‘And the scarecows danced ‘neath the sickle moon’
Donald Harry Roberts
It was the hour of twelve on Halloween night and the sickle moon waxed ‘cross a starry sky. Quiet and serene were the streets of Gore Bay with all the ghosts and goblins, wizards and witches, skeletons and ogres gone to their dens with their candies and treats and sweet delights.
The first whisper of this magic night swept in fits and starts, rustling the trees that line Meredith Street and as though it had a mind of its own spun and gathered in a wailing whirl at Eleanor Street; then burst with a rush and shot like jets of wind in four directions, howling like wolves and banshees beckoning the spirits of All Hallows Eve.
The second whisper came on a chant of voice darting hither and there, echoing among the buildings and down alleyways dashing through the last leaves of autumn-still clinging to the trees lining the street. And it seemed the night shivered as the spirit voices grew louder and their words came clear even to the human ear…and heart, though they were tucked safely in their cozy homes.
“Rise, rise you sleeping ones made to celebrate this passing harvest. This be your night to celebrate your lives for soon you will pass into chasms of wistful memories. But on this night, you will rise from the places where you have lingered these long weeks watching the passersby of the daylight world. For this is Halloween, the night that the spirits rejoice.”
Then as the voices faded and some bell began to chime 12 and an unseen orchestra offered the night an eerie waltz the Scarecrows of Meredith Street gathered in a great circle neath a sickle moon and began their dance of joy. And then formed a line and whispered like gossamer wraiths up one street and down another. Then in the air and drifted into the water and circled the pavilion then swept down and whistled along the boardwalk.
And the world belonged to them until the hour struck one when the Scarecrows of Meredith Street returned to their perch.
Did you peek out your window?
