If you walk down Brier Lane
on the night of Hallows Eve,
be mindful of the sounds you hear,
and all the sights you see.
Some nights ago, a thousand plus;
five years to the day,
Death cast down its grizzled shroud.
Down here on Brier Lane.
Lit lanterns perfumed the night.
The moon payed homage to Earth.
Just like it'd been a thousand times
or more before my birth.
The sleepy nighttime was alive
with creatures great and small:
Goblins, witches, fairies, queens;
beggars one and all.
Golden brown and sundown red
leaves fluttered `bout the air.
The stars danced to joyful tunes
of youth without a care.
A shrill wind did dagger-stab
to the heart of Brier Lane.
A mortal wound to guarantee
Halloween ne`er come again.
Lost within the wilderness,
`mongst tress and brush and shade
was lost a small young fairy queen:
One Amanda A. McDade.
Wandering far off from the path,
a puppy she did chase.
Now alone in dark she cried
as tears stream'd down her face.
The moon watched on its high perch
as she fumbled `bout her way.
Desp'rately seeking the home she knew
along that Brier Lane.
How she cried out to the air
her wails filled full with fright.
As fate would have it, something heard,
and took pity on her plight.
It emerged in misty dew.
It coiled to her feet.
An ethereal voice, in whispered tones,
to young Amanda greet.
"I've come to help." The mist did say.
"Please don't be afraid."
The mist crept closer around
frightened young McDade.
A from it took, gradual shape,
of a human, young and fair.
A beaut'ous girl, kindly eyes,
soft skin and golden hair.
It took the hand of young McDade.
Her palm felt cold, yet kind.
A ghost? Angel? Wandering soul?
Amanda did not mind.
The moon gazed down from up on high.
The stars, seemed, did give chase.
As Amanda and her ghostly guide
did seek exit from that place.
Leaves crackled along the midnight grass.
The air did stink of hay.
Though both sought to leave the wooded brush
they quickly lost their the way.
"Amanda," said the tiny girl. "And what is your name?"
"I have no name," the mist replied,
"but I like yours anyway."
And so they wandered, hand in hand,
towards the rising moon.
Unaware of Death's looming shroud,
heralding their doom.
Instead of towards that Brier Lane,
deeper did they go.
And from the gray the stars did fall:
It began to snow.
Colder did the night winds blow.
Frost began to creep
upon her gentle cherub cheeks:
She no longer felt her feet.
Her pixie wand slipped from her hand.
She stumbled in the snow.
Scream and cry as the ghost did try,
Amanda would not go.
They say that she thought of home
with her final breath.
And the ghost who sought to bring her home
had only brought her death.
Now the children are locked up tight.
The night no longer theirs.
For only the brave or the dumb
on the streets ever dare.
For on this day each Halloween,
the ghost guilt'ly walks the same.
To find Amanda, and bring her home.
Here...to Brier Lane.
***************
Robin closed the computer file, a grim expression glaring back at him in the monitor. He had told Secret he would always be there. To protect her from harm. But sometimes the thing you need most protection from...is the truth.
"Computer: Encrypt. File code: Dracoverse."
The black glass screen stared back at the Urban Legend. He turned, his cape swirling behind, and let the emptiness flow back into the command room.
Besides, it was Halloween.
on the night of Hallows Eve,
be mindful of the sounds you hear,
and all the sights you see.
Some nights ago, a thousand plus;
five years to the day,
Death cast down its grizzled shroud.
Down here on Brier Lane.
Lit lanterns perfumed the night.
The moon payed homage to Earth.
Just like it'd been a thousand times
or more before my birth.
The sleepy nighttime was alive
with creatures great and small:
Goblins, witches, fairies, queens;
beggars one and all.
Golden brown and sundown red
leaves fluttered `bout the air.
The stars danced to joyful tunes
of youth without a care.
A shrill wind did dagger-stab
to the heart of Brier Lane.
A mortal wound to guarantee
Halloween ne`er come again.
Lost within the wilderness,
`mongst tress and brush and shade
was lost a small young fairy queen:
One Amanda A. McDade.
Wandering far off from the path,
a puppy she did chase.
Now alone in dark she cried
as tears stream'd down her face.
The moon watched on its high perch
as she fumbled `bout her way.
Desp'rately seeking the home she knew
along that Brier Lane.
How she cried out to the air
her wails filled full with fright.
As fate would have it, something heard,
and took pity on her plight.
It emerged in misty dew.
It coiled to her feet.
An ethereal voice, in whispered tones,
to young Amanda greet.
"I've come to help." The mist did say.
"Please don't be afraid."
The mist crept closer around
frightened young McDade.
A from it took, gradual shape,
of a human, young and fair.
A beaut'ous girl, kindly eyes,
soft skin and golden hair.
It took the hand of young McDade.
Her palm felt cold, yet kind.
A ghost? Angel? Wandering soul?
Amanda did not mind.
The moon gazed down from up on high.
The stars, seemed, did give chase.
As Amanda and her ghostly guide
did seek exit from that place.
Leaves crackled along the midnight grass.
The air did stink of hay.
Though both sought to leave the wooded brush
they quickly lost their the way.
"Amanda," said the tiny girl. "And what is your name?"
"I have no name," the mist replied,
"but I like yours anyway."
And so they wandered, hand in hand,
towards the rising moon.
Unaware of Death's looming shroud,
heralding their doom.
Instead of towards that Brier Lane,
deeper did they go.
And from the gray the stars did fall:
It began to snow.
Colder did the night winds blow.
Frost began to creep
upon her gentle cherub cheeks:
She no longer felt her feet.
Her pixie wand slipped from her hand.
She stumbled in the snow.
Scream and cry as the ghost did try,
Amanda would not go.
They say that she thought of home
with her final breath.
And the ghost who sought to bring her home
had only brought her death.
Now the children are locked up tight.
The night no longer theirs.
For only the brave or the dumb
on the streets ever dare.
For on this day each Halloween,
the ghost guilt'ly walks the same.
To find Amanda, and bring her home.
Here...to Brier Lane.
***************
Robin closed the computer file, a grim expression glaring back at him in the monitor. He had told Secret he would always be there. To protect her from harm. But sometimes the thing you need most protection from...is the truth.
"Computer: Encrypt. File code: Dracoverse."
The black glass screen stared back at the Urban Legend. He turned, his cape swirling behind, and let the emptiness flow back into the command room.
Besides, it was Halloween.
