Halloween's Tiny Tales

"Jack-o'-Lantern 2003-10-31" by Toby Ord - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.5 via Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jack-o%27-Lantern_2003-10-31.jpg#/media/File:Jack-o%27-Lantern_2003-10-31.jpg

Grimacing at their pawns
As they gather upon the lawns,

Unwitting souls in the night,
Bow before Jack-o-lanterns burning bright.

The freezing yet tranquil river

Was not what made her shiver.

Chills ran down her spine

As it whispered, "You are mine."

He thought he'd had too much to drink,

Knees knocking as he began to sink

Into a growing pool of black,

None is safe when the shadows attack.

She slipped into the lavender bath,

The water seething with its wrath

As she lay there, in crimson,

Finally letting go of her gun.

He cajoles them each day,

While they sleep, while they pray.

More often than not, he finds a disciple,

A monastery, a demon, a rotten apple.

About the post:

I know I've been out of action for a while, was really tied up with some serious decisions and chores. Since this is the Halloween month, my favourite time for some good thrills and chills, I've whipped up some tiny tales to get me started for Halloween. More to come on monsters, legends, folklore and all things that scream Halloween.

Some people find it very odd that some of us get very excited about Halloween, not that it's a festival that's celebrated in India so I'd like to take this opportunity to share a point on the same. Yes, I know it is a westernized concept (but so is Valentine's, Mothers' or Fathers' day and all the rest), I grew up on a very generous dose of English cartoons (back when Cartoon Network was not what it has become in India now...feel sorry for kids now...I remember writing hate mails to them because I was so horrified with their cartoons at one point) and horror stories. Halloween is a nostalgic time for me and reminds me how wild my imagination grew around it, wild enough to weave stories that can thrill and chill, hence, I get excited and post things related to Halloween. So those who enjoy Halloween, hope that this post gives a boost to your Halloween howls :)

Arcane Rhapsodies-The Witch's Well

"John William Waterhouse - Magic Circle" by John William Waterhouse - Tate Britain. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:John_William_Waterhouse_-_Magic_Circle.JPG#/media/File:John_William_Waterhouse_-_Magic_Circle.JPG

She bit his hands until she was gagged,

He struck her, towards the forest she was dragged.

The moon was witness to the woman’s plight,

On the eve of that Walpurgis Night.

He unsheathed his sword, his eyes were cold,

She mumbled her last words, the future she foretold.

“I shall meet you again, reward you I must.

A soirée awaits, it begins, only just.”

His mighty sword dealt the fatal blow

That’s how the witch fell ages ago.

The valiant soldier wiped his bloodied blade,

The price of heresy, the woman had paid.

He said a solemn prayer by the sacred well,

One and all would remember the day she fell.

He removed her rings, her beautiful locket,

He shoved her into the well, the jewellery in his pocket.

With a glint of greed and a dash of pride,

Off he went, to his newfound fame he applied.

The Walpurgis Night descended soon,

Witches from across the land began to commune.

They revelled freely upon the Brocken heights,

They chanted their spells and finished their rites.

As the night began to draw to a close,

By the sacred well, a young witch froze.

They all gathered around the sacred well,

“Daughters of magic, we must invoke a sacred spell.

Our sister is taken much before her time,

The murderer must be punished for this crime.”

One by one, they said an ancient prayer,

Each plucked out one strand of hair,

Each wished aloud for their sister fair.

Each gave her part of their souls’ share.

That Walpurgis Night, the slain witch did rise,

Amidst her sisters’ mystical cries.

The arcane verses of the spell made her undead,

“Farewell till we meet again.”, they said.

The witches dispersed as daylight raced with them,

The undead witch cast a spell for a hem.

It stitched her wounds, it sewed her back,

But no spell or stitch could dispel the black.

About the post: This is an excerpt from my book, "Arcane Rhapsodies", the poem being "The Witch's Well". Will the witch exact her revenge? Hope you enjoyed this read.

You can find more about the book here:

Arcane Rhapsodies on Goodreads

Arcane Rhapsodies on Amazon.in

Arcane Rhapsodies on Authorspress website

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. 

