Dear Wings...Thank you for the bedtime story. I am up late putting the finishing trims on my witch hat in anticipation of haunting a few houses tomorrow.
--- In email@example.com, "Wings081" <wings081@...> wrote:
> Dear members
> Time is running short before Oct turns to Nov and there is a dearth of
> stories on t2w to entertain the children before the sun rises on All Saints Day and so to redress this deficiency and spur on newcomers, I will offer a tale I presented some years back to start the ball rolling:
> A Halloween message for children.
> Warning: Not suitable for children under the age of 12 months.
> Are you sitting comfortably, then I'll begin:
> Tonight my little ones is the celebration of Halloween. It is a time to be afraid.
> A time to be very afraid, for there are happenings on this eve which can turn a man's hair white overnight with terror.
> I hope you are safely at home with your elders, for the tale I am about to relate is a true story of a little boy who ignored his parents wishes and ventured out into the night.
> Patrick O'Flaherty was thirteen years old and had been entrusted by his mother to look after his younger brother Tommy while she and Pat's father went out to celebrate the eve of the Celtic New Year at a dance to be held at Listowel, some twenty miles by road from their home at Ballynaskreena in County of Kerry on the coast at the south side of the mouth of the mighty Shannon river.
> It was fifteen minutes past eight o'clock when Pat decided he would take young Tommy into the village and try his hand at trick or treat. He had no pumpkin or candle so covered his face with a scary mask.
> After walking a short mile, Tommy began to moan his legs ached and he wanted to go home and no amount of coaxing could persuade Tommy to go forward.
> Now Tommy was about the weight of half a sack of potatoes and there was no way Pat was going to carry him to the village and back home again, so there was nothing more to do but turn for home.
> Passing along the cliff above a small cove, a bright firelight flickered on the beach.
> A crowd of people were gathered around the fire over which was a spit with what appeared to be a ram roast in progress.
> "Ah! good thought Pat, maybe there's a beach barbecue down there, I'll carry Tommy down and see if I can persuade them to give us a `burger and a Coke, or at least a slice of cooked meat."
> As Pat and young Tommy reached the sand, a dozen small people gathered around the pair. It was then Pat discovered what he had mistaken for revellers holding pumpkins, was in fact a crowd of dwarfs, or to be politically correct; vertically challenged persons. The pumpkins were the little people's heads. There were obviously no lights inside but there were slits for eyes nose and mouth and from the eye slits, lights glittered so blindingly brilliant, Pat was forced to avert his gaze.
> Suddenly, without so much as "by your leave" Pat was held fast by half a dozen of the little people, who henceforth I shall refer to as P M (Pumpkin Men).
> Two of the PMs grabbed hold of young Tommy, and carried him towards the fire.
> Tommy was crying out loud as a PM tore off the boy's clothes, rammed an iron bar through him and placed him between the two `A' frames forming a spit.
> The poor boy stopped crying as the chief PM turned the handle while Tommy went around and around.
> What happened next surprised Pat even in his state of terror: A Pumpkin man scooped a bucket of sea water from the waves and with a ladle, drizzled water over Tommy to baste him and stood back as the water spat with the heat while poor Tommy sizzled.
> Meanwhile others were feeding the fire with what at first appeared to be black pebbles but which Pat realised were pieces of solidified oil from a recent tanker spillage in the bay.
> After a while Chief Pumpkin Man produced a carving knife and taking a slice of Tommy, put it into the slit forming a mouth.
> This was the signal for the others to start eating and Pat was let free to his own devices as they all rushed forward to sample the flesh on Tommy's bones.
> Shaking his head in disbelief at what had happened and wondering what his parent's were going to say when he told them about Tommy's absence, Pat turned to race away from the beach and ran into a solid wall.
> It was the wall of his bedroom and in the lower bunk bed Tommy was fast asleep.
> Now children, you may think that was just a silly dream or nightmare. If that is your preferred explanation how can you account for the deep red scar at the back of Tommy's head right between his shoulder blades, or the fact Patrick is now a confirmed vegetarian who heeds every command of his parents and never ventures near the beach.
> I tell you young maties, on the eve of Halloween you should make sure you're safely indoors before sundown, for there are goings on out there which even I would not wish to encounter and I have faced a pride of hungry lions on the Serengeti plains of Tanzania in East Africa and an angry Grizzly bear in the Rockies. I have fought with the Japanese masters of the martial arts, for I am afraid of no man, but those little men on the Emerald Isle are something else and you won't catch me anywhere in their vicinity on a night such as tonight, the Night of Halloween.
> Check out those pumpkins before you invite them into your house, for those little people have some crafty tricks up their sleeves and cannibalistic appetites
> Pleasant dreams, sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite.
> Talk to you tomorrow, if you make it through the night.
> Night night from
> Uncle Wings.