All Soul’s Day: Giving Thanks

And the Fourth Annual Halloween 24 in 24 is complete.
24 stories, in 24 hours, all through Halloween.

It’s never easy…this task of creating such a volume on demand.
But, that’s what friends are for, yeah?
Each year, friends have come together to send me their spooky stories and poems.
And, really, that’s why I’ve kept this going.
(I’m sorry, friends, for the constant nagging and bullying!)

Kyle Willis, my writing partner in crime since the beginning who I send texts to all October with a countdown to this day…all received with swear word replies.
But I wore him down.
Four years we have been doing this together, as well as plotting Nancy Drew stories.
He’s scampered off of social media, but look out, he’ll be back.
(And I guarantee his first post will be “It’s Britney, Bitch” or something.)

Jennifer Battisti, my companion, my co-creator, my poetic collaborator.
Her poetry blows me away. Constantly.
I keep wanting to do more and more with her.
We are in a comic anthology, because of her! The fantastic, anti-racism The Good Fight.
Her collection of poems, Echo Bay, is something everyone should own.

Belen Martinez, the best collector of the spooky. Her love of horror movies goes DEEP. In fact, we even had a deal together where she got three big paintings – all characters from horror movies.
I was so happy and grateful when she accepted my invitation to submit a poem.

The Anonymous submitter – thank you for giving me poetry you wrote when you were a teenager…it’s fantastic. I promise I’ll keep your spooky secret.

 

And that is all for this year.
Next year will be the Fifth year in a row…will I survive? Will we survive? Will I finally get my act together and prepare earlier?

Four years running…the answer is probably not.
And what would this 24in24 be without a little stress?

And the biggest thank you to all of you readers. I really do this for you (and to annoy Kyle). All of you.
Happy Halloween.

 

-Strange News and Friends.

The Ballad of The Feasting Witch: Second Canto

II.

The moon is blanketed
In clouds and mist
Children dance from house to house
And she watches
And waits
Licking her teeth
Narrowing her eyes.

It’s Halloween
And food is promised to her
Flesh and bone
Marrow sucked
And tears kissed.

She hides
And waits
Her teeth chattering
Like a cat
About to strike

It’s Halloween,
Time to live deliciously
Warm the soul
With the souls of others.
Happy Halloween, morsels.

The Ballad of The Feasting Witch: First Canto

I.

Her hunger rages.
A deep blooming
In the pit of her gut.
A wildfire craving.

Corpses litter the fields
She hides in a tree
Wedged between branches
Listening for food.

Her mouth waters,
Rivers of hunger
Trickle down her chin.
It’s Halloween.

It’s Halloween
And the feast has begun
Mothers, Children
Pets, Fathers,
All prime food
All wanton delight.

Hypnotherapy – by Kyle Willis

Julie ended her night as she always had; she kissed her husband Todd ‘good night’, applied a pair of earbuds and rolled over to listen to a podcast that would eventually lull her to sleep.

The last podcast Julie had selected hit too close to home, and she had to turn it off; it was about a love triangle gone wrong, delivered by a woman named Luanna in Minnesota.

Julie loved her husband, Todd, but she also loved her boyfriend Charlie. This was not a progressive arrangement; Todd had no idea about Charlie.

Julie had decided that it was time to cut it off with Charlie and give it the old college try with Todd. Unsure how exactly to do that, though, she turned to a podcast.

Hypnotherapy – How to Get Over a Past Relationship.

Julie initiated the podcast and started to listen to the soft-voiced man from upstate New York lead her into a series of breathing exercises.

Soon after, Julie was fast asleep.

The next morning, Julie awakened to a familiar voice in her ears – Luanna in Minnesota.

She turned to kiss Todd ‘good morning’, and her stomach jumped into her throat and she threw up at what her eyes focused in on-

-Todd’s cold, lifeless body with a pair of scissors protruding from his chest.

She jumped out of bed, the earbuds falling out of her ears, her phone falling to the floor.

Julie suddenly remembered her decision to fall asleep with some hypnotherapy and grabbed the phone to revisit her podcast history.

How to Get Over a Past Relationship had concluded, and next in her cue was the podcast by Luanna in Minnesota from the night before; the one she hadn’t been able to finish.

Julie’s eyes grazed the description of that podcast and widened; more vomit flew from her mouth.

That love triangle? Concluded with the husband being stabbed thirteen times in the heart with a pair of scissors by his wife.

The Ballad of The Forest Mother: Third Canto

III.

Old woman
Dancing on graves
With creaking bones
And ashen flesh.

Taking to the skies
In malevolent stone
Kitchenware
Searching.

Sister to the undying
Mother to nature
Bringer of death.
Baba Yaga

By compulsion
Or of free will
All find their way deep
Into Baba Yaga’s forest.

The Ballad of The Forest Mother: Second Canto

II.

Forward.
Backward.
Through the gate.
White.
Red.
Black.

She sees all.
She knows all.
She devours all.

Beauty, treasure
Warmth.
She can give you all.
Or pick her teeth
With your fingernails.

Grandmother
In the darkness.
Giver of knowledge and flame
Eater of children.

The Ballad of The Forest Mother: First Canto

I.

A dirty house
Raised to the skies
On feet of chicken
Surrounded by bone
And flesh
And teeth.

Iron toothed
And saggy breast
Broom at the ready
Nose the size of the moon.

They whisper her name
Use her to scare children.
But it’s not a threat.
It’s a promise.
A warning.

The fire is out,
The forest is asleep.
She flies off
The old witch.

(Un)lucis – Anonymous Entry

when one leaves and the other is sleeping still
we come in
she will believe it is just another dream
until she clenches her fist and starts praying to wake up
until the walls of the room peel off to reveal us
and as soon as she opens her eyes
we step on the light
sometimes we’ll let her crawl a while
as her screams come out as whispers
and tears flood the inside of her mouth
tasting the white lining of our lips
her resistance fades
as if it would make anything okay
and when boredom strikes and she’s released
her heart is racing
her hands are numb
she looks for a sign of us
sighs
and avoids ever sleeping alone

The Ballad of Iron Scissors: Third Canto

III.

When she cut
Her hair tumbled down
A trickle of blood.
Iron scissors,
Soft prayers.
Snip snip.

When she cut
Her flesh recoiled
The candles burned.
Iron scissors,
Soft prayers.
Snip snip.

When she cut
The spell started
Casting itself in hair and flesh into the darkness.
Iron scissors,
Soft prayers.
Snip snip

The Ballad of Iron Scissors: Second Canto

II.

When she cut
The baby didn’t cry.
It screamed and swore.
Iron scissors,
Burning flesh.
Snip snip.

When she cut
She didn’t cry.
The baby burned and turned black.
Iron scissors,
Burning flesh.
Snip snip.

When she cut
The Fae laughed
And danced around the crib.
Iron scissors
Burning flesh
Snip snip.