It's back again, one of my favorite months of the year....and all the wonderful things that come with it...the smell of woodsmoke hangs upon the air, nightly...such a heady, pungent perfume. The leaves turn to fire in the late afternoon light, the green man, saying goodbye with a flourish of golden sparks that descend to the ground...leaving behind the faint memory of a summer passed; the scent of leaf mold, and decay. Cold, crisp nights on the porch, watching the first stars beckoning, through a plume of breath, like smoke. The taste of hot cider and candy corn. Anything is possible. A great and old Mystery is afoot....shadows lengthen, the sun falls; earlier and earlier each afternoon, and there is an all pervasive feeling; that as All Hallow's Eve approaches, there are doors which are straining to open....you can almost hear the torturously slow squeal of rusty ancient hinges in the lonely hour of midnight. A soft beckoning from beneath the bed, a moaning chorus, whispering from a graveyard....a flashing glimpse of Something from the corner of your eye....your heart quickens its pace....and you carve a jack o lantern, carefully placing a candle deep within its fleshy gullet....in hopes that the warm light will keep these unquiet specters away....and you prepare a costume, ensuring that the mask fits you perfectly, so that when the bell tolls, your face is completely hidden from sight...from those who mean to do you harm...the chuckling madness and the grinning souls who wait for this hour....an hour in which to seek you out....for they long to climb into your skin...would do anything to live again....

do your best to crawl into bed well before the curtain shifts; with the mask you've chosen clinging to your face...squeeze your eyes tightly shut...and try to ignore the soft scratching sounds at your window. Be sure to leave the jack o lantern lit, to guard you while you dream your haunted dreams. Left alone on the porch, he smiles his flickering smile....all the while casting deep, uneasy shadows....until the wraiths; cavorting just outside the threshold of your nightmares, become tired of their feeble quest....and are lulled back to oblivion by the heavy, pallid light of the November dawn...and you wake, to find yourself safe....your sanity intact...still clutching your mask in sweaty hands. But don't be a bit surprised if you happen to find that a broken, jangled edge has adhered itself to your laugh....and if in the mirror, you happen to find mad, feral eyes peering back at you...yes, do not be surprised at all....for you know, deep in your heart...that you have not escaped unscathed...that the dead have touched you in your sleep...have had a taste....and they may very well come back to take you as their prize...next Halloween.










The Queen


The Princesses


The Grand Duke


The Count


The Countesses


The Feudal Lords


The Baronesses/ The Queen's Sisters


The First Lady in Waiting


Ladies in Waiting


The Royal Guard


The Accountant


The Fine Arts Guild


Honoured Citizens


The Courtiers