I paused halfway around the house to allow my eyes to adjust, the better to see the ghouls waiting for me behind a bush. Glancing overhead, I saw an almost full moon, making an appearance through edgy, fretted clouds. It may sound like a beautiful sight but it's beauty was lost on me. Didn't make me feel one tot better about the ghouls waiting for me in the darkness.
The deeper I crept into that darkness, the more I became like that little boy from Shady Grove that I once was. It was as though a grown man returning a barrel to it's storage bin had been transformed into a 10-year-old boy told by his father to go out into the night and move his bicycle from the front yard to the garage for the evening.
Exactly why my brain work this way is not fully understood. Some say it has something to do with serotonin reuptake inhibitors, but I expect it has more to do with a Creator who became bored with the usual routine of evolutionary improvement and decided to have a bit of fun for a change and, unfortunately, I was next in line.
It's on nights like these that I remember my Great-aunt Nanny McFarland teaching me to see fairies. That's the night she taught me about magic. According to her, it was magic that kept all my personal bits and all the bits making up the entire world from flying off into space. And who can say? The Egyptians believed that magic held the world together and kept everything working smoothly. Maybe Aunt Nanny was right.
One thing I do know about magic is that it gathers in the mountains in the western regions of North Carolina where it's stored in the quartz crystal that forms the foundations of the Blue Ridge. Geologists say that quartz granules wash down from the mountains and are carried by the rivers and waterways to the sea. That explains the whiteness of the Crystal Coast beaches. It follows then, that North Carolina is a magical place.
But I'm leading you away from the way in which you should go, as the expression has it. Back to the garbage can in the dark then. The cool, damp air was full of whispers, I remember thinking.
Looking in the direction of the whispers I thought I could see three stooped figures gathered around the embers of a small fire that gleamed like the madness in a weasel's eye. There was a far off rumble, as if a thunderstorm approached, and I thought I heard a voice say, "When shall we three meet again?" Could have been my imagination.
The point I'm trying to make is that now it's October and we're on our way to Halloween--that time of year when the curtain grows thin between the reality we make up in our head and the reality that's the actual basis of the world we live in. I love this time of year because it makes me feel really alive. Someone said that we never feel so alive as when we're close to death. I believe it.
One of my most memorable events occurred to me when I was completing a tour of duty to a country I once knew. It involved an accident that left me pinned underneath the vehicle that had been carrying me back to field headquarters. I was lying in a sort of hallow waterway and the vehicle was balanced on a small ridge and it was rocking back and forth, first in my direction and then away, and then toward me again.
Each time the truck rocked downward, it compressed my chest. I remember that I didn't like it very much. I also remember seeing a very large wooden door, with a brass ring large enough to fit a basketball. Somehow, I knew the door was the entrance to the Land of the Dead. A voice like the wrong end of a howitzer spoke, "WHO'S THERE?" And each time HE asked, I thought, "Never mind. I'm not opening that door."
The experience had a big impact on me. It made me intensely aware of what being alive actually feels like. It taught me never to open big doors. And it taught me that when someone speaks in all capital letters, I should never answer. And of course it taught me that life comes hard and fast and that I should be ready for anything.
But that's enough about me and my musings on magic, Halloween, the meaning of life and everything. What about you? That's the important question. Before you answer, let me offer, if you don't mind, this little piece of cautionary advice.
If you're walking the dog after dark between now and Halloween, especially if you live in Woodcroft, Parkwood, or anywhere there have been rumors of magic, do beware. If your dog whimpers at unseen things along the path, turn back home. If you see a reddish light in the wood along the trail, resist the urge to investigate.
And if you meet three stooped and hooded figures, who aren't wearing hip-hop fashion, and if they speak sweetly and compliment your dog, and especially if they offer you a scone, don't accept it. Take it from one who speaks from experience, that is not a scone!
Have a Happy Halloween!