Bringing her home

My voice, it falters but my will shall not betray,
These tales that I have vowed to convey.
As the fifth song I begin,
I feel an unearthly chill from within.
A woman waded forward, surrounded by snow,
The village lights had soon turned into a distant glow.
Izumi still went forward, unrelenting,
"Maiko!!", she called out, all the while lamenting.
"Maiko!!", her tears nearly froze as they came
But she continued to call out her name.
She thought of nothing, except her child,
She worried not of what lurked in the wild.
The villagers spoke about legends of Yuki
Tales of terror and downright spooky.
She was said to be a mistress of snow
Who perished in a snowstorm ages ago.
A Yokai's form she assumed,
So many lost, so many her snow consumed.
Some said she was a beauty, most divine
With unmatched allure, her silken robes were fine.
Some said her lips were frozen blue,
Some said that the living's life she drew.
Some said she feasted upon mortal blood
Till they bled dry and slumped with a thud.
Some said she floated like a feather,
Some said she could control the weather.
Some said she had long, black hair,
Few said she was also known to care.
But Izumi went on, her mind was made,
"Maiko!!", she continued to wade.
A snow storm was beginning to rise,
And all one could hear was Izumi's cries.
The wind howled and bellowed
To warn her but her grit would not erode.
She still went further, deeper inside the storm
When finally she spotted a stranded form.
She ran up to her and turned her around,
She gasped in horror and then she frowned.
A woman lay lifeless, turning blue in the snow,
A woman Izumi once used to know.
She said a silent prayer and paid her obeisance,
Death lingered nearby, engaged in its spritely dance.
"Maiko!!", she yelled as she moved ahead.
Till she found herself walking in little pools of red.
She carefully evaded the nightmarish sight,
And finally, she met her, in the dead of the night.
Izumi stayed still as a mist descended about,
It was Yuki Onna, the Yokai, without a doubt.
"Is my Maiko with you?", Izumi spoke,
"Surely human, you think this is a joke."
Yuki Onna's blue lips curled into a smirk.
"You must not disrupt my work."
Izumi prostrated before the mistress of snow,
"Please, take me and let her go."
"I sent several warnings your way,
But now you have reached the end of your stay.
However, I am not all ice as people say
And one act of kindness, I must display.
Maiko should be safe for now,
One wish, just one, I shall allow?"
Yuki Onna showed her visions of Maiko,
She had taken refuge in a cave of snow.
Izumi thought for a while and then said,
"I wish you were my child, back from the dead."
No sooner had Izumi finished saying so
That Yuki Onna melted away, so did her snow.
Tiny embers of purple sparkled about
And in her place a  baby lay, wearing a pout.
Izumi picked up the child and hugged her tight,
"Let's find your sister, now all is right."



About the post:  This post uses the concept of "Yuki Onna" which, as per Japanese beliefs is a spirit (Yokai) associated with the snow. It is believed of a woman and there are multiple myths about her appearance and powers. 

