Yesterday I walked into the past and took a look around, saw everything I remembered from masks to costumes to props, things people use to expose their true selves. I hadn't been in this store for at least fifteen years, but I saw it from the road and decided that I had to go inside. Four times the size of the one I remembered, it had changed locations, but not mood. It was creepy as all get-out then, creepy as all get-out now. My sister and I perused the various rooms. You could be anything, someone sexy or scary, depending on your needs or someone else's. Why, as a friend once wrote to me, limit yourself to one identity?
As for the store in the past, I loved going in there as a child every Halloween with my friend Melissa and her mother. Her mother bought us something we wanted each Halloween, and we'd spend hours deciding what that thing would be. My favorite was a mask of a hanged man -- we saw it one year, decided it was too scary, and then came back the next year, ready to get it. The mask looked so real that it still scares me to think of it. If you put it on, you'd looked as if you hanged yourself, right down to the realistic noose and rope burns. Melissa and I both wore it from time to time and agreed that it was hard to not feel the rope around your neck for a long time after removing it.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Myths have staying power." Ray Bradbury
Drinking novel suggestion: Mysterious Skin Scott Heim
Benedictions and Maledictions
Fifteen days until The Sopranos airs!