Lord Samhain And Other Tales

By Varden M Frias

A timeless, astral entity has roamed Earth in search of redemption. Another timeless, astral entity seeks nourishment. When the two collide, the veil between the living and the dead bursts open and chaos ensues. Follow as the chaos effects the normal, everyday people of America's Halloween birthplace: Anoka, Minnesota! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Varden M Frias
• Release date: Oct 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386106470

Book preview

Varden M Frias

Lord Samhain: And Other Halloween Tales

Copyright © Varden M Frias, 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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For Melanie and cousin Paul, two souls burning with a love of Halloween as fiery as mine.

Close your eyes and remember.

Remember the cinnamon smell of dry leaves and the crunch of their delicate spines beneath your feet.

Remember Samhain’s chilly breath across pumpkin patches and corn mazes. Remember spirits walk among us once a year.

Contents

Lord Samhain

The Zealot And His Pet

Uncle Wendell's Doll

No One Knows Where Kate Went

Mask Maker

Sirk Du Jinulu

Lord Samhain

Halloween night, Anoka, Minnesota 1919.

Smoke billowed up from a trench cut into the side of a hill as the pungence of burning flesh permeated the twilight air. A wall of fire spawned by burning corpses separated two Mordryds. Rego’s violet gaze followed the smoke trail into Anoka’s main street. He opened his mouth and the fire left from the trench glinted against the obsidian shards of his teeth. Flames leaped higher, exposing his Jack-O-Lantern flesh. The dragon’s breath of the wind bobbed his black broad-brimmed hat. He stepped closer, bent his spidery legs until he sat on the heels of his boots, and contemplated the mass grave.

Across the trench, hidden by the wall of flame, stood Jinulu. The exaggerated shadow of his ghoulish body stretched into the forest behind him. His black tongue glided along lips made bumpy from the scars of removed stitches before he exposed his razor teeth in a grin. Spiraled pupils set in rich violet irises turned like gears and alighted on each burning body. Orange light carved deep rivulets of shadows into the ribbed texture of his sand colored flesh.

On the crest of the hill, a mass of humans wept. Mothers, fathers, cousins, and neighbors come to mourn. Handkerchiefs covered the ladies’ noses. Anoka’s minister vocalized a prayer.

Forgive the deceased, for the curse of influenza was not of their doing. Forgive them of their sins, Lord, that they may be accepted into heaven.

The crowd uttered a collective amen after the minister ceased. Silence gripped the mourners, all that remained was the echo of the somber bonfire crackles. Then the mourners trudged en masse past the two Mordryds on either side of the flames, down the side of the slope. The mourners left behind the dwindling tongues of the pyre and two Mordryds across the trench.

Rego’s stomach snarled awake after the fresh scent of the dead graced his nostrils. His gaze shifted back into the pit. Drool collected below his black tongue, oozed out of the sides of his teeth, but he flinched away. His shaking hands dove to the pouch on his side and removed a crystal aquamarine pipe. A black, thin line marked the front of the pipe’s bowl. The line split open into a mouth, incomplete with uneven, broken, black teeth. Rego lit it with his shuddering fingers.

The pipe, Dimitri, broke the silence, After four thousand years you’re still not going to eat? You’re going to die.Rego glared at Dimitri and flicked the side of the pipe with his black talon. He lifted the stem up to his lips and puffed. A congealed scent of rose petals and mint drifted out of the thick, webbed plume of violet smoke that crackled in the air like frayed wires.

You can’t blame me for keeping an eye out for us. Can’t be you, anorexic freak, Dimitri continued.

Rego clicked his teeth against the stem in a threefold succession before he clamped down with enough force to crack it. His long fingers clenched his stomach when it growled to announce its barren state. The threadbare fabric ripped where his talons punctured it.

She died four thousand years ago. You can’t starve yourself because you kill-

Rego smacked Dimitri against a nearby tree before he had a chance to finish the sentence and rose the stem to his lips for another puff. Only, a glint in the night sky followed by loud crackling, stopped him. He lowered the pipe and took a gander into the velvet abyss.

A thin line, like a seam, split open in the night sky above Rego and Jinulu. It widened to expose the black, glittering