It was the start of the year in our old Celtic lands where we'd be
waiting... In our houses of wattles and clay... The barriers would be
down, you see. Between the real and the unreal. And the dead might be
looking in, to sit by our fires of turf... Halloween. The festival of
Samhain. The last great one took place 3,000 years ago and the hills ran
red... With the blood of animals and children.