The warm summer rays pierce the curtains and gently kiss your face and brighten your closed, sleeping eyes, waking you gently. The morning sun is gleaming brightly through your window, accompanied by the ode to life the birds effortlessly chirp, day in and day out. ‘Is it tee shirt or tank top weather today?’ you ask yourself.
You wake again, observing your once brilliantly lit room, now encompassed by a cooler, more ominous tone. The light has faded to a dull gray and the pleasant, sun-soaked morning caresses have disappeared. The feathery melodies swiftly waning, and alas, the season’s swan song has begun.
Leaves are falling, and the clouds hover and display all their mighty tones and shifting shapes. The plethora of corn mazes, haunted houses, hayrides, and walks, and jack-o-lanterns adorning the stoops of the spirited, paired with the promises of candy from a knock or a rung doorbell from a stranger’s door; All Hallows’ Eve hath arrived again.
“Oh look. Another glorious morning. Makes me sick!” Can’t say I don’t disagree with that line delivered from Winifred Sanderson from Hocus Pocus. Something about this time of year makes me yearn for the gloomy, rainy days spent inside watching horror movies — even better doing so alone, although my dog tends to look at me like I’m absolutely insane if I get tricked by a jump scare, forcing me to make an involuntary and inhuman noise.
He’s the protector, the one who distinctively shrouds my misunderstanding with reason. His coat blacker than night, he’s the one I turn to, the one who whispers secrets, beyond comforting and more than soul-piercing.
My shadow. Their spook. Our way.
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