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#ShortStory, #writers, Ancient Legends, Creative Writing, Festival, Halloween, Holidays, Literature, Samhain

Indeed Compiled Research Piles. Ups As This All So Hallowed. Night So ‘Tween In Our World. Legends Tell Seasonal Change Up. Days So Nightly Now Approaches. So Our Sam Hains Runs. In Deeds So Yore Herein. So Writ.
Holy Days. Holidays. All
These Hallow Days.
All Hallows Day. Those.
Thus Hallows in ‘tween.
The Halloween.
Tonight. So
I ate That. Pumpkin Soup.
Most of IT.
Here’s a Taste of what. This left. Right
and Then. A Night.
That Night
Sam Hains Did Run
in aboves Mind. Mine. Herein so writ belows.
The Run
of Sam Hains.
She had to go.
She had to run.
Now.
Quickly.
Night was coming. Rains too.
Tonight. Was THAT Night.
That Night was Here. Now. The
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. Rains misted down.
A New Moon. Though Clouds had closed that. In,
shivering, inside and out. She ran on.
Recalling these 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 so 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.
Tonight.
She moved this Way. Then that there.
Stealing a so 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
frantically raced.
Whipping, biting. Ankles, Shins
with Wind-spray, Sand, pebbled 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 again into 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.
Grabbing a Towel from the Hook.
Patting, wiping at Her Clothes and Self. Till,..
BRIIING… BRRIIINGGG.
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 taking hold. Of what She
had so prepped early.
The Wood went warm in Her Hand.
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.
Opened
The Door.
To so Hear a Howl eerily. Erupt,
a chilling soulful, yet. Now plaintive rhetorical cry.
Childish, Pleading. Persistent.
“… HALLOWEEN… TRICK OR TREAT…”
She so looked Up.
Straight at IT.
That Eye.
IT.
As many Hands made Light Work of the Sweet.
Contents
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.
The Night.
Out There still.
Baring All.
IT.
That Leading Light.
That did and so.
Light Hers and Others Ways.
Home
For the Twists. 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.
Twilight. Their Night.
ALL HALLOWS.
She Knew.
The Night of Halloween.
Took Many Steps.
Ups n Downs.
Ins + Outs.
‘inTweens. Many Steps.
She Smiled. Now.
She had run.
She was Home.
Time to Change.
Sam Hains…
the Nomen thereof:
SAMHAIN
is the Gaelic derived Term for that. This Olden Festival. A
Tradition of Celebrating
the Mid-Point oft. Of
the Autumn Equinox + Winter Solstice also. All so
usually
marked the End of the Harvesting Season. A
Change of Seasons, Lifestyle
and Times. A Times and Places
of Endings/Death. Celebrations thereof. The Celtic
Day begins and ends at Sunset. A
Peoples + Community
so following the Lunar Calendar System. There Their
Twilight Eve
Times Begins each Day. Seasonally
this onset of each. New Winter
akin to a New Year. The “… Fall…”
clean up. Done and dusted by,
on, before. During the Daytime
of the 31st.
Celebrations at the Sunset onset in deed. Spoken
of in Our World. Legends Told as a
GREAT SABBAT. Oft
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. Burnt Ups
Offerings. Other Change Ups Activities, such as;
Circular-, Wheel-, Cycles-, Poles-…
-Dancings, Story-telling, Mimes, Songs sung, Prose
posed, Play Acts/Games,
Sacrifices, Offerings. Festivities.
Ancient Ancestors…
ALL THE DEAD… were Honored, Recalled in Our
World, Legends
and Tales… re-Told. Many
left Food, Sweets, 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 much Roman Goddess
in Their Celebrations;
(…or nomened equivalent…) mayhaps named perhaps-
POMPONA… Apples were Bobbed. For too. To
Yore’s Our World Legends.
Be One.
Work through those stilling Fears.
Live Your Dreams Well As. As
Angel, Devil.
Trickster, Treatster.
Or simply so in. Be ‘Tween.
Stay Safe.
Take Care.
Holy Days. Are Here,
‘Tis… so
Halloweens.
Simply Enjoy. Yours. Thus
Till Next.