Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

Three witches, a headless horseman, and a ghost went into a bar. “I’ll have a scotch,” said the horseman. “Make it a double,” said a witch. The other two intoned “Ah, toil and trouble.” The ghost said spirits weren’t quite his thing. Come closing time three author’s shades went home.

D’you smell the wet earth loamy, Taste the leaf-fall in the air? D’you hear the owl-call, nightfall’s host While squirrel’s strident chatter shares Its mystery? Do you see the dark? Your fingers splay in hopes to touch the day? D’you sense him now? You really shouldn’t have come here anyway.

The orange pumpkin seems to glow, hanging with bright plastic handles from little boy’s hand. He feeds it candy— begs at all the houses—“Trick or treat”—hoping for more. Brighter and brighter shines the light in orange pumpkin’s eyes, till sudden roar. Pumpkin gobbles child. Child begs no more.

“Trick’r treat,” shouted Mom. The spaceman hid behind the table. “Come on sweetheart. Trick’r treat.” Sad eyes gazed up through helmet’s bowl. “Time to go.” He stared with corners of mouth turned down. “Trick’r treat.” The trick is to stay very still. The treat is when monsters don’t eat you.

“Trick’r treat!” He heard the children’s voices down the lane. “Trick’r treat!” He struggled out of bed. “Trick’r treat!” The gravestone’s weight pushed him to earth again. “Trick’r treat!” He crawled around the other way instead. “Trick’r treat!” He hurried home. “Trick’r treat!” Contentedly he gave his dog a bone.

Janet checked the time. “They’ll be here soon.” Jared checked the candy-bag. Jessie checked their costumes were all on straight. “D’you think they’ll notice we’re invisible?” asked Joe, adjusting bone-white gloves to cover his wrists-bones. “No way,” said Jason, tugging a black balaclava over his skull. “They just want candy.”

“Trick or treat!” Three children waited at the door, a witch with black pointed hat, a wizard, an angel, and a scorpion. “Trick or treat!” The woman who answered wore black, dusty veils over her face, blood dripping from her teeth. The children screamed and ran. The scorpion ate her.

It happened in a moment. Bright sky turned dark. Shadows descended over the scene leaving red on the ground. “Vampire” shrieked the dream. It happened in a moment. Sun turned to rain—day to night. Red leaves fell down but when the light returned, heavenly gold still clung to trees.

Sometimes it sounds like someone’s trying to get in. No problem. Just the wind. Sometimes they scratch at windows, doors. It sounds perhaps as if they’re all inside. Then footsteps trudge across the floor. Sometimes it sounds like nightmares come to life. On Halloween, the witch tells you, they do.

Amanda raked the leaves to form neat piles. Amanda’s puppy jumped and scattered them. Amanda raked the leaves again then took the puppy safely back inside. Outside, the wind blew wild and free. Leaves scattered far and wide. And hidden spiders grew to monster size. No problem. Puppy ate them.

Leaves fall soft as orange snow turned brown on weary ground. The sun sinks low in evening sky. Night falls and owl-calls drown the squirrels’ sound till all is still. As leaves and shadows fall on grave-yard stones, then hands reach up and climb. It’s Halloween, the zombies’ hallowed time.

The fridge’s stomach rumbled. The heating woke in the bowels of the house, blowing hot like fire. Watching clocks blinked fierce red eyes, bright numbers counting the hours… Not a creature stirred, not even a mouse, said the rhyme. Not even a house? Number 13 Primrose place ate its occupants.

Ah, the gentle sound of leaf-blowers in the fall; mulching machines chew limbs from trees while lonely lawnmowers, last of their tribe, scythe down the summer’s grass. Sunshine brings out the busy in us. But skies grow dark, night-eyes spark bright, and rustling creatures whisper autumn’s terrors as they pass.

The moment before it rained The ground was dry. The sky threatened with gray but I Was kneeling in my memories Pulling weeds. The future drenched me. The moment before witches Flew the sky My Halloween was memories too Of twigs and paper hats But dire Adulthood wrenched me back.

A squirrel was hunting acorns in the grass. Sunshine flamed like firelight from his tale. He twitched and passed—warm squirrel. Beautiful—from lawn to deck where shadowed hand reached out to wreck his day. Warm squirrel. Mmm. Delicious. Discarded furry brush, some bones and an acorn all that remained.

