Samhain
BEFORE YOU READ THIS STORY, PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING DISCLAIMER: This story is purely a fantasy interpretation of actual traditions. While it is true that the Celts of old celebrated this holiday, there is no evidence or legends of any kind of transformations involved. Now, that being said, a little back story is required. The holiday that we know as Halloween evolved from the christian process of asimilating a culture (in this case the Celts who lived in the British isles during the roman invasion) into its religion. Samhain, (Pronounced sow-een)is the celtic new year, celebrated on October 31st and it was celebrated by building a bonfire and feasting while remembering the ancestors that had died. The celts would dance and sing around the fire, asking thier ancestors for a good harvest in the next year. When the christians came in and converted the Irish and the Scots, the day became known as all Hallows eve, which was a day of rememberence for the dead. When the American colonies were settled, the holiday came with the settlers and the Irish and Scottish settlers revived the old holiday a bit and Halloween was born. The tradtion of trick and treat is a tradition of giving gifts to the spirits of the ancestors as an offering, hence the costumes. Now that you know about the holiday, I hope that you will enjoy the following story. Comments are appreciated as always. * * * "Hey Seamus, what are you going to dress up as for Halloween this year?" Patrick asked, looking at his friend across the table. Seamus looked at him with amusement and shook his head. "Are you serious?" Seamus asked and Patrick nodded. "Honestly, you forget this every year. Samhain? The Celtic new year?" "Oh right," Patrick exclaimed, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I forgot. Sorry." "Its okay old friend," Seamus answered, then a strange smile came to his face. "You can come this year if you want." "Really?" Patrick said and he thought about. His friend was from an old Irish family, one that had never abandoned the old ways. When Catholicism invaded Ireland, his family pretended to convert, secretly keeping the old ways alive, passing them down from generation to generation. Since they had come to America, they had openly celebrated the old Gaelic holidays instead of the ones everyone else did. And they weren't the only ones. Dozens of families had done the same thing, keeping the old Ireland alive. He had been friends with Seamus since before they knew what friends were. He trusted his friend totally, but there was something that he had never quite understood. Every year, when October 31st came around, the old families put together a huge Samhain celebration, but only those members of the families that were thirteen or older could attend. Seamus had gone to his first three years ago and he had returned a changed man. At first, it was nothing too noticeable. A more thoughtful demeanor showed up in him, causing him to lapse into brooding silences sometimes. Gradually, he had changed more and more until Patrick almost didn't recognize the boy he had once been. When he had asked Seamus what had happened at the ceremony, his old friend had shaken his head and said that all he could say was that it was a life changing experience. The idea of attending a ceremony like that was tantalizing, but he didn't know if it was right. His family had Irish blood too, but it was very diluted. "I don't know, let me think about it." "I already cleared it with my parents. You know enough to come along this year." Seamus answered and Patrick was about to reply when his attention was suddenly captured by something over his friend's shoulder. It was a girl, a girl their age. Her name was Kristen O'Leary and she was gorgeous. They had been in the same classes every year of school and Patrick had wanted to go out with her ever since he had began to notice girls in a romantic fashion. But she had never seemed to want romantic ties with him or anyone for that matter. Her beauty was breathtaking, with her beautiful green eyes and flaming red hair, and there were many whispers among the jocks (whom every girl seemed to want to be with), that she was a lesbian, but Patrick got the feeling that she just wasn't interested. But as he watched her, something suddenly occurred to him. "I wonder why I don't ever see her in Halloween costumes." He said and Seamus turned to look at her. When he turned back, he smiled. "Its because she is at the Samhain celebration." He said and Patrick stared at Seamus. "Every year." "Don't joke man. I swear if you are joking..." He stated, glaring at Seamus and shaking his finger at him. "Her family are all good Irish folk from the old sod." Seamus said with a laugh. "They never miss it. In fact, she has been asking why you don't come to the celebrations. She knows you have Irish blood in you, and she wants you to share in our heritage." "Maybe I will come then, just to talk to her." Patrick said, thinking very seriously about it, his resistance wavering. "And maybe I will finally get to ask her out." "Well, think hard." Seamus said, picking up his backpack to go. Just as he was about to walk away, he turned back and leaned in towards his friend. "Oh, and I wouldn't worry. She's straight." "What? How could you possibly know that is true?" Patrick asked, looking totally taken aback. "She doesn't date