Amongst the ebony night the silver foiled clouds slid gracefully over the dim moonlight, casting shadows where none had existed before. The candle flame beckoned enticingly from the orange bulb, it’s lights flickering menacingly though its eyes. The maniacal grin sneering at me from under it’s brow. I slowly tipped across the pavement, the rustling of my clothing barely audible as I encroached upon the porch. Looking around, I nervously licked my lips and reached within a beats grasp of the door handle. Filled with nervousness, I stilled myself and counted to three…trying to steady my nerves. It was unknown to me which goblins graced the other side of that paneling. Timidly I knocked on the door, awaiting my fate. Suddenly, the door creaked open, the light emanating from the warmth within. I looked up into the grandmotherly type face, lined with age and laughter, and I paused… “Trick or Treat!”

As summers glory has set and the russets and siennas have fallen from the colorfol canvas that had blanketed the Anchorage hillside the last month I am left with enriching childhood memories of fall. A time of year that has always quickened my heart beat and permeated joy through my veins. Seasons of harvest and ghouls and homecoming parades.

This season of spirit still drives me, and I will openly admit that Halloween is still my favorite holiday of all. The glow of the jack-o-lantern grinning mischievously through the ebony nights; the dance of the candy corn rattling amongst one’s pail of loot, and the ever faithful cries of “trick or treat” cracking the air. I often wonder why I love this season so. Whether spurned from my interest in the supernatural and all things that go “bump” in the night or the eternal ability to exude one’s inner child and get away with it. I’d say that near ninety percent of my happiest lifetime memories involve this holiday in one way or another.

I can remember the life-sized scarecrow I built at seven. I had spent weeks literally raking up the leaves that had fallen overnight in the yard. I would protect my piles precariously, knowing that they would end up as the life-blood of that scarecrow. As the days and weeks passed, I could hardly contain myself the day Halloween came. Laughing an inane howl of menace, I amply secured his arms and feet to the cord that would drop him in front of the person as they unknowingly came to press that bell. Trick indeed, and one still sets a smirk across my face as I catch glimpses of a scarecrow. Knowing that I am the master scarecrow builder, and would happily throw myself into that task again.

As the years passed, so to did my time in the haunted houses. Both as participant and guest. The costumes were few and far between; my favorites always seemed to be the ones that would scare people the most. Hiding in those darkened hallways, waiting and watching for my next victim to appear.

It was always a rare treat for me to meet someone that enjoyed this time of year as much as I did. Those that did, I found solace in and they quickly became my partner in crime. Through the tales of the costume balls, the graveyard expeditions and even the full moon “ghost hunting”.

The season is upon us and one that brings the inner spirit out of me. So next time you round that corner filling a weary chill in your bones, stop and wonder. I just may be lurking around that corner waiting for you…

“What fearful shapes and shadows beset his path, amidst the dim and ghastly glare of a snowy night! With what wistful look did he eye every trembling ray of light streaming across the waste fields from some distant window! How often was he appalled by some shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted spectre, beset his very path! How often did he shrink with curdling awe at the sound of his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his feet; and dread to look over his shoulder, lest he should behold some uncouth being tramping close behind him! and how often was he thrown into complete dismay by some rushing blast, howling among the trees, in the idea that it was the Galloping Hessian on one of his nightly scourings!”

Like that Galloping Hessian, waiting for my next victim…