Echoes of Halloween
The Night They Came
written by: Illustrious Da Poet
When the Alien Ship Landed in Miami on Halloween
It was Halloween,
and the sky cracked open—
not with thunder,
but with light,
a glow that wasn’t from this world.
Miami’s streets were alive,
thrumming with beats and bass,
costumes that hid as much as they revealed,
and laughter,
echoing between the high-rises,
dancing with the wind.
Then they saw it—
hovering like a dream,
or maybe a nightmare,
silver and smooth,
as if carved from moonlight.
It descended,
slow and certain,
onto South Beach’s sands,
turning heads,
stopping hearts.
The music faltered,
then faded to a hush,
as if the night held its breath,
waiting for a whisper,
or a scream.
Doors slid open,
and they emerged—
not the green-skinned,
wide-eyed beings of old movies,
but something different,
something that shimmered and shifted,
as if their bodies were made of light,
or thought,
or the space between dreams.
They didn’t speak,
but everyone knew,
in that deep, ancient way,
that they had come
not for war,
not for peace,
but to witness.
To see what it was
that made humans paint their faces,
don costumes of monsters and myths,
and walk under the moonlight
with shadows trailing close.
Children in masks of ghosts and ghouls
stood frozen,
their candy forgotten,
while adults,
with painted faces and half-drunk eyes,
stared in wonder
at beings who needed no disguise.
And then,
just as silently as they came,
they left—
rising like a sigh,
disappearing into the ink-black sky,
leaving behind only questions,
and a night that felt
a little more unreal
than it already was.
Miami exhaled,
the music returned,
and Halloween continued,
but the memory of that ship,
those beings,
lingered in the air,
like the scent of salt and sea,
reminding everyone
that some masks
aren’t meant to be taken off,
and some nights
are more than they seem.
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