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Phantom File Cloak of Truth 2
Edited by: Icky the eyeball scratcher
 

Join me if you will on a short time-ride back

To the 1950s, a time when Hallowe’en saw

Minnie Mouse, Micky Mouse, Goofy and a

Host of other cartoon charters unexpectedly

Roaming the streets after dark. Yes, we may

Laugh today at such a notion, but back then

A life-size Micky Mouse knocking on your

Door on a crisp moonlit night might be just

As effective as Bela Lugosi popping round

For a cup of blood.
 

Are we missing something, have we lost

The plot, confining ourselves to the walking

Dead, eyeballs on hat pins, and the like?

Stop for a moment and imagine what the

Sight of Donald Duck emerging from the

Shadows his blood sucking beak glinting

In the moonlight, top-drawer stuff I'd say

In terms o
f scaring even the most

Seasoned 
Hallowe’ener.

 

Snow White too, accompanied by her gang of

Dwarfs might likewise be another unexpected

Route to the Hallowe’en collywobbles, when

A pretty girl knocks on a door and a band of

Blood-curdling trick or treat dwarfs await its

Opening.
 

There’s a ghostly haze ‘bout the streets tonight,

Best lock thy doors and pray for light.’
 

Yes Hallowe’en has changed, but not the dark,

For it is still with us and will always be with us,

Capturing the essence of the absence of light

And that which might lurk therein beyond our

Knowledge.
 

From every direction dark forces began to

Assemble, misty jars bubbling with entrails-

Elixir hovered between headstones tipping

Generously when called upon to administer

Refreshment. Goblets were raised and

Frighteners exchanged in an atmosphere of

Ghoulish giddiness and phantom banter, a

Bell in the gravedigger’s hut spoke in bongs.
 

Muffled melodies rose from the resting place of

The Red Hot Pocus whilst decaying fingers and

Thumbs tapped and snapped to The Dark Harp

Fantasy Band and finally, the Mistress of Misery,

Aleata Raww, briefly interrupted proceedings to

Curse everyone for coming. ‘Verily, verily, I say

Unto all ye buried here about this wretched place

At this unsafe hour, come forward at once from

Thy long-drop and show thyself so that by order

Of the dreadful odours vested in me I may know

Thy stench. ‘Witches, phantoms, chillies and

Freaks, charge thy goblets for the toast is,

Hallowe’en.’
 

© Joseph G Dawson