Two intrepid lovers blaze their way thru the fog, dodging the ruts and avoiding the enclosing trees of the mountain road, riding a ghostly torrent of swirling mists, perfect for the approach of All Hallows Eve.
“Whew, baby, this gray is alive - like something the witches have cooked up” “he he - ah my love, the witches take all forms - they are right here in full force - with all the hype along all the channels, all the notes of enrage, there will be more spirits here than ever — this will be wicked fun this year” “can the wild claims and reports of real harm be true?” “impossible to tell with so much madness” “well, this has always been place to bring all that out - behind every tree and in every hidden nook of this sprawling hollowed spot” “perhaps many are lured by the ghoulishness of the ugly talk itslef” “whew baby, indeed”…
…Their exited exchanges - their own notes upon the twists and turns comfort and steady, infusing them with strength, as they bounce along in their all-terrain, as they return to their beloved haven of lost souls - an ancient destination for lovers to beautifully, quietly, peacefully lose themselves for a spell, now transformed and perhaps, a lost soul itself - now a maddeningly popular resort and favorite hotspot for a new generation to celebrate the frights.
“This really is a hollow that sleeps no more - I hope the others are alright” “I know, we called them here - we come here to indulge ourselves, and still can, but we must be much more careful - even here.”
Thru openings in the shadows they glimpse the colors of Autumn at it’s peak, and peer for glimpses of their fellows, their clan that shares everything and means everything, needing badly to disappear together in this maize of paths and dells.
All the while, all the spirits of the extremes, from the margins and edges of our times, they stoke themselves with their own notes, their own missives of urgency, and rise from their own mists and pour upon their wave of reclamation into the Hollow, as well.
Tis the season of wicked delights, of tricks and of treats, of lost souls disappearing for awhile - as unprecedented numbers converge upon their beloved Hollow, the intrepid pair of lovers at the head of the procession winding their way through the mists of the ancient forest, they push away the rumors of genuine frights and peer through the openings for the rest of their clan of lovers…
Here and there all about the Hollow, even as a wave of spirits from the edge of our sphere descend, other lovers are already nicely lost, in hidden nooks, along twisted paths in ancient forest, and high upon the promontory, the rise amid the recesses that have long drawn lovers across all aspects, prompting ever more notes to fly into the chatter provoking all…
…ignore them, disregard their noise - how lovely it is here, as always, these reports can’t be true - we’ll teach them, we’ll show them, it’s ours and we’re taking it all back - ooh, look at them, listen to them, let’s play with them - what wicked fun, as always…
…look, amid it all, those two lovelies driving right into it - and their fellows, so serene at the Center…
…yes, and elsewhere, others are bumping and crashing in the shadows and colors, provoking their inner selves to emerge, their spirits to join with all of us, to merge with all of the ghosts inflight tonight.
Indeed, settled upon ancient stones, the sweetest of kindly folk, the gentlest of the gentle, two of the fellows about which our intrepid ones fret are already adrift with magic of the Hollow.
Hand in hand are Bets and Ben, viewing this timeless haven, overlooking the tapestry of havens within, they lose themselves in moments of discovery, allowing themselves to cede control of the basic realm of survive and strive and delve into the world of underlying strength and serenity.
Un-noticed right in front of them, camouflaged perfectly are Abby and Josh, at this moment glimpsing bedrock in which their very best friends ensconced at the anchor point of this vast landscape, briefly illuminated by the setting sun.
At other wild points around this sprawling enclave of forbidden things, myriad others mix and match, encounters building upon each other as the magic works it’s own effect, merging ethereal spiders with the flood of spiritual notes and missives of pure harm for it’s own sake - yes, even here, of course here, the madness of narrow extremes at an extreme of it’s own builds to the inevitable explosions.
Amid it all are yet other gentlefolk, loving, kindly in their own right, a closest of couples, they also wind their way. Belle and Ned, the warmest and genuine of kindred humanity there is, beset with their fears and angers, they grope ahead on unsteady foot, now surely lost in the twist and turns of the Hollow, vision blurred by the infringing growth and pervasive vapors.
Loving hearts of another aspects they all are, breaking all barriers in their shared intimacies. Our two intrepids out on the mountain road, braving ahead and now lost in thought, the ominous swirls all about them filling their hearts with worries of their beloved Hollow losing its’ way, of gentlefolk like themselves disappearing, of newcomers who don’t appreciate and respect ruining it all - the relentless chatter says so - thus consumed they push in their own loving venture into their realm of shadows and colors.
Unseen but close behind is a host of others, a ghostly procession they are
leading, of a variety of souls, loving and hating, both - a host of pure pi aspect of merging extremes.
Blazing forward into the blind, noting with appreciation each clearing of shadows and gift of colors. Their quest nearing consumption, they peer ahead into the alternating swirl of crystal purity and bewildering shades mixing before them - breathing as one, reveling in the journey and the depth of their love and their mutual readiness to face and embrace the host of others converging in spiritual abandon of All Hallows eve - especially their special fellow lovers, who, true to their nature are early arrivals deep in the Center of the happenings.
Harsh realities of dark places of this wicked season - even here in the beloved, ancient Hollow, now transformed - spirits finding their way in the tangled juggle, now colliding…
“OMG - look - down there - thru the trees - on the ground in that opening, right on the ground! Look quick before the fog comes back - hard to see for sure, but that must be some of them - the lost & missing - oh my god, the loss - lured in, can’t get out - the tales we have been told!”
“The reports - the lies - this is what happens when we listen to them, always!”
“JC - and there, others rushing away - it’s them, caught in the act - “with us or against” - we know who! - get them, stop them!”
On the ground, figures, not moving, people, deep in the woods - lost in woods and now found - others moving away - way beyond shadows & colors, mystery solved…
…suddenly revealed by a parting of the fog, others glimpse and react and sound the alarm - the reports must be true - lost souls have indeed been disappearing…
…dangerous times and places - even in this haven - nothing is sacred - no help for miles - gentlefolk in the wilds, astray, alone - what next?!