The Spirit Trap

Much to wonder, much to ponder.
Let me sing again, before you wander.
The fourth story bubbles in my mind,
Be patient as my words unwind.
A little village in the midst of gigantic heights
Himalayan winds roared unforgivingly through the nights.
The villagers abided by frugality,
Exception being their devotion to spirituality.
Every morning, in the early hours,
They gathered together with some flowers.
Together they walked down to the temple square
They meditated for calm and chanted a prayer.
As soon as their prayer was said,
A young monk would come ahead.
"Brothers and sisters, we start a new day."
He would bow with them, not a word more he would say.
When the sky would begin to wear a tinge of black,
All the villagers would tread back.
They would gather again and chant another prayer.
The monk would emerge, holy incense would temper the bitter air.
Then all would retire for the night,
The village would rest, not a soul to be in sight.
Such were the days and nights in the village,
Till one day, a stranger came, with an intent to pillage.
A spy from a foreign land,
He was there to observe the village firsthand.
Was the village worth a loot
Or was it worthy of territorial pursuit?
He had hid himself all day, trained was he,
"Strange! Not a single man or woman at this hour I see."
He said to himself as he moved in the shadows.
"Now what is that, one would suppose."
He looked at the roof of a nearby house,
He ventured close, quiet as a mouse.
A strange contraption adorned the roof,
Bright threads in a spindle left him further aloof.
He looked about and soon observed,
There was one on each roof, it left him unnerved.
"Get it together soldier! You are a master of stealth.
Finish the job and there will be considerable wealth."
He boosted his morale as the wind spat in his face.
"The temple, my steps from the morning I shall retrace.
Lets see what riches it keeps,
Might nick some souvenirs while everyone sleeps."
He walked stealthily in the middle of the night
Till a strange creature came in sight.
It had a thin straw like neck and a great pot belly,
Its eyes darted around, fast and haphazardly.
The spy was petrified and smothered a cry,
Not yet had this creature glanced upon the spy.
It carried the weight of its belly in its brawny hands,
As it waddled about, waving its very many strands
As they whipped the Himalayan air,
The spy ran towards the temple square.
He looked back over his shoulder,
The creature was hurling after him like a boulder.
The spy sped up and held on to his gait
While the creature followed, carrying his weight.
Soon the spy burst into the temple hall,
The monk emerged, he stood tall.
"Its here, help me. Its here.",
He uttered, cowering with fear.
The monk stood in front of him and waited.
Finally the creature came, its sharp teeth it grated.
The monk closed his eyes as if to pray.
The creature chomped hungrily, the monk was eaten away.
No sooner had it taken a bite,
The creature howled over his plight.
The spy still cowered in the shadows
He waited his turn, death was close. 
The creature choked and coughed in pain,
But his hunger he could not restrain.
It rested for a moment, as its form gorged,
Unaware of the energy that surged
From behind, until it spoke,
It chanted a prayer and the creature awoke.
But it neither howled, nor it stirred,
In a snap of the fingers, it took the form of a bird.
The spy was dumb-struck and turned towards the light
The monk! He held a torch, burning bright.
"Ser Na, hungry was that ghost,
Ever consuming , a disease among most.
From its Bardo state it has emerged,
Reborn as a bird once its senses converged.
Forget your violent ways and embrace serenity.
It is time that you remember your identity.
A spy of a ruthless kingdom nearby
You died of your own doing, acting on the sly.
As you fiddled with the spirit traps on the roof tops,
They resisted you and left you but an undead corpse."
The spy remembered now, life came and went fleetingly,
He felt his form change, he smiled one last time, sheepishly.
"I have been found but what awaits you."
With a loud hiss, out of snakeskin it grew.
And so did hiss the Himalayan wind that night,
As the monk came to realize his own plight.



About the post: The post uses the beliefs around Tibetan Ghosts. A hungry ghost as per Tibetan beliefs, has a narrow neck and a huge stomach and thus, can never be satisfied.

Bardo: An intermediate state after a person dies, between two lives, the one over and the next one.

Ser Na: Used to refer to the emotional state of the hungry ghost.

Spirit Trap: A spindle like object with bright threads entwined and used to catch spirits. Once the spirit is caught, the spirit trap is burnt.

The Midnight Ballet

No, I shall not cease to sing,

My second story I now bring.

It seems only yesterday,

When I heard of the 'Midnight ballet'.

A travelling troupe of artists most eccentric.

"Most fervent appeal to Mr. Resnick

To attend the Midnight Ballet as Chief Guest

Please bring your invite, might we suggest."

Mr. Resnick put the invitation away,

He hadn't heard of any Midnight Ballet.

Just then, the radio crackled with a jingle

"Midnight Ballet-let our world mingle,

Invitation only, for the elite,

We've saved you our best seat."

Mr. Resnick re-read the invite

"No address, no time except 'Midnight'."

Just then, Mr. Resnick heard the doorbell ring

Shocked at first, he shot up like a spring.

The butler, "Remy" soon walked up to him

Unsure why his master's face looked grim.

"A letter for you Sir, delivered just now,

I would be retiring for the night, if you allow."

"Yes, yes Remy, hand it to me,

Who made the delivery? Did you see?"

Remy shook his head and handed over the letter,

"Must be that blasted actor!

If he doesn't pay up this time,

I'll make him pay, that stupid mime!"

Remy left as Mr. Resnick unsealed the envelope.

"Greetings Sir, I mean well, you will understand, I hope.

A third time I have been served your notice,

I am penniless and worthless, after the recent crisis.

But I mean well, just like you always said

I'll pay back your loan, alive or dead.

