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It is 3:00 a.m. on Día de Todos los Santos (All Saints' Day), and la Abuela is quietly sitting in her armchair, completely absorbed in her
yearly routine of counting out those small seed-like capsules (cápsulas fulminantes). She acts coquetamente (coquettishly), but everyone the
and she receives absolutely no rest for it. Crucially, her deep awareness and connection to this
midnight threshold is being processed directly through the wild cats (gatos salvajes)
Several ceremonial dolls live near the fire place mantle. Upon returning from trick or treating for Unicef,
the children change into their witching attire the dolls are no longer seated upon their shelf.
As the children begin to search for the dolls, little doll footprints are left in fairy dust leading to the big tree
someone has placed a noose around each dolls neck and each doll hangs from the big branch of the old tree.
Grandma’s not here right now,” a chill whisper brushed against the children’s ears.
sudden gust twisted into a tight funnel, driving its tip straight down into a cup of hot apple cider until the cider whipped violently
The wind died as abruptly as it began. Before them, the dark shadow thrown from the solar black cat light began to stretch,
lengthen, and morph into a majestic, living black cat—the true carrier of the night's magic.
A rogue black cloud swept across the night sky, blotting out the giant, bloated yellow moon. Instant sheets of lightning split the air,
unleashing a torrential downpour squarely over the gathered guests.
Through the deluge, the purple flame torches held their ground, casting an unearthly glow along the path as people scrambled to escape
By 9:00 PM, an opera aria boomed from the darkness. Thick crimson drops pooled beneath the twelve flickering torches
staining the mud and catching the footprints of the vanished dolls fleeing up the trunk of the old sycamore.
Large drops of thick red substance appeared in small puddles beneath the circle of the 12 solar spider lily lights.
The unearthly purple petals cast shadows that transformed the mud into slick black liquid along the path.
Footprints of the vanished dolls running appeared up and down the trunks of the great sycamore and across the sidewalk
The music grew greater, the trombone striking tension into the cool night air as guests furiously dried the bloody substance from their shoe
Suddenly, all twelve spider lily lights blackened simultaneously. A great strike of lightning belted from the sky, freezing the guests
in absolute darkness, staring at one another. In the immediate aftermath, the soft purple grove
in absolute darkness, staring at one another. In the immediate aftermath, the soft purple grove
The annual chant around the sycamore tree begins. The guests gather, holding hands and stretching arms until the circle is unbroken.
A grandmother from another part of the neighborhood joined for the tenth year, and this year she held the most high holler.
She yelled, and hollered at the tree, where the meteor lights sent a bewildering purple glow all around the trunk.
The Shaper of Light—came forth from the purple hues, raising one arm as the chanting intensified.
Shadows of apples began to fall from the tree.
The sound of the pounding apples overtook Grandma's holler. The lights alone spoke the only truth: the shaper’s arm lifted
Another burial plot in the family cemetery gave way as a great-great-great-grandfather’s skeleton clawed dirt from its ribs to rise for the
A series of skeletal hands broke through the earth, holding amber candles that burned clean through sheets of sudden rain and driving sleet
A series of skeletal hands broke through the earth, holding amber candles that burned clean through sheets of sudden rain and driving sleet
he sky darkened with golden rods of dark yellow, sending an evil blessing of well-lit paths and useful bones
stranger things happened as skulls appeared glowing in the night with bloody daggers piercing through all four and five beginning w/ corpus
plant three to six of the dagger skull lights along the northwestern most corner of your entire space and chant there times, "Yes, Grandma"
chant the words, "I'm dagger happy, thrill me."
By the time the sun hinted at rising, three neighbors from the east arrived at Grandma’s grounds, each carrying an offering older than memor
1. One brought incense, thick and resinous, the kind that clung to the air like ancestral breath.
Another carried an end‑of‑life caterpillar, its body swollen with fully extended cordyceps cords, each one twitching with premature hunger.
The third neighbor brought several creatures, chosen not for their bodies but for the spells they could hold.The morning passed quickly, as
Spells were cast
Enchantments flared
Life came forth and died off in the same breath.The ground itself seemed to pulse — birthing, ending, birthing again
as though the soil remembered every ritual from the last ten thousand years.
Visitors from the afterlife paraded through the yard, drifting in long, shimmering lines.
Some wore the shapes they had in life.
Others appeared only as silhouettes, 10. or as flickers of rusty light,
or as shadows shaped like branches from the sycamore tree.
They came because this was the ten‑thousandth year of Grandma’s ritual
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