Technology; they used to say it was going to put us out of work. Sure, the caseloads got smaller when technological temptation got so easy, but there’s always those clever-clogs want to break the system. Everyone’s so careful now, data protection, switch off the gps. Demons can find you anywhere.

There’s a reason they put mirrors on the walls behind bars. All those drinks and bottles reflecting their jeweled colors; all those smiling faces lifting glasses like treasure to their lips. And me. As long as there’s a crowd no-one notices they can’t see my reflection, till it’s too late.

“Mom. How did you meet Dad? He’s such a dork.” “Ah, love. You really don’t know him so well.” “But seriously Mom.” “Okay. I’ll tell... ...We were playing in the churchyard in the woods; you know, that old abandoned place where the roof’s caved in. And a demon came from…”

The view from the window was gray. Mist made ghostly shapes over trees, over paths. Mist trailed its thin damp fingers on the glass. Mist stared at her. Misty gazed deeply into mist’s gray eyes; was suddenly surprised when the sun came out. Then she opened her mouth, breathing mist.

He rapped his knuckle on the windowpane, peering through the pale cloud of incense that surrounded her table. Watchers gazed entranced. She’d be promising forbidden glimpses of the future he guessed, revealed in the cards, while she, all unknowing, ignored his dark-cloaked presence and white-bladed scythe waiting by her door.

“That’s a novel idea.” “What?” “Going back to the beginning of time.” He showed her the instructions. “See, so you can tell if women were really made out of man’s ribs.” “Sounds messy to me.” “Cream and sugar my dear?” Eve poured. Adam stirred. The dog chewed on the controls.

From milkman’s granddaughter to cowed by the farm: Don’t miss this terrifying tale of death by a thousand udders. You’ll never look a bovine in the eye again without flinching... Meanwhile, from innocent calf to bovine Halloween. You’ll never look humans in the eye again without flailing those powerful horns.

I dream in color Green when I’ve been weeding, Brown earth feeding grayish scents To nostrils. If I cough Perhaps I’ll wake. I dream in sound Around me ivy rustling; Sense how the ground is shared With spiders. If I scream Perhaps I’ll wake. I dream in nightmares Shaded gray.

Green ivy crawls on painted walls while gray clouds hide the sun. Sky’s yellow eye grows dim but leaves shine bright, about to fall. Then red and orange and gold will mold to brown spread on the ground. Green weeds poke through the mass, remind, spring always finds a way.

D’you suppose the flowers don’t grow because they know I’ve not got green fingers? D’you suppose they’re upset ‘cause I’m pulling down the ivy from the walls? D’you suppose they don’t like me because I don’t like spiders? And is that a spider, crawling in my hair? I hate yard-work.

Night fell fast and street-lamps faded yellow into mist. Jane’s knuckles white, she steered the car away. Red lights like alien eyes appeared while tooth-lined mouth, snake-tongued opened beneath. Slamming the car into reverse, Jane backed into a lamp-post; screamed. Her headlamps now like beacons shine their warnings into sky.

The guy dressed as a tomato advertised the salad bar, but Danny thought the shark looked much more fun. Dad stopped the car and leaned out the window to order, “Two shark steaks.” He learned too late, this bar sold human steaks to alien shark-shaped clientele. The sharks ate them.

“You want him to run away don’t you?” said Meg as her dog barked wildly over the carcass of a dead squirrel. Pale autumn leaves fell round them, bright-plumed birds, dead spiders and a fly. Dog wagged his tail while Meg dragged him inside, while alien weapons burned the sky.

Petey loved the lions at the zoo. “Wish I could set you free,” he said. “You can,” the lion replied. “Hey, he can speak!” Petey grabbed his mother’s hand, then trembled as his voice grew hoarse. “Who can speak dear?” “No-one,” said the lion in Petey’s skin, while Petey roared.

Late afternoon sun reflected on a hole in the ground like liquid gold. “There must be a stream,” said Dianna running forward to see. Dave tried to hold her back. Late afternoon sun tangled her legs like stockings trapped and trailed from the fabric of time. Then she was gone.

An orange moon for fall; brown leaves on the ground; golden sunsets crowning russet cloud-feathers of sky… Squirrels, red and gray, hunt through the day; cats chase and play; then fierce coyotes conquer fearsome night. A squirrel-tail, cats-paw on dull green grass. Ghosts howl to orange moon and rainbows pass.