I couldn't imagine being locked away,

Nor could I stand to betray

The trust that you displayed in me.

Thus I give you my possessions, three.

The first, my mind, though broken it be

Second, my mimes, my ability.

Third, my blood, my family.

I'll be there, always, just think of me."

As Mr. Resnick read the last word,

His surroundings stirred,

He gasped for air as the stirring ceased.

"You made it, oh we are most pleased."

His hands shook, his throat was sore,

He didn't seem to be himself anymore.

He turned around and held his chest

The mime whispered, "They are putting me to rest."

Mr. Resnick turned away and shut his eyes.

"This is just in my head, I must be wise!"

He turned back and found himself alone,

"A ploy, to avoid repaying his loan!"

Mr. Resnick dismissed it all and went to bed

But he woke up frightfully, his eyes red.

The clock had rung twelve in the night,

He had promptly sat upright.

Just then, his vision grew hazy,

"Welcome one and all to the world of crazy.

Please give a roar to our Chief Guest."

Ghostly howls left him clutching his chest.

They came close, "We mean well."

They pranced about him until he fell.

Just then, a radio crackled,

"Recent artists' murders leave detectives baffled,

A 'Mr. Resnick' seems to be the common link."

I'll leave the rest for you to think.

The Ghoul of sands

The first story is from an ancient land,

Where far and near was only sand.

A desert where no life was welcome,

The life that came would soon succumb.

Not to the weather, not to forces of nature,

But to some unearthly creature.

For what else could one make of the place,

As it seemed to lack God's mercy and grace.

Nevertheless, a town prospered,

Its people stayed most undeterred.

Their leader was a man of will,

Faith and courage he vowed to instill.

"Heed my words and all will be well."

He even taught them a short spell

"My master wishes his mercy on you,

You are welcome to claim your due

From my master, for his errand I run

These onions I carry for his sickly son."

Their leader repeated his words again,

"Fret not of the outcome, just be gone then.

It may find me sometime, night or day,

I'll fend it off, I have learnt a way.

Question me not upon the matter,

If you want our children to be fatter."

The townsfolk took heed and great care,

They traveled together, always as a pair.

They avoided the desert and its dunes,

For fear of the ghoul and its hellish tunes.

"Dear husband, what have you done?

We have neither a daughter, nor a son.

What if this ghoul paid us a visit?"

"I lied, I must admit.

But I've come to learn its secret.

Once on a journey, I felt most upset.

That is when I heard a ghoulish howl.

What is that stench! So fowl!

It yelled at me as I was jolted,

With my onions, I hastily bolted.

The ghoul abhors onions it seems

Now, sleep well my dear, pleasant dreams."

That night some heard an unearthly wail,

The leader woke up and looked frightfully pale.

The next day, the townsfolk shared their fears,

"My brothers and sisters, lend me your ears,

Last night, a ghoul indeed found me,

So I brought out onions for it to see.

Fear not, for it has retreated back to nowhere

Let this gift of life not go spare."

The townsfolk cheered and got to their chores

In time, the city coffers grew and so did their stores.

Now and then, they heard a ghoulish shriek

They grew accustomed to it, week after week.

Then a day came of great celebration,

The town leader revelled with his administration.

A feast was held at the leader's abode,

Exquisite food and drinks flowed.

Seasoned with 'baharat', the meat was divine,

But the leader felt a chill down his spine.

"I don't feel too well, I must rest."

Saying that, he disappeared from the fest.

His wife tried to follow him 

But he turned her away with a tone most grim.

She pressed her ear against his bedroom door,

She feared for him, a strange wailing he bore.

She had to know what troubled him so,

That's when she remembered the secret window.

She took to the stairs and turned away the flap,

As she peered below, from a long forgotten gap.

"Its not fair, she tricked me, she tricked me!

That evil step mother, how could I not see?

The nutmeg of her 'baharat' each day,

It killed me too soon, it whisked life away.

And now again, when I find some solace,

She's after me again, she enjoys this chase.

Soon I will overpower her as I feast

Day after day, I gather the souls of the deceased.

The other ghouls, they taste fine,

Soon all these mortals will be mine."

The leader laughed and cried and laughed at fate

It looked above and smirked at her straight.