Written by Helly Elly
Halloween Night, 11:57 PM
I don’t even know how to begin this.
Maybe with a disclaimer: I’m exhausted. There are plastic bat wings in my coffee, the fog machine ran out of juice five hours ago, and Count Sebastian is snoring in his coffin‑bed like a haunted leaf blower. I should be asleep. I should be peeling off my witch corset and removing the fake blood from my hairline.
But I’m not. Because I’m waiting. Waiting… for her.
The Great Pumpkin Spice
Most people think Halloween is a joke. A one-night sugar binge. A sexy nurse costume and a skeleton doing TikTok dances. Mortals, anyway. For me, Halloween is the high holy day. It’s the one night the veil thins and the Goddess of Fall herself can slip through—The Great Pumpkin Spice.
Count Sebastian rolls his eyes at this. “There is no Great Pumpkin Spice,” he mutters every year like clockwork before trudging off to bed. The kids, bless them, are too busy coming down from their sugar highs to care. But me? I believe. I have to.
Our House on Halloween
The zombies helped with the decorating this year which was a problem when a trick-or-treater encountered a live severed arm. Oops. The fog machines ran dry but that's because Wicked Jack was huffing the stuff. The fifteen‑foot skeleton couldn't contain his excitement and ripped a hole in our garage escaping into the night. Luckily when the police showed up, Sebastian eased their concerns with a little hypnotism and they went on their merry way. 5,364 bags of candy dispensed. Twice as many children delighted and terrified. It was chaos. It was perfect.
I’ve been running on witch's brew and dark magic since dawn. My boots are sticky with melted candy (the demons burned several hundred bags by accident). My eyeliner is dripping down my face even more than usual. And yet there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
The Waiting
It’s quiet now. All the trick‑or‑treaters gone. The animatronics lie silent. The house is dark. Even the werewolves are snoring loudly in their pen. Where is she?
I almost give up. I almost follow Sebastian upstairs to collapse under the covers.
Almost.
The Arrival
The North wind picks up. Leaves scatter. A murder of crows launch skyward in a cacophonous spiral. The porch lights flicker! And the dead fog machines incredibly sputter back to life - belching a thick fog of... cinnamon?
My hair stands on end. Time stops as lightning flashes across the sky and pauses.
And then she’s there. Ten feet tall, glowing orange like the last embers of autumn, her cape of leaves swirling in an unseen breeze. Her eyes shine like pumpkin lanterns. Her crooked wand shimmers with cinnamon light as she sweeps it toward me. The smell of nutmeg and fresh-baked pumpkin pie fills the air.
A Holy Moment
I can’t move. Witch demon or not, I am as white as a ghost in the presence of such power. She beams at me. Wild, warm, motherly. And cackles her glorious cackle. And then, with a flick of her wand, a steaming latte appears in a flash... hovering in the air... floating towards me as if on the wind.
“You kept the faith,” she says without words.
My knees nearly buckle. Words tremble at my lips but fail to materialize.
But her magical elixir reaches my outstretched hand... seemingly sparkling and alive! One sip is all I need. My soul is nourished with her spice.
Her eyes radiate the glory of the season. Her smile envelops my undead heart with the spirit of the Autumnal ancestors. "Happy Halloween," she says.
And with a flash of cinnamon fairy dust and a flurry of autumn leaves...
...she's gone.
Until Next Year
The faithful few know her.
You don’t find The Great Pumpkin Spice.
She finds you—if your soul is pumpkin-pure and your love of Halloween runs deep.
When the leaves spiral,
And the North wind blows,
When the porch lights flicker
To the shrieking of crows,
That's when she'll visit!
The spirited know...
The Great Pumpkin Spice
Ain't no ho ho ho!
xoxo Helly Elly
More from Helly Elly
