Mwah Hah Hah

I'm headed off to the West End Halloween Parade tonight, put on every year by Shoestring Theater. It's the first year I've been able to go, because Daughter is completely terrified of it--and this year she's going trick-or-treating with her *boyfriend.* That's right.

In honor of Samhain/Halloween, I thought I'd share with you the opening lines of the best horror novel I've ever read, ever. And I've read a lot of them. No, really. Every other haunted house book written since is just a retelling of this one.

No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson, 1959

Anyway, here's wishing you a safe journey through the darkness, and enough candy corn to put holes in your teeth.