anybody, including you." "I swear upon my green Irish soul that it is true." Seamus said. "But before you ask, I cannot say why." With that, the red-haired boy walked away, headed for trig class. Patrick was left sitting on the bench, wondering what he was going to do. He had always liked Halloween, the decorating, the costumes, the trick or treating. But lately, he had begun to feel that the holiday was being too commercialized. He got the feeling that it was just one more excuse for companies to make money, for stores to have sales and for people to act silly. He shook his head and picked up his backpack. He was due in biology and his teacher did not allow people to be late. While he headed for biology class, he began to wonder what happened at the Samhain celebration that made it so memorable. He knew, from what his friend had told him, that Samhain was the night that the ancient Celts remembered those who had died before and celebrated the life that the new year brought. But aside from that, he knew virtually nothing about the holiday. While his teacher droned on and on about cell structure, a subject that he had known all about since he began school, he allowed his mind to drift. He found himself thinking about his ancestry. He knew that his grandfather was full blood Irish, but aside from that, he didn't know anything about him, not even where his family came from in Ireland. He was so deep in thought that it took him a few moments to notice when class had ended and he left the school, headed for home. It was a brisk October day and he breathed in deeply, enjoying the crisp autumn air. The community he belonged to was one that was deep in the mountains, and it was unique because it contained a large concentration of people of Irish decent. St. Patrick's day was always a hoot around the town. As he walked home from school, he smiled at the beauty of the mountains. The aspen groves that dotted the hill sides were still golden, despite the thin layer of snow fall that hid the ground. He walked along the road towards his house with ease, his spirits lifting steadily. By the time he reached his front walk, he felt wonderful. But, as he was walking up the walk towards the house, he happened to look down and he noticed something odd. He knelt and looked at it closer. Growing among the grass of his front lawn were small plants. Their shape was unmistakable, though he had never heard of it growing at this altitude. Dotting the lawn, among the blades of grass, were hundreds of bright green shamrocks. Taking this as a sign, he walked into the house, his decision made. "Hi mom." He said, as he walked into the house. His mother had aubern hair just beginning to grey with age and it was from her side of the family that the Irish blood stemmed. "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure honey, what's on your mind?" She asked, chopping into an onion with her kitchen knife. "I wanted to ask about grandpa." He said and she looked up at him in surprise. Her father had died when Patrick was only four years old, so he hadn't gotten to know him. "Where in Ireland was he from? And what was his real last name?" "He was from a small town in county Cork." She answered. "His Irish name was McTherinfor. Why the sudden interest?" "Well, Seamus invited me to the Samhain party this Saturday and I want to go." He said. "I wanted to know about my Irish ancestry before I just showed up." "You are going to the Samhain celebration instead of going to a Halloween party?" His mother asked, surprised enough to put down the knife. "I thought that Halloween was your favorite holiday." "It was; I just want to do something different this year." He answered, headed out of the kitchen to go up to his room. "I really want to see what is worth missing Halloween for." "Well have fun dear." His mother answered and he nodded, headed for the stairs. When he got to his room, he dropped his stuff and signed on to his Trillian account. Seamus was online as usual and he sent an IM to him, telling him that he was coming. As he chatted with his friend, he looked out on the Shamrock filled lawn and smiled. He had a feeling this was going to be fun... *** The 31st dawned clear and cold and Patrick grinned to himself. Halloween came on a Saturday this year, and he had met up with Seamus in the hours before dawn. Now, they were headed for a secluded valley where the celebration would take place. They had driven up a rarely used road and then parked in a turn-around and began to hike. Now, as dawn broke, the group paused on top of a ridge for breakfast. The autumn air was clear at this altitude and he devoured the sandwich he had packed hungrily. Nothing compared to an autumn dawn in the mountains. When he had finished eating, he turned to his friend and spoke. "So, what does this celebration involve?" He asked. Seamus smiled. "Feasting, dancing, music and much, much more." Hs friend answered around a mouthful of corned beef. "I don't want to ruin the surprise." "Alright, alright, I guess I will find out when the time comes." He said. When breakfast was over, the group walked off along the ridge once more. By ten in the morning, the family crested the last ridge and entered a still green-filled valley. A small ranch occupied the valley floor and Patrick could see hundreds of people gathering down there. The family descended a short distance into the valley before they turned