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Greetings, and welcome to my blog! Here you will find all sorts of stories and trivia about a lot of "Dark" things, perhaps even get a peek into the mind of the blog creator as he has a nervous break down and goes mad! There are or will be some great ghost stories and legends, poetry and prose, photographs, art and history, all to appease your inner Goth... Read us on your mobile or lap top in bed or by candle light- as we hope to bring you a chilling, ripping good tale. So while your reading here, keep checking the corner of your eye... You may just catch a glimpse of... something else in the room!

Warning! Some of these writings my be of an intense nature and not for sensitive or immature audiences.

Monday, October 22, 2012

HALLOWE'EN FAILURE

Over the weekend, I read this neat little bit o prose in an old book called The Book of Hallowe'en by Ruth Edna Kelley, (published in Boston by Lothrop, Lee &Shepard & Co. in 1919.) It is a collection of Halloween customs, legend and lore from around the globe. A majority of our Halloween traditions here in The USA, are from Ireland and Scotland. But here in the "Melting pot" of the USA, everyone can contribute to the mix!

This story is told in African-American dialect similar to that of the much beloved Uncle Remus stories that were very popular with children before the days of political correctness and overly inflamed ethnic and racial  sensitivities. This particular piece was published originally in Harper's Weekly, October 29th, 1910.


HALLOWE'EN FAILURE

by Carlyle Smith


Who's dat peekin' in de do'?
Set mah heart a-beatin'!
Thought I see' a spook for sho
On mah way to meetin'.
Heerd a rustlin' all aroun',
Trees all sort o' jiggled;
An' along de frosty groun'
Funny shadders wriggled.
Who's dat by de winder-sill?
Gittin' sort o' skeery;
Feets is feelin' kind o' chill,
Eyes is sort o' teary.
'Most as nervous as a coon
When de dawgs is barkin',
Er a widder when some spoon
Comes along a-sparkin'.
Whass dat creepin' up de road,
Quiet like a ferret,
Hoppin' sof'ly as a toad?
Maybe hit's a sperrit!
Lordy! hope dey ain't no ghos'
Come to tell me howdy.
I ain't got no use for those
Fantoms damp an' cloudy.
Whass dat standin' by de fence
Wid its eyes a-yearnin',
Drivin' out mah common-sense
Wid its glances burnin'?
Don't dass skeercely go to bed
Wid dem spookses roun' me.
Ain't no res' fo' dis yere head
When dem folks surroun' me.
Whass dat groanin' soun' I hear
Off dar by de gyardin?
Lordy! Lordy! Lordy dear,
Grant dis sinner pardon!
I won't nebber--I declar'
Ef it ain't my Sammy!
Sambo, what yo' doin' dar?
Yo' can't skeer yo' mammy!

--CARLYLE SMITH in Harper's Weekly, Oct. 29, 1910.

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