Proper Substitute for a Pagan Holiday
Gravelight Press: Halloween Party 2023, USA:, 1731 - Manhattan Island, New York Colony
Part One: A Mission Revealed
Our schooner had moored at West Dock, where during the night it was engulfed by autumn’s chill slithering down North River from its birth in the Iroquoian wilderness. The cold damp intruded into the vessel’s deepest compartments, perchance causing the uncontrolled trembling that chased sleep from my hammock. Ill humors matured into a grim, foreboding sense, serving to remind me of my childhood.
The mood intensified next while on the forecastle attending my duties, I entered the log’s date. It seized my attention.
October 31, 1731
The proper script glared at me as its ink fixed. Up and away from the bill of lading my quill jerked, as if under a higher power.
All Hallows Eve.
Memories stirred of an earlier life, when I wore a face afraid to smile and mouthed a voice afraid to laugh or sing. It was forbidden to carve turnips on Hallowe’en.
“WE ARE NOT PAGAN!”
Perhaps the river’s crawling damp divinely intervened to waken childhood horrors and propel the witch into my notice. Thus, I praise God for lifting my head at that instance and moving my eyes across the dock to a woman trampling upon freshly sawn planks of a newly erected sidewalk, appearing as if the green wood had been purposely fitted to elevate her from Broad Street’s grime of rotting fish smell. Another coincidence? Perhaps again, but upon reflection, it truly was God’s hand, aiding me by setting her apart from the surroundings.