Mommy will be right back

Her hand grasped firmly the wobbling handrail,
a step further, another crack of wood.

The candle she held but contoured her face,
as she moved the shadows danced ever still.

A light burst through the basement's entrails
drawing a table with perturbing tools,
broken chairs and gimmicks conquered by webs,
only to drawn back to the depths of black.

Followed the rattling of the enraged skies,
heavy bodies of water crash in fight,
shaking her spine the way down to her thighs,
the candle nearly dropped to start a fire.

A foot forward, her free hand ahead
to slowly test for free space between shades.
Her pinky smashes a hefty card box
and the drunken candle vomits hot wax

Then sharp profanity words are exhaled
and she resumes her stroll through the dark woods
shades delineate in her somber mind
while screams of frightened kids reach from above.

Her fingers touch the smooth plate of plastic,
open carefully (it's a brittle lid)
to find a switch in a bow position.
''Found it!'' - She shouts as she pulls it upwards.

Buzzing lights eat the forest from the mess
and chants of joy waterfall down the walls.
She blew out the candle, ran up the stairs
to her spot amid the couch and a blanket.

"Let's watch something filled with suspense! Popcorn?"
Cheers in uproar greeted her short comment.

The monster mash

Dark shaded eyes on pale faces in black and white.
Sharp teeth and claws shine the hovering full moon light,
while onix capes and ivory gowns give gloom life
to the uncomprehended children of the night.

The milky gleam baptizes hairy howling hound,
the enchanting piercing focus of femme fatal,
the unseen, arms crossed, in shades is covered in cloth,
a thirsty count with capturing sight bares his fangs,
a gilled humanoid high-fives with long webbed fingers,
all wrapped in the musty stench of rotten corpses:
mummified, brought to life or assembled from parts.

This is the ancient unholy mash of monsters,
the welcoming post card to real Halloween,
may their emo flash mob sweeten your careless dreams.

Halloween Grinch

Knock... knock...

And I open the door.

What are all these masks for?

The night is fought
by candles and lanterns
carved from vegetables
in my front porch.
Loafs of pumpkin and spice
must reach the roads end,
the perfect bait!

A spider on a web over a face,
pale olive completion with hollow screws,
a surgeon holding a plastic saw and a brace
where dripping blood was reproduced.
All huge eyes and brightened teeth,
hands extended in gluttonous cheers
begging for candy and all sorts of treats.

A cold gulf of air freed through the frame
on queue I unfold my dark heavy cape
unleashing a flash bellow a bony square chin
curated with rice powder and gin.

With blood thirst in my ruby stare
petting my hissing black cat
with the lowest voice I can set
I tower over them and declare:

"Your costumes were bought!
You cannot contain your glee!
Take some paste for your tooth
that is all that it is worth here."

Before they could piss in their pants
I turn the door shut and echoed two laughs.
Well done Simba! Let's turn off the fans
check their picture and wait for their parents.