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Oh, All Hallows Eve, Samhain, Halloween bright, Night of Monsters Haunt and Ghosts Delight, Night of Harvest Gathered and Life’s End. Night of creatures free and children guarded, tonight is the night.
Tonight, is the night that you be honored with Death anew, a new soul cradled in the mists of Erebos as the shadows celebrate the loss of life on this night of Life and Death, of Veil Thin and Light Strong.
Tonight, candles light and guard a path, but danger lurks just to the right. Yet even now the monsters in the shadows, nor the ghosts in the eaves, nor even the creatures peeking beyond the leaves are the threat you fear. No, tonight the monster of the night stands in the light.
Tonight, a story is woven. Tonight, a story is determined. Tonight, a thread is snipped.
Tonight, a new light blooms.
Tonight, a light is snuffed out.
Hear me now, monsters deep and dark and spirits bright and light alike. Hear me and this story, as the muses spin the tale with my voice wielding it. Hear this story of child bright and monster light and terror that haunts the night.
Creeping through the city streets is but a boy, a boy of small stature, dark hair, and bright eyes. Prowling through the city streets is but a man, a man of great stature, pale hair, and cruel eyes.
Only one shall survive the night.
And on this night of deep dark light this boy fled through the streets. His skin was tanned, yet stained red. His eyes were bright, with fever. His only hope lay in a door he did not yet see.
For the streets should never be dark, not on this night, yet on this street, on this night, in this moment, light sparked and crackled and popped.
And with a snap, with a final crack, the light went out.
Monsters dear, you know what is lost on this night when you prowl the dark and the light has gone out. Candle bright protect the night so that the child might walk the streets without fright. Yet now the child stands, in dark night alone, with monster at his back, and knows that dark night means there is no fright.
There is no monster in the dark scarier than the one in the light.
Spirits flickered and danced and crooned to this small soul, luring him towards their door as he skittered down the road. The stars were dim above, the city light beyond sending them scattering and skittering, hiding behind shadows and midnight to watch with shaded gazes. All that lay witness to this fight on this night was the shining bright moon.
Indeed, this child, this young one, this hopeful lost soul, followed the crooning mercy of a spirit old and padded into a house older still. His hope was rekindled, a warm light in his chest that drew to it spirits like moths alight. And indeed, this boy welcomed them, unknowing of his position, unknowing of the threat, and asked oh so sweetly if he could stay, just for a moment.
Spirits bright and monsters dark peered within the walls, peered towards this shy small child who peered more fearfully out the door, down the street, into the light, than he did the dark shadowy figures surrounding him.
Let it not be said a monster, we monsters, do not and does not have mercy, or at the very least curiosity. He was granted a space to stay, even as the spirits and monsters and terrors and critters twisted the house into a maze, giggling and bright as they watched his confusion as he was lost within. The walls could shriek and the windows did creak and streaks of blood now leak, but the boy did not falter, did not cower, and still stayed within the house of haunted delight.
Prowl forward, brave boy, and know the house in which you stand. Once upon a time a grand man lived within, but his death was cruel and vicious and now all that is left is his vengeful spirit, clinging to the house alike a daemon, clinging and waiting and seeking revenge.
Prowl forward, small boy, and know the beasts that which you face. Once upon a time a fierce woman stood in their place, but their betrayal was cruel and vicious and now all that is left is the terror within, clinging to the world with sharp claws and curled lips and raw vengeance.
Prowl forward, safe boy, and know the monster which follows you know. Never once a kind man, all he is shaped by greed and hate and selfish cruelty, leeching off of caring kind souls and bleeding them dry till all that is left is grief and pain and loss.
In this night, in this home, dark and soft and filled with fangs and teeth, the boy finds safety and shelter and whispers to the dark the truth of the monster hunting his path.
His own step-father. His own guardian. What tracks and chases and haunts his heels is that which is meant to give sanctuary to him. He whispers without knowing, his words thoughts and his thoughts words. He whispers of the fear, of the pain, of the wish to protect his mother from this.
He whispers of how tonight, this night, this dark night, was too much, too hurtful, too painful. He could not stay, and the monster would not let him flee.
And thus, the hunt began.
Thus, the monsters curled round and round and round, spirits hands cool and soothing and pressed on arms and legs and backs and heads, and claws grew sharp and fangs grew long and wrath burned strong.
Thus tonight, this night, this most holy and sacred of deathly nights. Thus, this night which is not only death, but also life, became once more both. A new life for a scared child, a new death for a cruel man.
Light gleamed in the dark, shadowy mists of Erebos curling up and round and in. Miasma filled their lungs and hands and crept creeping corruption into the air and ground and room. Upon the bed the boy slept and dreamed, safe in the house haunted deep and dark and oh so fierce.
Now monsters dear and dark and deep, know now what they seek. They prowled the night and crawled the dark paths and peeked below and above and around at the monstrous man inbound. And in the moment, in the dark, in the dark uncompromising night, the monsters claws gleamed bright bright bright.
Night over, night done, monsters within have been undone. Spirits sated, death gated, life blood has spilled on the ground.
The sun rises, red beams shining bright, and pooled blood glowed red around the man from the night.
Blood stained ground was offered abound, blood spilled for child’s life and light, blood spilled with wrath and vengeance, blood spilled for love and loss. And with the night over, and the light spilling out, the monsters deep and dark now took their leave. And the spirits bright and wrathful and full of fright let the currents of Erebos mists sweep them below.
And in his bed, the bed of a prince, the little pearl of the sea was curled tight. Safe in the night, safe in the day, and now safe by his own homes hearth.
Monsters wrath and monsters mercy resembles each other ever so much, and on this night both rose up to save a child from his fright.