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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478934" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Halloween Story</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It all begin as grains of sand, <br>covering a place both wide and flat<br>open to the moonlight as Luna rises.<br>When the first breeze blows, <br>from a whisper to a howl and back<br>the dead trees, like skeletons, <br>shiver from cold and fear.<br>One by one the trees uproot<br>crackling and rustling, yet silent.<br>The open space becomes bigger<br>as they retreat from old knowledge, <br>waiting for the tide to rise.<br>One younger stays behind and watches.<br>Stares at the sand, and ponders, <br>reaches out and touches it with a root.<br>The elders, black and dead, <br>the home to owls and spider webs, <br>already mourn the youth.<br>At a touch the grains flicker<br>like starlight come to life for a moment.<br>Black shadows, where spirits might hide<br>if they weren't afraid, too, creep upward.<br>The sand begins to bubble, <br>darkness shifts and flows with purpose.<br>Youth is lost on the youth, foolish youth.<br>Its root, pulled back at the darkness, <br>has turned black and gray with ash.<br>Like torpid terror the ash crawls<br>up the root and outward, up the trunk<br>to where leaf and branch shake<br>and fruit falls like tears of regret.<br>Now the sand heaves and towers<br>over the remnant of the youth.<br>Quickly dispersed by the wind, <br>dusty ash rises up into the dark clouds<br>gathering over a moon now red.<br>The ceremony is nearly met.<br>Tiny, pitch black grains of sand stand up, <br>now given meager life by this evil, <br>and run away as individual thoughts.<br>Past the trees they scatter, screaming<br>warnings and imprecations and horror.<br>The grove stands its ground, <br>given purpose and meaning by this night.<br>Where the sand once was, now a bulge grows<br>pale, even in the blood of the moon.<br>Rising higher and higher, <br>until even the clouds eschew the sky.<br>This abomination is pale like bone<br>covered by an aura of black so deep<br>that its meaning has never been needed<br>except for this moment, this single instant.<br>A terrible beast smiles at the night<br>and a tongue of rancid mold slips out<br>between teeth like tombstones.<br>When the world begins to shudder<br>at the presence of this cancerous evil, <br>the grove moves, and moans as it goes.<br>Lightning laughs from the clear sky, <br>lashing out at the wood song's meaning.<br>Calling back the black sand, to its duty, <br>repairing the wound in the veil.<br>Frozen images cover the wound <br>where the pale monster rose up to consume, <br>like moonlight shining through stained glass.<br>In the images, spirits swirl and play, <br>calling back to their master, no longer afraid.<br>Their night is over.<br>All in the space of the moon crossing the sky<br>these events took place: the running, <br>the rising, the loathing, and the calling.<br>Now come the true screams. Painful and<br>invigorating they slip into cracks<br>where humans cannot hear them, but they shudder<br>and they flow, across the wound, into it.<br>As the beast is put to slumber once more, <br>sand grains poised as cowards among the tree roots<br>run out and jump into their place.<br>A flat field of creeping black.<br>Then the black flows inward, to the center, <br>and downwards to the depths and is gone.<br>And the trees settle once again around the clearing<br>to again await the culmination of their existence<br>next Halloween.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Poet+Dragon">Poet Dragon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478934" data-title="A Halloween Story de Poet Dragon" data-description="It all begin as grains of sand, 
covering a place both wide and flat
open to the moonlight as Luna rises.
When the first breeze blows, 
from a whisper to a howl and back
the dead trees, like skeletons, 
shiver from cold and fear.
One by one the tr..."></div>
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