Trick, Treat, Perish, Pay
A sharp rat-a-tat-tat on the unlocked door off the porch startles me from my thoughts of him. I lean over to set my gently steaming mug of tea on the end table and get up to see who has come to visit.
Three small beings - ghost, hobo, wizard - mill hopefully about in front of the door. They are unaccompanied by an elder - although surely there must be someone just out of sight - at the end of the lane perhaps.
I hand each a bundle and drop some coins in their slotted tins. They twitter happily amongst themselves, thank me, and patter back across the porch.
I stand a moment in the open door as they fade into the darkness, watching with a faint smile and wondering if they realize...
They don't know, really, what night this is or what, with their small decorated bodies, they represent.
All souls. Not just friendly souls, but all souls. They are souls, come back, crying at the door - hungry, mourning their lost lives. You give them food, money - anything to substitute for your love and blood - hoping that for another year, it will be enough.
Oct 30/2003