Unforgiving Halloween

I have been told that darkness is only the absence of light, that darkness truly does not exist. Whether this is true or not I can not judge, but as the sunlight fades I cannot believe that something does not take it's place.1

Throughout history and across many religions tonight is the end. The old year is brushed aside to make way for a new one, past time making way for new life. Tonight is the time to say goodbye to the past, to remember the good in the previous year and to forgive any grudges made in it. This is the most important, letting past grievances die with the failing year.2

But I can't, the crimes are to great. I stare at the ruins of my life, stained red with the setting sun. I will not forget, as the darkness rises from the ground, chasing the fleeing light, I will not forgive.3

As the last light leaves them, bales of straw spring into dancing flames, chasing back the darkness, dancing in their own light and destruction. I stare at the bale infront of me, watch as the last light fades from it. Instinctively I move to light it, to say goodbye to the dead year and burn my grief and anger with the straw.4

I force my hand back, let the torch fall to the soil, leave the straw, my hatred unburnt. The torch falls into the mud, the flame hisses and dies down. And alone in the darkness stands a single bale untouched.5

Shouts rise up, others have noticed. Footsteps, voices, fear. To late, the sun has set, the old year is gone and the new will not start until morning. One night that belongs to no years, one night that is mine.6

I stare at the broken torch, the wooden handle splintered where it had hit the ground. The last faint embers glowing at the end. As they die, so does all that I am. What little is left is not worth having.7

Hate and Sorrow.8

People gather round, fear, concern, anger at me for causing the concern. I turn and face them, the anger and concern slip away as they look into my face. Glassy eyes that do not reflect the dancing of the flames, set in a unmoving face, not the faintest twitch nor glimmer of alien emotion disturbed my visage of hate.9

I moved and they retreated, back to the refuge of their village. I followed, one even step after another, slowly but relentlessly chasing my fearful enemies.10

They found refuge of a kind in the town hall. Adorned with plants and bones, surrounded by fruit and skulls, it was shielded by the dead and coming years, I belonged to neither and could not pass.11

A feast was laid within, yet no-one dared to touch it, all sat in silence listening to the sounds of the hollow thing without. The hours dragged and no-one moved save the shivers of fear. All throughout that last night I paced around the hall, listening to their breathing, drinking on their fear.12

At last the sunlight returned carrying the newborn year, and in the sparkling sunlight the hall door swung free, and the villagers ventured out.13

Discarded in the dust I lie, a pile of withered bones, my hatred is left between the years and bones is all that is left.14

Jack