The legend of Decimus Croome seemed to expand like a parasitic beast feeding off the lifeblood of the town’s children.

Pish-posh and poppycock!!" Croome grumbled.

Halloween creatures both friendly & gruesome peered out of the rustling leaves.

He hated autumn, he hated Halloween and he despised uncooperative household fixtures.

A pumpkin lives but once a year
when someone sets its soul afire
and on that night it stirs up fear
until its flame is snuffed.
But e'en one night of eerie light is fright enough.

Tis the night—the night
Of the grave's delight,
And the warlocks are at their play;
Ye think that without,
The wild winds shout,
But no, it is they—it is they!