Hello Regina! I've
been lucky enough to receive you
as my Soul Sisters Secret Sister
for the month of October.
Halloween is one of my favorite
holidays and I'm hoping it is for
you too. *S* My gifts to you
during the month will be primarily
Halloween graphics, stories and
poems. I hope you enjoy
them. *grin* The
original story below was written
by a friend of mine.
Nobody had ever met the
spirits of the woodland. Every
Halloween, the townsfolk could
hear them sing, deep in the swampy
heart of the forest, somewhere
behind the eerie glowing
mists...but their true faces
remained a mystery. I was
determined to discover the truth.
Lindy, Tad and Abby had all agreed
to join me on this strange quest
for the secret of the Halloween
voices. Slowly, we crept our way
through the dark, moonlit trees,
which glowered down at us with
scowls of twisted bark. It was
incredibly creepy, each footstep
shattering the silence with the
snap of twigs or the flutter of
startled wing beats. "Maybe
there's nothing here but owls,"
shuddered Abby. "Maybe we should
just go back." "Scardey!" taunted
Tad. "Scared of a few little
birds?" "Not the birds," replied
Abby. "It's the TREES that freak
me out!" And at that moment, one
of the twisted branches swooped
down and knocked Abby off her
feet. Before the rest of us could
react, she was running back
towards the town, her torch beam
waving wildly through the branches
as her screams faded into the
distance. "Shame," whispered a
deep voice from somewhere above
us. "What a shame she should be so
scared. Did she never have the joy
of climbing a tree?" Lindy shone
her torch up at the tree which had
spoken. "Look!" she cried. "A
bridge of branches!" Eagerly, we
ducked and swung and clambered our
way across the tangled bridge of
branches, which took us high into
the cool, moonlit air. "Look out!"
screamed Tad, his courage
deserting him as thick fingers of
mist swooped down around us. A few
more screams, and he too was gone.
"Shhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaammmmmme,"
hissed the mist, "that he never
knew the joy of dancing with the
clouds." So, as the mist swirled
around us, myself and Lindy danced
our way across the bridge,
twisting and twirling in the
shifting colours of the sunset,
bopping with the breezy billow.
Then, suddenly, the bridge of
branches collapsed beneath our
feet. We dropped through the misty
air and splattered unceremoniously
into a thick carpet of spongy
moss. "Eeeew!" screeched Lindy.
"I'm soaked!" Shaking herself dry,
she stomped back towards town,
muttering to herself. "Shame,"
sighed the moss, its mottled
colours glinting in the moonlight.
"What a fuss to make over getting
a little wet!" As I bounced my way
across the moss like an acrobat on
a moonlit trampoline, I could see
a light somewhere in front of me.
Then, as I got closer, I could
hear the singing - high and
bright, like restless Angels on
the midnight breeze. Finally, as
the little revelers began to swarm
around me, I could see the source
of the light: a faery campfire. I
had found the secret voices of the
woods, by following the dancing
path which led to their song.
Copyright
2002 by John E. Hulme
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