All Hallows Eve is upon us...Inflatable black cats and wart-nosed witches seem to sprout overnight in neighbors' gardens. Silken cobwebs hang from doorways, rubber bats bob beneath porch railings; cheesecloth ghosts hover in tree branches, and leering pumpkins lurk on doorsteps...Such are the modern-day trappings of Halloween, sure to fill a young child's heart with excitement and fear.
Not so for us older folks; thankfully we have moved on. We have put our old childhood fears behind us, and new fears have taken their place...
Old dolls are my own personal phobia--mostly the discarded ones, the ragged and dirty, the survivors of fire and flood...
Dolls that once were cherished, only to be cast aside and callously forgotten, now unwanted and unloved. Always they seem to be waiting, watching... with unspoken accusations, and silent condemnation...
I cannot bear their icy stares-- their stony faces, their unseeing eyes full of reproach...
I shudder and quickly walk past, knowing they will haunt my dreams...
*****
Siobhan's biggest phobia is VooDoo, and anyone that practices it. Laugh if you will, but I can see her point. There is something deeply frightening in their primal chanting, the frenzied swaying as they dance in the firelight's shadows...the horror of animal sacrifices, the snakes, the skulls, the blood...Malevolence seems to radiate from the crowd. You can smell your own fear...
VooDoo has long been practiced in The French Quarter of New Orleans, as well as in the older sections of Charleston, where Siobhan and I often visit. There it is still very much feared and respected. (And in Siobhan's case, avoided...)
Two hundred years ago, infamous VooDoo Queen Marie Laveau died and was buried in New Orleans' oldest cemetery; people there still leave offerings by her crumbling crypt, hoping to appease her spirit...
On a lonely a Charleston backstreet you will find a shabby storefront touting "VooDoo Shoppe"; a macabre display of wares graces its window. The scowling proprietress watches you through the glass with obvious disdain... With her head down, Siobhan hurries past the door. Would YOU dare to go in?
*****
One phobia that Siobhan and I share is a fear of abandoned cemeteries--particularly the old ones that are overgrown with weeds, their ancient tombstones tilting and awry...
Tree roots twist among the graves, clawing and grasping as they try to pull everything underground...
A shroud of mist seems to cling to old graveyards, along with a damp, dank smell...
Crumbling statues seem to cry tears of rain...
Here we walk with quickened steps, our eyes wide and our hearts racing. Siobhan and I speak in hushed voices now, barely resisting the urge to run. Silently we pass between the neglected graves, the weathered tombstones; the air itself is heavy with their desolation. We do not linger here...
*****
When folks are asked "What puts fear in your heart?", most times they reply with a flippant answer. Like "taxes". Or "my wife's mother". Or "my daughter's cell phone bill". These people laugh it off rather than admit to their fear. But we all have something we're truly afraid of--something that without fail causes a sharp intake of breath, a rapid heartbeat, a rush of adrenaline and an irrepressible urge to flee...Whether we acknowledge it or not, it's always out there. Waiting. In the dark.
Happy Halloween.
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