It's Time, Michael

When you finally buy that Myers mask that you've always wanted...

Witchy

Yes kids, you too can own one of the big Halloween three. 
That's right, THREE horrific masks to chose from. 
They're fun.
They're frightening,
and they GLOW in the dark.

Image by Nikita Mikhailov.

The Order Of The Halloween Tree

A photo series tribute to Ray Bradbury's classic tale.

This series comes to an end with Chapter 6:  Ralph Bengstrum 

Ralph stood in his Mummy costume, stunned, watching the last shadows go.

“Is that why I’m dressed like a mummy?” He fingered the bandages. He touched his clay-wrinkled ancient face. “Is that what my part of Halloween is all about?”

“All, boy, all,” murmured Moundshroud. “The Egyptians, why, they built to last. Ten thousand years they planned for. Tombs, boys, tombs. Graves.  Mummies. Bones. Death, death. Death was at the very heart, gizzard, light, soul, and body of their life! Tombs and more tombs with secret passages, so none might be found, so grave robbers could not borrow souls and toys and gold. You are a mummy, boy, because that was how they dressed for Eternity.  Spun up in a cocoon of threads, they hoped to come forth like lovely butterflies in some far dear loving world. Know your cocoon, boy. Touch the strange stuffs.”

 

“Why,” said Ralph the Mummy, blinking at the smoky walls and old hieroglyphics. “Every day was Halloween to them!"

The Order Of The Halloween Tree

A photo series tribute to Ray Bradbury's classic tale.

Chapter 4:  The Devil Boy

"But, let me introduce myself! Moundshroud is the name.  Carapace Clavicle Moundshroud. Does that have a ring, boys? Does it sound for you?”
  
It sounds, the boys thought, oh, oh, it sounds … !

Moundshroud.

“A fine name,” said Mr. Moundshroud, giving it a full sepulchral night-church sound. “And a fine night. And all the deep dark wild long history of Halloween waiting to swallow us whole!”

“Swallow us?”

“Yes!” cried Moundshroud. “Lads, look at yourselves. Why are you, boy, wearing that Skull face? And you, boy, carrying a scythe, and you, lad, made up like a Witch? And you, you, you!” He thrust his bony finger at each mask. “You don’t know, do you? You just put on those faces and old mothball clothes and jump out, but you don’t really know, do you?”

“Well,” said Tom, a mouse behind his skull-white muslin. “Er—no.”

“Yeah,” said the Devil boy. “Come to think of it, Why am I wearing this?” He fingered his cloak and sharp rubber horns and lovely pitchfork.

The Order Of The Halloween Tree

A photo series tribute to Ray Bradbury's classic tale.

Chapter 3:  Henry-Hank Smith

Fires burned all over Europe. At every crossroad and by every haystack dark forms jumped in cats across flames. Cauldrons bubbled. Old hags cursed. Dogs frolicked red-hot coals.

“Witches, witches, everywhere,” said Tom, amazed. “I never knew they were so many!”

“Mobs and multitudes, Tom. Europe was flooded to the dikes. Witches underfoot, under bed, in the cellars and high attics.”

“Boy oh boy,” said Henry-Hank, proud in his Witch costume. “Real witches!

The Order Of The Halloween Tree

A photo series tribute to Ray Bradbury's classic tale.

Chapter 2:  George Smith

In the west, the sun, smothered and dying in clouds, sank. Moundshroud hooted his delight:

“There it goes, boys. The heart, soul, and flesh of Halloween. The Sun! There Osiris is murdered again. There sinks Mithras, the Persian fire. There falls Phoebus Apollo all Grecian light. Sun and flame, boys. Look and blink. Turn that crystal spyglass. Swing it down the Mediterranean Coast a thousand miles. See the Greek Isles?”

“Sure,” said plain George Smith, dressed up as fancy pale ghost. “Cities, towns, streets, houses. People jumping out on porches to bring food!”

“Yes.” Moundshroud beamed. “Their Festival of the Dead: the Feast of Pots. Trick-or-Treat old style. But tricks from the dead if you don’t feed them. So treats are laid out in fine banquets on the sill!”

The Order Of The Halloween Tree

A photo series tribute to Ray Bradbury's classic tale.

Chapter 1:  Tom Skelton

Tom Skelton shivered. Anyone could see that the wind was a special wind this night, and the darkness took on a special feel because it was All Hallows’ Eve. Everything seemed cut from soft black velvet or gold or orange velvet.  Smoke panted up out of a thousand chimneys like the plumes of funeral parades. From kitchen windows drifted two pumpkin smells: gourds being cut, pies being baked.  

The cries behind the locked house doors grew more exasperated as shadows of boys flew by windows. Half-dressed boys, greasepaint on their cheeks; here a hunchback, there a medium-sized giant. Attics were still being rummaged, old locks broken, old steamer chests disemboweled for costumes.

Tom Skelton put on his bones.

He grinned at the spinal cord, the ribcage, the kneecaps stitched white on black cotton.

Lucky! he thought. What a name you got! Tom Skelton. Great for Halloween! Everyone calls you Skeleton! So what do you wear?

Bones.

