Trick or Treat

The child's eyes flew open as he awoke,

"Get ready for breakfast, Lex.", his mother spoke.

His green eyes like hers lit up bright,

He had great plans for the special night.

Out he jumped and off went he,

Hardly able to contain his glee.

He blew mint bubbles as he giggled,

He brushed away as his body jiggled.

He combed his hair like a nice boy,

He opened his wardrobe and roared with joy.

He ran downstairs and into the kitchen,

He hugged her tight much like a kitten.

His mother laughed and petted his head,

"I guess you like it then.", she smiled and said.

"I love it, Mom.", he was happy as could be,

He got his wish, the perfect costume, you see.

The day went by in preparation for the night,

She carefully painted a few strands white.

On his lips, she gave him a touch of crimson,

She put away her lipstick and smiled at her son.

How the Count himself would be proud,

The child raised his nose and gently bowed.

The theatrics made her laugh out aloud.

A full moon adorned the night sky,

Monsters, big and small were on the sly,

Jack-o-lanterns smirked at them as they lurked,

These evil little ones were not to be irked.

They went door to door and gathered their loot,

They whispered as they chomped on candied fruit.

"Well, I'm going to meet a witch later.", said Lex.

The others laughed, "Watch out for her hex."

Lex was offended, he ran away, holding back tears.

His face was red and hot were his ears.

He reached for his pocket as his cape swayed behind,

He pulled out what had been his greatest find.

He eyed the sandalwood as he sat under the oak,

He had found it in the garden, along with a cloak.

He knew not of the letter in the other pocket

Or the silver pendant in a silver locket.

All he knew was the sweet smell of sandalwood,

He sniffed his treasure, smiling, as he stood.

Church bells rang out the warning sign,

Almost midnight, much past his curfew of nine.

Lex quickly took off his clothes and wore them inside out,

He walked backwards, he heard the revelers shout.

The church bell rang its final note,

Midnight came, Lex saw something nearby float.

It whizzed past the plains, a silhouette he saw,

As it flew past the moon, Lex gaped in awe.

Before he knew it, it headed straight for him,

Lex stood petrified, he could not move a limb.

The wind blew around him much too strongly,

He closed his eyes and moved behind the tree.

Now and then when he opened his eyes,

All he saw were greenish sparkles in the skies.

The wind swept around as he braced himself for the blow

Something gripped him tight and refused to let go.

Before he could yell for help, he heard a voice,

"Young man. Pick a punishment of your choice.",

His mother's green eyes shone fiercely,

She took him by the collar and dragged him swiftly. 

About the post:  What can Halloween be without witches?? As per Halloween superstitions, if you wish to meet a witch, wear your clothes inside out and walk backwards on Halloween's night. Do watch out what you wish for today.

The lady with the lamp

She changes into her silvery white gown,

And brushes her hair from the crown.

Her long hair were silken and dark,

The candle on her dresser begins to spark.

The candle sputters till she cups the flame,

She looks at her reflection with a hint of shame.

She rosies her cheeks and prims her lips,

She smells the vine and slowly she sips.

The weather worsens, it begins to rain,

The candle sputters and sparks again.

She hurries and fetches an oil lamp,

"It must be that wretched scamp.

I must relieve that lass for this trick."

She lowered the candle's wick

Till it lights the oil lamp and the room,

She picks up her dainty bottle of perfume.

She sniffs the musk scent and smiles,

She hums a tune and her nails she files.

Thunder and lightening begin to roar,

A gust of wind blows the candle to the floor.

She protects the oil lamp from the gale,

It rages a while and then it goes pale.

Her shadows cast an eerie sight,

The frail oil lamp tries to light the dark night.

She studies her hair in the mirror,

She brushes them and then screams in horror.

In the blink of an eye, it goes away,

She believes she saw her reflection, dull and gray.

She inspects her chaste face,

No wrinkles, no blemishes, just her grace.

She feels uneasy and picks up the lamp,

She uses the wash cloth, though cold and damp.

She slowly dries her face and hands,

She feels petrified, staring at the water, she stands.

She sees His reflection beside her own,

She turns around to find herself alone.

She takes the lamp and dashes outside,

Unaware that she has no place to hide.

The ghost of her sin chases her around,

They look for her but she is never found.

