Title art, “The Reflection of Sinister” by L.H. Grey

 

 

 

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John Carpenter “Halloween (2018)”

 

 

 

 

I shall never forget the night He came home
To the sleepy town of Haddonfield
The place where
Fifteen years ago
The blood of a teenage girl was spilled

 

Judith Myers was her name
Her future bright
Outlook the same
Her death was quick
Though not too fast
To recognize her sibling’s face

 

Beneath a mask
He hid away
His blank, pale, and emotionless face
With blackest eyes
The devil’s eyes
To act as deadest giveaway

 

This six-year-old boy
Michael by name
Though one dark day
To be feared as The Shape
Was purely and simply… evil

 

Institutionalized
He bided time
With patience of a holy saint
And the dead calm of a wind chime
On a still midsummer day

 

Not hamstrung by conscience
Susceptible to reason
You cannot source a meaning
From that which knows no age or season

 

This isn’t a man
And neither a demon
But something far more grave
Something we dare not disbelieve in

 

The Boogeyman
Knows not remorse
In silence stalks
With unmatched force
Dedicated to a solitary cause
To punish this unjust divorce

 

On All Hallow’s Eve
Five more relieved of final breath
Same five received unkindly death
Death came back to the little town of Haddonfield

 

No last-minute appeal was granted
Bitter end to this ordeal
Commanded
And sanguine stained the felled leaves of this
Quaint suburban battlefield

 

Armed with twelve inch butcher’s blade
Bestowed his Samhain serenade
For Laurie Strode
Most narrow escape
But certain remembrance never does fade

 

I shall never forget the night He came home
Have the scar on my left tricep to prove it
I shall never again rest easy
For Michael simply would not approve this

 

No Jack-o-Lantern
Adorns this porch
Whatever happens
I shall bear the torch
Will not see kindred blood disgorged
Will not stand by while hateful fates are forged

 

You see, I too have bided time
Perused crosshairs with slitted eye
With patience of a holy saint
And the dead calm of a wind chime
On a still midsummer day

 

He wants a bloody fight
My timeless rival
Well I damn well want one too
And having spent too many years
In fear and loathed to start anew
I’ll know damn well what to do
Upon arrival

 

Will gladly die to protect my lot
As the one thing I lack not
Is stiffened backbone
And I shall be right here
This Hallowe’en
On the night He comes back home

 

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

 

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