Recycling

I remember the night I ripped off the horrid pumpkin head that was glued to my face with knox gelatin.  It was euphoric.  My neck was no longer in a vulture position and the air was cool and crisp on my soaking-wet head.  Thankfully I didn't punt the pumpkin out into the street or stomp it into my parents' carpet.  We actually repurposed it into our Pumpkin King prop (you can still kinda see the dent from where the head hole was [and where my miserable face was]).  

Looks much better on him.

Old School

More images here.

Hermit, Waterlogged Variant

Such a neat design from Immortal Masks.  Would look really cool as part of a Witch display.

Click here to see more.

Capture Rabbit

Great photography here.  I laughed when I saw at the top of the IG account the words "Before you ask it’s Not AI."  That stuff seems to be everywhere now.  

More images here.

Halloween In The 90s

Some old photos.

Second one isn't as cringe.  Myers in the middle is actually kind of spooky with all those shadows.

Invisible

There were excited cries of "Hold him!" "Invisible!" and so forth, and a young fellow, a stranger in the place whose name did not come to light, rushed in at once, caught something, missed his hold, and fell over the constable's prostrate body. Half-way across the road a woman screamed as something pushed by her; a dog, kicked apparently, yelped and ran howling into Huxter's yard, and with that the transit of the Invisible Man was accomplished. For a space people stood amazed and gesticulating, and then came panic, and scattered them abroad through the village as a gust scatters dead leaves.

- H. G. Wells

Image by ericcrofton.

The Halloween School Bus Massacre

It happened thirty years ago, on a late Halloween afternoon.  A school bus was on its usual route, but this wasn’t your typical school bus… and they weren’t your typical kids. There were eight of them, and they were… different… troubled… disturbed.  

Now It Was Up To Me Alone

I began walking along the sidewalk, the others following after me.  We crossed Garfield Street and Peabody Street and that brought us to Baline Avenue where we turned left.  I could see Miss Marble's iron fence half a block ahead, but I was careful not to slow my pace.  When we arrived at the fence I walked to the gate with as firm a tread as I could muster and put my hand upon its latch.  The metal was cold and made me think of coffin handles and graveyard diggers' picks.  I pushed it down and the gate swung open with a low, rusty groaning.

Gahan Wilson, Yesterday's Witch

Painting by Stephen James Woods.

The Halloween Man

Oh, Katie believed in him for sure, the Halloween Man.  Him with his long skinny-spindly arms and sharp-toothed mouth and eyes sunk deep in skull sockets like softly glowing embers, charcoal red.  Him with his long coat of tatters, smelling of tombstones and grave dirt. All spider-hairy he was, the Halloween Man.  

“You made him up!” said Jan the first time Katie told her about him.  Jan was nine, a year younger than Katie, but she could run faster and jump higher.  “He isn’t real.”
“Is so,” said Katie. 
“Is not.”
“Is.”
“Isn’t!”

William F. Nolan

Image by Megan Lynch.

Witchcraft And Xenomorphs

Thanks, Chase!

These are wonderful photos.  Your son's costumes are easily the best I've seen for YEARS handing out candy.  The small eye holes in the face hugger made me laugh so loud.  Amazing.  

I'd go ape if I saw a trick-or-treater wearing either of those costumes on Halloween night.  I might even break character from being Michael Myers and high five someone (and I can't express how much I hate high fives).

Carl Jung, Monsters And The Rituals Of Halloween

Click below...

Suffer For Your Art

Death has come to your little town, sheriff.

Turns out Loomis was talking about the guy on the left.

My poor brother in a heavy stalkaround costume I made, probably in the late 90's.  Unlike the way a standard stalkaround costume is constructed, where the "actor's" shoulders hold the weight of the costume, I was in a hurry with this late concept, so his head did the heavy lifting.  Terrible.  

And regarding my Myers costume, I remember being bothered that kids could always see my actual eyes (I hated seeing his eyes in any of the films).  Since I didn't have the blackest nor the Devil's eyes, I put a piece of black mesh on the inside of my Myers mask.  I recall having severe flood lamp glare the entire time I handed out candy.  I could barely see.  

I've mentioned this earlier on the blog somewhere, but my brother would receive "acting" instructions from me throughout the night.  [Annoying] acting instructions.  He would start by standing in our neighbor's driveway.  And then slowly glide up over their lawn towards the approaching kids.  He then was free to roam, staying close to our house.  "Free."

In the photo above, you can even see his eyes looking out of the rib cage.  Note you can't see my eyes in the Myers mask (I should have used more mesh on my brother's costume [though I'm certain that would have resulted in a child being stomped by accident].  Also please note that my brother is wearing black pillowcases over his shoes (impossible to tell from the photo).  That makes me laugh every time.  Totally unnecessary.

It was a really fun night.  And I remember putting the Death costume on at one point and running as fast as I could up the street.  We were all laughing pretty hard.  But it was then that I realized the costume was a horror show inside.  And it was heavy.  Like you hated to even open your mouth from the weight of it resting firmly against the top of your skull.  My poor brother.  

PlaidStallions: Halloween Masks And Costumes

These pages bring back a ton of memories.  More like window shopping back then, as I never ordered a single mask.  I love how some of them look to be disposable after one wear (I'm talking to you, Batman).

Click here for plaidstallions.com

Thanks, Mike!  These were really neat to see again.