Description: Hail to the elder gods, deep of the slumberlands, known to inhabit the psychotics, the children, and the terminally mad.... Blessed are they that inhabit the pit, for it leads to nothing - from which we all came, to which we all march with resolute assurance. Hails to the elder gods, deep of the slumberlands. They are us, we are us, them are them, forever and never. Amen.
Description: He can't see the future - probably doesn't even occur to him to look for it.... We can't help but to try to see the future - to see what may be coming his way. The thing about being a kid is that everything is possible, and nothing is possible..... Everything is simple, and complicated. And a pond is a perfect place to be in that time..... The mountains are just right, the sky is still magical, and the minnows and the loons and the turtles are pretty great neighbors.
Description: In the darkest of woods there are trees that tell a story Of poor, lost souls drifting from their purgatory. Staring owls, or wandering rats. Slithering snakes - and fluttering bats... There are curious spiders - Crawly creepies to find. Shadows and specters that torment your mind. There are graves and remains - ghoulish delights. There are stories that are told, in the pale moonlight.
Description: One tree can stop you dead in your tracks - Take your breath away - Just make you consider your place in the cycle of seasons.... Maybe I've just been living in New England for too long - Maybe it's because In an October baby - Maybe it's because I grew up thinking that Candy Corn was the greatest candy known to mankind.... Who knows?
