Halloween Dreams

It's that time again. Fall is upon us.

Fall: When night time descends like a sackcloth blanket as winds rip through the trees, causing bare limbs to crackle like the sound of bones.

Fall: When fragrant wood burnt on the hearth reminds us of the sacrificial rites of yore.

Fall: When ancient Druidic sacrifices appeased the Old Gods.

Our bloodletting used to feed their hunger. That is before the Age of Science eradicated the superstitious practices of our ancestors. Superstitions may come and go, but the sources of their creation do not.

The Old Gods never died. They just lay dormant within the earth, patiently biding their time. Waiting to be reborn in the new age. Waiting for the day when we had lost our connection to the Earth. Ascending when our guard was down- when we had forgotten how to sow our harvests, make our own clothes, and neglected to provide their tokens of appeasement.

Soon they will reclaim their birth rites. Soon they will feed. We should have known better. Man's arrogance always has been trumped by the chaotic power of nature. The memory of man, when juxtaposed with that of Death, always comes up short.