At the stroke of midnight on All Hallows' Eve,
The time has come.
It is the bewitching hour,
And spirits roam.
At midnight's toll,
The heavy eyes have closed to twilight's sleep.
All is quiet at hearth and home.
The clock's hand tick.
And tock.
And tick.
The earth is still.
Is it resting,
Or merely waiting for what comes next?
Asleep or holding its breath?
The candle is lit,
And the looking glass reflects the darkening gloom.
The candle's flame flickers in the looking glass,
And shadows dance o'er the room.
Arise and go to the mirror.
Arise and go.
Gaze into the glass.
The smoky haze begins to clear.
Look closer.
Closer, still.
The sights and scenes will be revealed:
The wonders, the splendors, the horrors.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
There is always tomorrow.
The curtain parts
And you begin to see.
All that is tomorrow.
And all that is to be.
It is there for you to read -
Just like a magazine.
***
"Beanie!" Hadley said. "What on Earth are you doing?"
Beanie Fugate was an old friend of Hadley's. She had known him since grade school. An unfortunate accident at a pulp mill had injured one of his hands and scarred his forearm. His mental faculties were dulled by the injury, too.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Can Say It's You
Mystery / ThrillerA monster is running down Main Street! An old mountain hermit, dressed as Death, drops dead at a Halloween festival in Hope Rock County. Nobody knows why. But mysterious forces are at work on the Appalachian ridges. Granny witches and the Ancients...