off the trail and into a patch of woods. "May I ask what we are doing?" Patrick asked the family stopped in a seemingly random grove of trees. "We have to be in ancient garb to join in the festivities." Seamus explained, taking off his pack and rummaging around in it for clothing. He came out with two pairs of traditionally woven wool trousers and matching shirts. Handing one of these to Patrick, he proceeded to strip down. Shrugging, Patrick followed suit, donning the rough clothing. When the family was at last properly attired, they continued their journey to the ranch. When they got there, they were greeted warmly by another family of Scottish descent, dressed in kilts and shirts that were similar to the ones they wore. "And who is this?" Asked the leader of the family, a big grey haired man with an extravagant mustache. He was looked appraisingly at Patrick and the boy felt slightly uncomfortable in the strange man's gaze. "A friend of Irish descendent." Answered Seamus' father. The man smiled and offered him his hand. "Name's William Dundee." He said, a thick Scottish brogue coloring his words. Patrick took his hand and shook it. "Patrick McTherinfor." He answered, finding it satisfying to use his Irish family name at last. "McTherinfor?" the man asked and when Patrick nodded, he smiled. "Then you and I are related laddie. My cousins are McTherinfors. Welcome to my ranch Patrick." "Thank you." He answered and Seamus led him over to a tent where they began to help the other people set things up for the celebration. During the course of the day, Patrick often saw Kristen working with the other women but he never had a chance to talk to her. Every time he saw her, he would stop and stare because she was even more beautiful that day than she ever had been before; her simple cotton dress seeming to focus his gaze on her beautiful face instead of taking away from it. He often had to be reminded to get back to work. But finally, as the day drew to a close, the celebration was ready. A huge pyramid of dry wood sat in the middle of the clear space where the festival would begin, awaiting the touch of the fire that would ignite it. Smaller fires had been built seemingly at random around the clearing and whole pigs and sheep as well as sides of beef were ready to be placed over them for roasting. Bread had been laid out on tables, as had kegs of Irish ale and fine Irish whiskey. But strangest of all to him, were clay bowls of ancient design that had had a plant ground into them, along with water and oil, making a light blue paste. They had been set out carefully, in preparation for something he could not fathom. At long last, with the sun sinking below the horizon, the cooking fires were lit and the people gathered around the central fire. Patrick eagerly sat with Seamus as the food began to cook, his stomach growling hungrily. When the meat at last was finished roasting, the festival began. Musicians struck up their instruments and people danced by the dozens, their feet flying in the traditional step dance. Patrick recognized several tunes and, though he wanted to ask Kristen if she would dance with him, he could never work up the courage to do so. So, he contented himself by watching her dance. She was quite graceful, her body flowing through the motions as if she was made of water and not flesh. He felt strangely was pleased when he noticed that she didn't dance with anyone in particular. As the dancing continued, the air began to crackle with a kind of excited energy, the kind that only came at Irish festivals when the strains of music soared into the air. Patrick felt moved along with the flow of the music and, as the true night came on and the full moon rose, it seemed to Patrick that nothing truly memorable had happened yet. People joyously dug into the food and ale, even the young men and woman who normally wouldn't have been allowed to drink. But Patrick began to notice that something strange was happening. In the moonlight and the dancing firelight, the people around him were beginning to look different. Even Seamus, his oldest friend, was looking strange. His features seemed to be getting more and more bestial in the pale light. His body seemed to be filling out while Patrick watched, but he just figured it was a factor of the ale he had consumed. Then, all at once, after a few hours, everything went quiet in the clearing. The musicians went still, setting their instruments aside. The dancers stopped dancing and the energy in the air was almost palpable as the revelers gathered around the still unlit bonfire. The cooking fires had died down to embers and, by that faint red light, a procession of old men and women walked forward into the center of the clearing, surrounding the pyramid of wood. The leader of the procession had a lit torch in hand and each that followed had what looked like ceramic jugs in their hands. Patrick stood mesmerized like the rest of the revelers as the elders pored what looked like oil onto the central bonfire. The faint, sweet scent of a dozen herbs rose in the air and he felt something inside him rising in anticipation of something, like a racehorse at the starting gate. Then, the old man with the torch began to speak in a language that Patrick recognized as Gaelic, a language that he did not speak, but he somehow understood what was being said. "On this night, for countless generations," The