Such is the story of the lady of the hill,

The woman in white, she roams still.

So they tell the children before they leave,

To trick or treat on All Hallow's Eve.


About the post: Some of the superstitions and beliefs around Halloween's are used in this post-

As per some beliefs, if unmarried women were to gaze into a mirror in a dark room, they would be able to see their future husband. If they saw a skull, it meant that they would die before getting married.

If a candle blows out on its own or due to wind on Halloween's, it is believed that a ghost is in the vicinity.

If one hears something behind one's back on Halloween's, it is believed that one must never look back for it may be death itself. 

For Bread and Gin

Hear me out, I have a song to sing,

An old tale to you I bring.

A poor hawker had walked about all day,

No sales however had come his way.

Dejected and defeated, he took to the road,

Weary he was, carrying all the load.

The empty pots and pans weighed him down,

Much like the people of the town.

They cared not for him, nor for his wares,

Wherever he went, he only found stares.

As he passed the last house in the town,

He was struck by it and wore a frown.

It was a tree house up in the oak tree,

A small, crooked place as far as he could see.

A voice called out and disrupted his thought,

"Oi! What's that you've got?",

A little man peered out from a window,

"Come on up if you have something to show."

The hawker perked up at the prospect of a buyer,

He cautiously climbed the tree, higher and higher.

He felt he was too big for the tree house,

He waited at the door, like a curious mouse.

The little man opened the door and smiled,

He wore a tattered robe and his hair were wild.

A long greying beard hung under his chin,

He looked old and frail, his make was thin.

His bushy eyebrows loomed over small beady eyes,

That looked distant but also looked wise.

"I've got some pots and pans for sale."

"You should've got along with that, some ale!",

He grumbled as he narrowed his eyes at him.

"Fool! The land was struck by a famine so grim

That they had naught a morsel to eat,

And you cry about pots and pans and their heat,

When people can barely afford grains or meat."

The hawker broke down, he sighed out aloud,

"To come back with a meal,  I had vowed.

I had nothing else to sell for a living,

Fate seems to be most unforgiving."

The little old man softened his stance,

"There there, dear boy, you may still have a chance.

I can offer you a single loaf of my bread,

If you trade all your wares instead."

The hawker was aghast at the man's proposition,

"That, Sir, is far from a sale or trade's definition.

My wares are worth more than a loaf of bread."

"Yes, but I think you will need it in your journey ahead.

It will help you in ways more than one,

If not, then you come back and claim it all, son.

Don't look sad, I'll up my bargain,

Along with the bread, I'll give you some Gin."

The hawker decided to take the offer

And they quickly made the transfer.

The little man bid him farewell with a wink,

"Was I just swindled?", he began to think.

He figured atleast his family would be fed,

His vow would be kept through the loaf of bread.

He walked towards the forest of oak,

He gathered wood till his campfire was out of smoke.

He went onward, with bread, gin and firewood,

He carried as much wood to sell, as he could.

He stumbled upon a patch of unfamiliar grass,

That seemed to grow upon a large earthy mass.

It blocked his way to the road ahead,

He jumped when he saw it spread

All around, till as far as he could see,

He felt weak and began to feel hungry.

He heard the phantom calls of the dead,

They wailed near him, praying to be fed.

His own hunger began to weaken his mind,

He felt his hunger grow, his stomach whined.

Among the dead, a little child cried,

Now and then, the hawker, it eyed.

The hawker struggled with himself,

He knew this trick must belong to an elf.

With much restraint, he broke a morsel of bread,

He crushed it to a powder and threw it to the dead.

They left him alone and went away,

And at once the elf appeared, mumbling his dismay.

"You are a cheat, human. How can you afford bread?

When many others lie here dead.

Ohh! You spoilt it all for me."

The elf grumbled and disappeared behind a tree.

The grass disappeared, the earthy mass remained,

He looked about and the remaining Gin he drained

As he continued his journey to his hometown.

That night his family ate but his wife wore a frown.

The wares were gone for bread and gin,

Again, he had let his weakness win.

She wondered what tales were to follow,

He tried to explain but she found it hard to swallow.



About the post: As per Irish mythology, "hungry grass/fairy grass" is a patch of cursed grass. It is believed that anyone who passes through it will be struck by hunger and can overcome this curse only if they are carrying something to eat.