A Year of Stories (Collection Three)

The Magic Hour

The trip is shorter than I expected, and I arrive at a station clad in gray.

I'm met by a man in an off-teal top hat, and a cat standing on its hind legs.

They say I'm just in time for the "Magic Hour," the perfect time for them to give a tour. The cat, elegant as any feline, leads me from the station to the door.

I learn that the man in the off-teal top hat, goes by the name of Jack the Mad, "But a name is just a name where we are going, and believe me Jack is anything but bad."

She leads me into a field of golden flowers, with a Moon hanging twice as large as a Moon should be. She calls this place the Pretty Field of Poppies, and tells me, "Here you see what you must see."

For a moment I stood there and I saw nothing, and then my vision filled with vision's bright and pure, I saw an azure globe spinning below me, and the man I used to be and was no more.

When I came back to myself we were in a graveyard, not the cat – she was gone – but Jack the Mad. He looked at me and tipped his off-teal top hat, and smiled a smile so crooked it made me glad.

"You've come to us during the Magic Hour, when there are fewer spaces in the spaces here – when the ghosts and ghasts and ghouls and even goblins – will appear, will appear, will appear!"

At that moment the graveyard burst into living, at least as living as can be a place of dead – I saw a spirit like a Angel calmly swimming – through the air next to the spirit of a Hen.

There were men with many eyes and some with fewer, and women with wings and horns and tails, there were beasts the size and shape of all my nightmares, and Pixies not much larger than a hair.

"All are invited to this place at the Magic Hour, no matter how many eyes or horns or tails, we welcome all to our home at the Magic Hour, whether man or beast or goblin, ghost or snail."

They all cheered as Jack the Mad made his invocation, then a music like a miracle most dear, rose up from the gravestones all around us, to fill the air, to fill the air, to fill the air!

So we danced, each and all, within the graveyard, beneath a Moon twice as large as a Moon should be, I held hands with men and women, beasts and monsters, and for the first time in my life felt truly free.

Jack the Mad and the cat both danced together, danced apart, and danced with the Angel in the air. Each and all, every one, was gently laughing – like small children – without a care, without a care!

I thought it would go on like this forever, but forevers are just never meant to be – a clock chimed from far away but ever nearer, and just like that our Magic Hour ceased to be.

Before my eyes, the ghosts and ghasts and ghouls and goblins, returned to the spaces that were theirs – Jack the Mad tipped his hat to all and sundry, so did the cat, even though her head was bare.

"Did you enjoy yourself during the Magic Hour?" she asked as we walked back to the grey.

I did enjoy myself during that Magic Hour, and every hour since the night I choose to stay.