The invasion began when I turned the calendar to ‘October.’ Orange lights appeared along the eaves of the house across the road, followed by a gigantic glow-in-the-dark purple spider. Down the street, zombies began clawing their way from the depths of a front lawn. Another home has become the nightly haunting of a huge, ephemeral floating phantom lady, her robes flapping in the breeze as she collects falling red leaves in her tangled hair. The entire neighborhood is overrun with skeletons, dried cornstalk sheaves, and glowing orange jack-o’-lanterns.
Then there are the witches. In the cul-de-sac, three shadowy sisters stir a bubbling brew in an ebony caldron. Next door to the zombies, there was an accident. A novice crash-landed into the doorway, her pointy shoes, green and black stockings, and broken broom create a gapers block. An old crone terrorizes the corner, harassing the white ghost girl.
Their stories run amok, and I…
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