old man began, his voice still strong despite his age. "We have gathered to celebrate the lives that have passed before us and the lives that have yet to live." He paused in his speaking and the other elders came around the clearing to each person as they stood around the central bonfire, carrying the clay bowls with the blue paste. Each of the men took off their shirts, allowing the male elders to paint symbols onto their bodies with the paste. The women were doing a similar thing, but Patrick didn't even think to look. When the men came to where Seamus and Patrick stood, Seamus took off his shirt swiftly, despite the bitter cold of the night. Patrick looked at him in shock and spoke. "Seamus, what are you doing, aren't you cold?" He asked. Seamus looked at him with a strange expression on his altered face and spoke while the old man brushed the paste in twisting Gaelic patterns on his bare chest and back, ending with a twisting Gaelic knot on his forehead. "Oh, grow a pair." He said, and Patrick noticed for the first time that his friend's voice had changed as well. It was deeper and it had a strange growl to it. Then the old man turned to him and he shrugged, taking off his shirt as well. When he did so and the old man began to brush the paste onto his skin, he noticed that he too had changed. His body seemed to have grown, becoming more muscular and, strangely enough, more hairy. But, his attention was grabbed by something else a moment later. Everywhere the paste had been dabbed had started to tingle. The tingling was spreading rapidly and he began to notice that his sense of things was becoming sharpened in its wake. The breathing of every person in the circle filled his ears, mixed with the crackling of the dying fires. The scents of burnt wood, pine trees, and food filled every breath and the night air, though still cold, seemed to be growing warmer all the time. Finally, when the elders had finished marking the people, the old man in the center of the clearing spoke again. Though it seemed like a long time had passed since the old man with the lit torch had begun speaking, Patrick couldn't quite remember the passage of time. The old man began to speak once more in Gaelic and he found that though he had memories of the time between the man's words, it seemed that no time had passed at all. "Though generations have passed, and we are far from the emerald fields of Erin, let the spirits of our ancestors come forth, guided by the light of our fire." With that, the old man touched the torch to the oil soaked wood. The bonfire was instantly alight and a fragrant smoke filled the air like mist. The scent of the smoke did something to Patrick that he did not expect, nor would be able to adequately describe later. He felt the tingling sensation of the paint on his skin intensify, and his head began to spin. He could hear endless voices among the night breezes and only some were those of the revelers. Finally, his vision stopped spinning and he saw a man formed all out of smoke standing before him. It took Patrick a moment, but he suddenly realized he knew who it was. It was a much younger version of the grandfather he had known when he was little. "It pleases my heart to know that you have chosen to follow your Irish blood, Patrick." The spirit said and Patrick smiled, the memories of that voice coming back to him out of the depths of his memory. "You have made me very proud. Listen well to me for a moment. The blood of all Celts pulses with magic. So has it been since we became who we are. This night, the magic comes out and we return to that which created us and that which we honor. Do not fight it, allow it to guide you. I must go now, for I can only remain a few minutes. But, do one thing for an old man. Give this to my daughter." The spirit held out a medallion emblazoned with the Celtic cross. The cross had once been a symbol of the sun god, the light of hope to the Celts, but Christianity had perverted it to mean worship of their god. Patrick reached out and took the medallion. In a moment, the spirit had gone and Patrick was alone. But he still clasped the medallion in his hand. He was so entranced by the spirit's gift that it took him a moment to realize that his hand was not a human hand any longer. It had suddenly become covered in brownish fur, like his hair. He looked at himself with growing amazement and found that the places on his body where the paste had been spread were glowing brightly, the fur there colored blue. He looked down into the glass he had been using and found a wolf's face staring back up at him from the beer. He smiled to himself and downed the ale all in one gulp. The smoke was flowing upward now, revealing the crowd around the fire and he looked over at his old friend to see if Seamus had noticed the change that had come over him. But Seamus wasn't standing there. In his place was a powerfully built tiger. He had never seen the like of the creature before him, and yet, the eyes were the familiar green of his friend. "I told you my friend." The tiger stated, smiling at him. "A life changing experience. I hope you understand now why I said that I couldn't tell you. Besides, would you even have believed it if I had told you?" "I doubt it." Patrick replied and he realized that his voice was a deep, heavy growl. He smiled in return and looked back at the old man who still stood in the middle of the