#pitchingitfabulously

PLEASE.

     “    Well hello to you too.”

What are you doing here?

Yes.

I thought we had a connection.

Nobody that behind spooky smiling masks were hidden more than secular and antient spirits of the things alive creatures were afraid the most. The feast as the ritual worship and exaltation appeared among people as the way to speak to the powers, which were must more higher, severe and drastic. Those powers, which held the secrets of universe, entity and human’s core… In centuries, people were changing and so, changed their beliefs. They wished Halloween to be nothing more than just loud parties, all richness of time, the power and fear of Sabbaths was almost forgotten, but not dead. The darkness filled with madness of pitch-dark minds had its native home in the graceful long bony fingers of the Halloween King, who ruled the evil spirits of all kinds and who, time by time, liked to create something new.The fear as many-faced it can be, is not the emotion, but strong feeling, which can merge with other feelings, cooperating with them. The fear could bring joy, how often happened on Halloween, the fear can cause madness, the fear can bring wars and the fear can bring deaths. It isn’t the only strongest emotion, but it is a pure art to let fright change it forms, let it become anything. Not only the shadows of heavy smoke, however something more impressive and wicked, as well as bright, vivid and unrepeatable. “The guests on the feasts used to be welcomed…”, Skellington noted. Rentribution? Indeed. The shadows could whisper how naive they all were, when they only had a mind to enter the borderline of their reality and the madness of somebody else. But what happened to those naive souls that was an impressive sight of shades, which hovered behind Skellington’s bag, creating a black plume what merged with the darkness of Wicked Wonderland he ruled. Halloween Town was the beating heart of this world. Mighty and amazing, filled with lights, but defended by the most horrible and bloody sights, which can visit only the most bad sore mind. “…we prefer to chop their heads and put them on iron spears. To let them enjoy the sight,” the demon continued so calmly, even with the note of boredom.“But I think you don’t need such amphitheater to relish the view,” he said, lowering his eye-lids, which brought quite a sly expression on his skull.“If there’s no matter for visit, I suggest you to find it,” Jack added, while one of his shades nestled on his black cylinder, hissing quite melodically and even pleasantly.

Go home, Pitch.

I’m not little.