This one's not so old... 2009. It's no secret that I adore Halloween, and thus I really like this one. At the time, I wrote:

Halloween. My kind of night. It’s when everything seems a little more normal for me, oddly enough. Living half in a world of monsters and half in the world of man can be wearing… but at Halloween time, it all blends together. People say that on Halloween, the veil between the spirit and mortal realms is at its thinnest… I don’t know about that. But I do know that it’s when people embrace monsters. It’s when you see people in capes, with fangs, or masks. It’s when a werewolf doesn’t stand out quite as much, and when my kind can relax a little, and be a bit less careful.

That is not to say, however that my kind is careless at this time of year. Especially with the moon being only two days away from being full. Sure, we may not have to change… but the fuller the moon, the harder it is to keep a grip on our human shape. And, why keep it if we didn’t want, or need to? Thus is why we decided our favorite dilapidated cemetery was the place for us to celebrate. No one lived nearby, or cared about this place, save for us. Maybe it’s because people seem to dislike graveyards. I’ve heard people don’t like them because they’re places of death. We disagree—We think they’re places for remembering life.

During the day we’d littered the place with jack-o-lanterns, set up tables with treats for ourselves (Candy right next to bloody steaks, a feast for us), and even set up a small altar for us to leave offerings for those we remember. I was the first of us to arrive after we’d all wandered into the woods to Change, and I was one of the few wolves who didn’t also make a costume for my lupine self. It wouldn’t matter though… Costumed or not, later, we’d all be singing to the moon, and probably fall asleep in a pile of fur and claws. As the fog rolled into the graveyard in soft, creeping tendrils, I found one of our fresh, raw steaks and dug in. The one problem with a wolven form is that they aren’t as easy to stay clean in. By the time I’d finished, I looked positively gruesome… how fitting-- no, how fortunate. Costume, shmostume, I looked like a proper Halloween werewolf, without the bothersome casualties.

I grinned as I heard a howl nearby. The night was young, and would be all too short, but we had until dawn to revel and howl.

Sing to the moon. Sing of Halloween.

Happy Hallowishes everyone!