clearing. But, he was not an old man any longer, instead he was a old wolf, his black fur tipped with white in his old age. "Now, let us celebrate the lives yet to come." The old man said and Patrick was surprised to see the people pairing off. Wives and husbands walked away, hand in hand, leaving those still single to find a pair. But, as he looked around the clearing for anyone interesting, he found his eyes drawn to a pair of brilliant emerald eyes possessed by a red furred wolf female who was walking towards him from the other side of the circle. Seamus laid a heavy paw on his friend's shoulder and spoke. "Go for it my friend." He said and took the hand of a beautiful Snow Leopard who had come up beside him. "She has been waiting patently for you for three years, don't keep her waiting any longer." With that, the feline pair turned away and walked off. Patrick turned back towards the red wolf coming towards him and he knew without being told that she was Kristen, the girl he had wanted to go out with for years. The knowledge that she had been waiting for him to come to the celebration filled him with a feeling as if he had just won the lottery jackpot. All fear left him as she slowly walked towards him, taking his hand in hers. Her touch sent shivers through him and he opened his mouth to speak but she put one finger to his lips. "No talking," Kristen said, and he closed his mouth. The female wolf kissed him gently on the cheek and spoke once more. "Just let me lead for now." Patrick smiled and let her lead him off into the woods. When they were beneath the canopy of leaves, Kristen smiled and kissed him once more, this time full on the lips. "Now, come with me lover boy and just let go of the world you know." Patrick did so, letting the last bit of his awareness go and abandoned himself to the moment. The pair walked down the valley until they could no longer see the light of the burning bonfire and still they walked. Just as Patrick was beginning to wonder where they were going, Kristen stopped. The pair stood in a clearing between two stands of aspen. Deep green grass covered the ground and he smiled. This spot was perfect. He didn't care how he knew that, he just knew. In moments, he felt his trousers being tugged down from behind and he stepped out of them before turning around. Kristen stood there in the dappled moonlight, a desirous look on her face. He obligingly reached out and slipped the cotton dress off her shoulders and slid it to the ground, revealing to the moon and starlight the glowing Gaelic designs on her fur. The red furred wolf stepped out of the puddle her dress made in the moonlight and he admired her naked form. For years, he had spent many an hour undressing her in his mind, but this blew all those images out of the water. This form of her, the cross of a wolf and a human, was more beautiful and downright sexy than any of his fantasies had been. This bestial shape made her look more primal, more raw than any human could look and that was very attractive to him. Patrick walked forward towards her with slow steps and she waited patently for him, not in any hurry. When he was close enough, he drew her into a passionate kiss, their tongues twining in their mouths. In that moment, all sounds save that of his chosen mate left his world. While they kissed again and again, he caressed her in the moonlight, luxuriating in the warmth of her closeness and the feel of her soft fur. After a few moments, he felt a soft hand caress his rock hard wolfhood and he kissed her all the more passionately as she stroked him lightly. His own hand traced its way down her back and along her hip until he felt the foreign and yet strangely familiar wet warmth of her crevice. As his fingers leisurely explored her, he heard a small gasp leave her lips, one that sounded like half animal growl and half human moan. After a silent eternity of foreplay, Patrick knew instantly what he was to do next. Softly, he began to tilt her back and she went willingly, trusting his now powerful arms to hold her safely. After a moment, he lay her down in the soft, fragrant grass and, as the pale full moon draped her in gossamer moonshadow, he felt a strange feeling well inside him. This was a fantasy he had entertained again and again in his mind, playing out for him like a dream. The feeling inside was a giddy sort of anticipation and a brief spike of fear that this was a dream. But, as he lowered himself so he was lying above her and the head of his penis touched the wet fur of her nether region, all fear left him. If it was a dream, so be it, he would enjoy it. With a firm motion, he slid his head inside her and she let out an impassioned gasp, her hips bucking slightly. He smiled and continued to slide forward, the pleasure increasing as he penetrated further inside her. Finally, he felt his progress impeded, though he sensed that his shaft wasn't fully inside her yet. A brief glance down revealed a large bulge at the base of his dick that hadn't been there before. It didn't matter though. As he paused, Kristen's arms encircled his chest and drew him down to her, pressing their bodies together. Their lips met and he began to thrust on instinct, slowly pulling out of her before pushing back in swiftly. With each slow thrust, his mate thrust back up into him, letting out a gasp or moan with every one, their sounds growing louder as their passions