Friday, September 29, 2006
All Hallows + "Blood-curdling..." - Part 1
Halloween, also known as All Hallows Eve and Samhain, is coming. Next to Christmas, Halloween was my favorite holiday as a kid. My sisters, our friends, and I would spend the weeks leading up to the big night excitedly working on the details of our costumes. The thought of the treats we knew we were going to collect was secondary to the fun of dressing up, applying dramatic makeup, and becoming someone exotic and mysterious for an evening.
Anybody can throw a sheet over their head and go trick-or-treating as a ghost. That wasn't for us. We didn't do store-bought costumes, either. We raided our mothers' closets and jewelry boxes for silk scarves, lacy petticoats, rhinestone tiaras, loads of beads and baubles, long (on us) skirts, hats, and everything else we could find to make ourselves over into princesses, brides, Gypsies, vampire queens, etc. Believe it or not, something as mundane as a net and lace slip can be affixed to a little girl's head and transformed into a bridal veil -- or a harem girl's veil. Ingenuity was the name of the game.
I threw costumed Halloween parties well into adulthood. I haven't thrown one recently, and I don't really know why. One of my favorite costumes was the year I went as Scarlett O'Hara in a frilly dress, big hat, and two extravagantly long falls pinned to my hair. There are still pictures floating around of the faux pas I made by flopping down on the sofa in my hoop skirt, which promptly flipped up over my head. Thank God I had on pantaloons.
Last year, the members of my writers' forum collaborated on a Halloween story which we ultimately titled "Blood-Curdling..." It turned out pretty darned good. So good, in fact, that I'm going to include a paragraph or two here -- serialize it -- every day 'til Halloween. Blogger, alas, doesn't allow me to include the terrific graphics we used, which kind of sucks.
Once there was a wicked witch from the North, with a hideous, soot-covered countenance frightful to gaze upon and a temperament to match. With her crooked nose and hair like a writhing mass of worms, she was an unholy sight to behold. Her name was Haggis One L'mar and, since she was a lonely witch, she made mean, evil spells to cast on anyone who showed the slightest bit of joy in their lives. All the little children of the village had been warned to stay away from her and if they ever happened upon her, to be very quiet and show no signs of happiness.
Haggis spent her nights writing trite, barely literate prose for the one twisted publisher which would have her, then performing unspeakable acts and perverted rituals with her warlock lover, Chauve Ane Dedman. At dawn, she would sleep for an hour, then rise to spend the rest of the day crouched like a plump, predatory black widow spider over her ruthlessly unorthodox publishing company's message boards. There, she berated and harangued hapless authors, barked orders to them, and took great delight in punishing them...
pablam - What ex-authors would like to do to PublishAmerica.
sotres - The immune system of a drunk.
Greed has taken presidence over the welfare of the people - Sounds pretty normal to me.
catagory - Roadkill feline.
advantures - Taking advantage of a condition;in other words, what condition your condition is in.
emotions of loosing family members - Darn them family escapees!
When Don Quiote is my hero - Must be the PublishAmerica version of Don Quixote.