The air chills. The last twilight bows before night. The black clouds drift before the Hunter’s moon.
There should be children out. Trick or treating. Parading up and down the street in their meme costumes.
But only one walks the road, dressed as the Red Death. The unmitigated gall, considering this pandemic year.
We should run him off the block. We don’t. Instead, we hold our breath, as shivers ripple across our spines. We hope he won’t stop at our door.
If only we were so lucky.
the Samhain fires burn…
I’m hosting Haibun Monday over at dVerse, where we get our scare on for Halloween. The pub is still open. Come join us!