The Hallowday Season

Posted on December 18, 2022 by Charles Duckens

So comes forth the changing days tide.
What a horrible time of year, as ghosts rise anew, the cold of the north rises too. It bears with it a horrid chill, for all in sight with dread it does fill. 
As now I peer, the darkened skies tore down summers gold, for now it's afflicted, gray, and cold. 
The children mob, and swarm, and bob, they know not what comes, know not what's nearby, but the wind with change it hums. 
As I gaze through my lamina square, upon each house bears winding green hair, adorned and spinning ablaze and burning, an omen of creatures risen and spurning.
The foul rise I know too well, and from each home I know I smell, a blackened smoke, a horrid stench upon to choke.
Each forest now laid bare, uprooted stumps I can only stare. Each evergreen now ever gone, the work of mechanical hand, upon each year it doth command.
And now I see the rise of white, I know what monsters come tonight. For every year is just the same, a Halloween monsters twisted game. In each October yes I know I fight to for my own composure. 
In each bright eye I see innocence, if they know not why is nonsense. Although they stare I do not care for I must warn of what comes next. The pumpkins missing, no light inside, this year they must know to hide.
Never an autumn so cold, not even in past stories told. But I know it must be here, the ghouls laugh I almost hear. The chanting and singing, warning bells dinging, as each must flee they find a sled, within a moment each child fled. 
They laugh I know, but as the fall winds blow, I try to warn I try to scorn, but alas each they never learn.
A blazing red bauble, crafted from glitter cobble. Surely an offering I only know, hoping to entreat the monsters upon the snow.
I peer now a last time to my calendar white, I look and see "Halloween Night" it's nearly here, a day for fear, the monsters rise is near. The tension rises, each carrying prizes. Each box wrapped neatly, bowed and tagged discreetly, places under the shrine, not a whisper of yours or mine. 
At the top of this towering monolith, mine own eyes I do lift, a burning bright emblem, to catch the eye, "Pull the beast here?" I question why?!?
And then at once they turn to me, upon each face filled with glee, I scream in horror now I know, with a monsters curse their eyes do glow! I run and cry and fight, they already lost this cursed night!

But opun the thickest slip, my running feet lost track, I tip and though I fight alas I slip,

As I lay fallen and prone, I fear I am all alone, when upon the wind is caught, a newspaper, the daily lot, it smacks my snout and in a bout, I catch a word, a line, a date!.....
December eight?
As now I see the winters snow, I realize and now I know. It's Toonsmas time, and I was late.

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