The Gift of Hallowe’en
written by: Julie O’Donnell
She raps hard on the doors – homes from rooftop to floor decked in cobwebs and spiders and gore.
Pumpkins spew, witches brew, cats mew, ghouls ‘wooh-hoo’; plastic cauldrons and monsters galore.
‘Trick or treat’ gains her sweets at the homes in some streets.
But the best are the rest by a mile: they pay out with a smile (taken in by her guile). No tricks here carried out by deadbeats.
‘Raising funds for the shelter.’ Oh – that line is a belter! Her ‘innocent’ eyes child-like wide.
‘You look great! Come inside!’ (She can cope with the light. It’s the sun which she fears – it’d melt her.)
Collared cloak lifted high for effect, as each neck she considers with aching desire,
and longing, and thirst born of centuries cursed. (A drink habit they’re forced to acquire.)
Pulse pounding and throbbing, she cares not for the sobbing of victims – or gifts, as she calls them.
She prefers they be fat – nice thick necks to sup at. (Taking time – it avoids indigestion.)
There’s no longer remorse at her life’s tragic course. The fight she put up when taken
by her waxen-faced friend didn’t alter the end. (And a blood breakfast beats eggs and bacon!)
Took a while to sink in that this ‘life’ full of sin was eternal, and was her new norm.
With no going back to her family and friends, she’s now focused on lives to deform.
There are pluses of course. No need for recourse to cosmetics for perpetual youth.
Skin dewy and plump as the blood spits and pumps. Though you’d say she was long in the tooth!
For a vampire, this night is the devil’s delight – a gift given by ignorant mortals.
Stupid costumes they wear, stupid children they scare as they channel their faux para-normals.
Her joy knows no bounds as she counts up the pounds for the shelter in which she will lie
’til the sunlight dies down and the night wears its crown of sinister moon in the sky.
In excitement her breath it would quicken and rasp, if it were not by death she’d been stricken.
Sticky candy discarded; her night’s work rewarded by rules of engagement re-written.
So tomorrow at dusk she will rise from the dust and a shopping trip she’ll undertake.
Coffin – oak, satin, brass – for this vampire with sass. A more comfortable bed is at stake.
She knows she now has the required amount as agreed with the funeral director.
Not a great deal to raise as she’s already paid. (His business now gets loads of extras!)
Who knew that a vampire could be such a liar as to ‘fundraise for dogs and for cats’?
It was no afterthought to raise funds to have bought a new coffin.
(And her pets? They’re all bats!)
- The Gift of Hallowe’en - October 29, 2024
