The story of Halloween’s fright has long been lost to time’s sand. The man who came to town had a crow on his shoulder and a pumpkin in hand. His glowing eyes peering from a sheltered head. His long brown cloak smelling of sulphur and dread. It was the 31st of October, and Mortis Allator, as he came to be, had entered the town a curse to see.
The sharp clicks of hooves on cobblestone echoed in the empty streets. The windows were dark, and the town didn’t make a peep. It was as though instead of people a ghost it had become. A fitting appellation for the events that were to come.
The creature stopped abruptly, the crow did caw out. The creature his horse he did disembark to stalk his route. His gaze took in the street his eyes danced with delight. As his toothy grin reflected in the dim moonlight.
“Why must you hide from me, mortals when I can still hear you creep?” he called out to the vast empty streets. “I mean thee no harm.” He turned to the crow and held out his arm. It took off high into the sky, circling the town overhead. “Find them, Tempus, their souls I smell their dread.”
Tempus shot down a blurry shadow in the night sky clean through a chimney flue and back out quick as he might. Clutched in his talons, a blue shimmering light, which screamed very loudly in the cold autumn night. Mortis Allator lifted his hand raising the pumpkin lid from its base. The smile did widen on his face whileTempusflew over his reap still in tow, and deposited it therin one damned mortal soul.
The pumpkin its insides then began to glow, and its body it shook violently to and fro. Mortis slammed the lid down just then, and upon the pumpkin’s surface a face began to show. A chuckle then rose from its depths it did grow. “Silly mortals, I shall find you when it’s time for you to go.”
He waved his hand onward and to the skies Tempus did go, scanning the ground for the next helpless soul.
When suddenly from a house a clatter burst forth and out came a creature no face to be seen, it bore a tall pointed hat upon a canvas bag that held grain. Straw sprung forth from its thick flannel shirt and burst from the seams of its battered up pants.
Tempus let out a screech and held out its wings flying away at a pace never seen.
“Tempus! Return here to me!” Mortis did demand, his eyes slipping from white to a blood shaded red.
But return Tempus did not, and alone Mortis he did find, when several more doors crashed open in front and behind.
The pumpkin he held out and the lid he did lift while a curse filled the air from his cold, twisted lips. The pumpkin shook, and its eye brightly shone, and out forth the damned came from where they’d been drawn.
The creatures around a beat they didn’t miss, and carved pumpkins their own from behind they did lift. The spirits confused they did bound for the sky, lighting the clouds as though it were sunrise.
And there stood Mortis the glow left his eyes. A statue all that remained of his demise. The creatures their costumes they did shed, and shouted and cheered glad they fought instead fled.
And now mortal being you know the reason for dress, it’s to save your soul, not just to impress. So do carve your pumpkin with care otherwise Mortis might give you a scare.
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