The Setting

Your pumpkin: In costume, perched on the edge of a low brick wall.

You: Speed on blades, a roller-ghost.

I: Attired in black cat stealth, watching the energy build and brew.


The Event

Your pumpkin: Sits, eyes a candle dance above an expression of grave concentration.

You: Shout your blood, a banshee witch on squealing wheels screaming through the half-pipe.

I: Gulp air, a vicarious vampire, past glories resonant.


The Conclusion

Your pumpkin: Flickers your breeze.

You: Cackle like a cartoon witch.

I: Think seven-year-old girls are miracles with feet.



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