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Halloween is Metal Rating: G |
Charles Foster Offdensen was glad to see the looming fortress that was Mordhaus rising before him in the fall evening. He had been away for five days in Los Angeles, dealing with the record label, and he was only too happy to now be walking up the path to the mighty keep. He breathed deeply of the scent of autumn leaves, of roast chestnuts, pumpkin pie, and the other fragrances associated with Autumn. It was his favourite time of the year, and he was glad it was one of the few holidays permitted in Mordland, other than Totally-Not-Christmas, because Christmas wasn’t metal, and they were all nihilists anyway. Yeah. Right. And those little reindeer garlands were purely to make the Scandinavians feel at home. Charles walked down the wide stone path that led to the main door of the Haus, admiring the golden trees, the drifts of multi-hued leaves, and the soft eerie mist that drifted in from the sea. In the distance he could hear the boys laughing in the twilight, playing in the leaves. Charles sighed in pure contentment, glad to be home with his bizarre little family once more. Yeah the money was good. But it wasn’t why he stayed. He turned the corner and stopped, staring blankly in disbelief at the display on the steps, words briefly failing him. In the background the boys played, the delicate mist rolled, and all seemed ancient and pagan, like a page out of another century. And then there was the jack-o-lantern display before him, reminding Charles once again he really was the sole adult on the property.
“Let me guess,” said Charles to no one in particular. “Pickles carved the pumpkins this year.” |
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