built. As the sex continued, he began to speed up his thrusts, his body demanding more force with the promise of greater and greater pleasure. Kristen didn't seem to mind, matching his force with her own. Soon, the bulge that had impeded progress was slapping at her soaking entrance. He felt a primal urge to get it into her and he looked at his lover for a moment. Her emerald eyes glowed with pleasure and she gave a very slight nod. Pausing in his rhythm for a moment, he took a breath of sweet night air and then thrust his hardest into her. For a brief instant, her tight passage resisted the knot, then, with a jerk, it slid inside. Patrick felt Kristen's jaws close on his shoulder as a lance of pain mixed with incredible pleasure washed through her. After a moment's hesitation, he began to thrust once more, his speed faster than it had been before as his body put everything into its virtuoso performance. For her part, Kristen was nothing short of amazing as she matched him in speed and vigor. The feelings of incredible pleasure surging through them were matched for a brief moment, then the two wolves came. Patrick felt his cock begin to pulse and he howled as his seed shot into his mate. Kristen's eyes squeezed shut with her own climax at the same time and her howl of ecstasy joined his. Their howls split the silence of the night and Patrick thought their echoes were very eerie and beautiful as they came back to his ears. In the after math of the peak, bright spots danced before Patrick's vision as his body began to settle down. After a moment, the pair relaxed and Patrick settled into the arms of his love, holding her close. In that moment, he experienced everything in perfect clarity. The fur of his mate in his hands was so soft he would have sworn it was made of silk. The night air was crisp and cool and filled with the scent of sweet grass and the musky scent of their love. The breathing of his love in his ears and the beat of his own heart sounded perfectly clear to his ears. He smiled. This was a perfect ending to a wonderful day. After fifteen minutes of laying joined, he pulled his shaft out of his love, the knot having receded enough for her to release him. After he pulled out, the young lovers lay together beneath the moon, its pale light illuminating them as their limbs intertwined in the grass. Patrick's smile did not fade as he drifted off into sleep in the arms of his love. His last thought before he descended into the realm of dreams was that at last, he knew what was worth missing Halloween for. *** A thin shaft of November sunlight lit upon Patrick's face and he stirred slowly from sleep. He yawned widely and opened his human eyes to find that the human girl that he had wanted for so long lay in his arms, totally naked, her head pillowed on his chest. He shook his head slightly and looked at himself. His body was human again and the light blue body paint had been smeared with sweat. Memories of the night before flooded into him once more. 'Was it all a dream then?' he thought, looking around at the crushed grass that surrounded them. The physical signs of the night were still there. But the wolfish body he had had during the night was not. While Patrick pondered this, Kristen woke up with a smile and gave him a kiss on the lips. He returned the kiss and the pair released each other at last, rolling to the side slightly. When Patrick sat up, his head spun and he put a hand to his head. He knew that he hadn't been himself the night before. Then, as his lover got to her feet and went to pick up her dress, a realization came to him. He had had sex with the most desirable woman he had ever met. Smiling to himself, he managed to haul himself to his feet. That was an experience he would cherish for the rest of his life, he was sure. When he had retrieved his clothing, he allowed Kristen to lead him to the nearby mountain river. It was fed from the glacier nearby and it was perhaps the freshest water in the area. The pair took a dip in the cold stream, washing the blue paint from their bodies. After due reflection and thought, Patrick decided that the whole wolfish body thing and the spirits of the dead coming back to life had just been a dream, a hallucination at worst. Nodding to himself at this decision, he walked from the stream and clothed himself in the traditional Irish clothing he had been wearing the day before. Kristen joined him and the lovers made their way back to the ranch to see about breakfast. But, as they walked, Patrick stuck his hand into his pocket and felt his fingers close around something hard. Thinking it a stone or some such, he brought it out into the light. A moment later, he stopped short. It was the cross medallion that his grandfather's spirit had given him. And, as he brushed it with his thumb, he knew suddenly that the dream had been real. Tucking the medallion back into his pocket thoughtfully, he smiled. His love clasped his other hand in hers and he squeezed it gently. Real or not, he would never forget that night. His first night of Samhain... The End. * * *
One last detail for me to explain, I didn't want to spoil it above. The blue paint that I described is modeled off of woad, a hallunciningenic plant that Celt warriors painted themselves with before battle. That is the main reason they were so feared in the ancient times. I hope you enjoyed this little story. Thanks for reading.