



Late from School.

The Run Home.

On such a Night.


Their Night.



She Knew.


The Night of Halloween.


Took Many Steps.

Ups n Downs.

Ins + Outs.



Many Steps.


She Smiled. Now.

She had run.


She Was Home.

Time to Change.



Sam Hains…
the Nomen thereof:



is the Gaelic derived Term for that Olden Festival

and Tradition of Celebrating

the Mid-Point

of the Autumn Equinox and Winter Solstice. This



marked the End of the Harvesting Season, A

Change of Seasons

and Times. A Times and Places

of Death. Celebrations thereof. The Celtic

Day begins and ends at Sunset. A

Peoples and Community


following the Lunar Calendar System. The Twilight

Times Begins the Day. There.



The onset of Seasonal Winter

akin to a New Year. The “… Fall…”

clean up done and dusted by,

on, before and during the Daytime

of the 31st.


Celebrations at the Sunset onset in deed. Spoken

of in Our World. Legends Told as a


considered Pagan though this Term problematical. POV

Mind Mine.


Herein. Communal Ceremonies invariably utilise

Fire. Bon-Fires the norm. Sacred

Fire used to Cleanse and as Divine


Offerings. Other Change Ups Activities, such as;




(Music Link)



Circular-, Wheel-, Cycles-, Poles-…

-Dancings, Story-telling, Mimes, Songs sung, Prose

posed, Play Acts,


Sacrifices, Offerings. Festivities.

Ancient Ancestors…

ALL THE DEAD… were Honored, Recalled in Our

World, Legends

and Tales… re-Told. Many


left Food, Sweets and Drinks on Graves, Places

of Memoriam or Power. Fancy

Clothes, Costumes, Parades, Dressing as

Angels or Devils,

Giving and Taking. Life Shared. Communally.


For those who included such as the Roman Goddess

in Their Celebrations;

(…or equivalent…)


POMPONA… Apples were Bobbed. For. As well.



Our World Legends.

Be One.


Work through those Fears.

Live Your Dreams. As well, well as.


Angel, Devil.

Trickster, Treatster.

Or in’Tween.


Stay Safe.

Take Care.

Holy Days. Are Here.




Simply Enjoy. That.




A Change. Halloween’s Samhain of the Heart.



Please Feel Free and If So Inclined Too. To


i, Shiro that is.


With Any Thoughts, Hints, Tips and Dreams.

If A Particular Legendary Theme or Our World

Legends. Is A Desire.


To Be So Writ. Herein.



Till next…