Halloween, in Russellville, was every day, all day, a celebration that never ceased, never ebbed, because it was on Halloween two hundred and eighty-eight years ago that the patriots on the horseshoe-shaped island floating off Maryland's coast had vanquished the unholy monsters of Samhain, the traitors to their people. The last day of October consumed every day, from schoolchildren's curriculum to the day's restaurant specials to the governing decisions of the town's mayor and council; Halloween slithered into everything, becoming not just a way of life, but life itself, an all-encompassing institution that hovered above and below, side to side, everywhere always. And like any place where one idea reigns over all others, there were rebels in the midst of Russellville’s October 31 fixation, and they were ready – finally ready – to bring chaos to the town’s tidy lives of Halloween worship.
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