The parade is still roaring six floors down and I came up early to get out of this dress — best call I've made all night. Think you can keep up with what happens next?
The parade is still roaring six floors down and I came up early to get out of this dress — best call I've made all night. Think you can keep up with what happens next?
Mischief Night is mine — every candle lit, every door locked, and nothing starts until I say it does. Think you can sit still long enough to learn what comes next?
The moon's still nearly full and it wouldn't let me stay indoors, so the path through the trees won the argument. It's just me and the shadows out here — care to change that?
Last strand of garland is up, and every piece in this room went exactly where I decided it belongs — same rule applies to anyone walking through my door this weekend. Think you can follow instructions that well?
Pan de muerto won't knead itself, and my apron was losing the flour war before I even started. Come dust my hands clean?
Every monster in that haunted house stepped aside when I walked through — apparently I'm the scariest thing on this street tonight. Brave enough to test that claim yourself?
Half my face is painted and the altar's nearly done — the other half stays bare until someone earns it. Come finish the job?
The shire closes its gates for good after this weekend, so the corset comes out of the trunk a few days early. I can lace it myself — I just never said I enjoy it. Think your hands are steadier than mine?
The sky is putting on its best show of the month and I found the darkest field to watch it from. There's room on this blanket for exactly one more — coming?
Fantasy Fest week in Key West and I'm doing my own paint this year — the brush only goes where I decide it does. Tell me you'd have picked a braver color than this.