Samhain evening. No pumpkin carving for me. Straight from the boring school party to the woods, to dance naked, a coven-less witch looking to invoke by conviction alone whatever daemonic dream may come.

"Make yourself all honey, and the flies will devour you," whispers the wind. "Spread your legs and so will I."

Obedient and willing, I lay down to receive the dark gift. I scream my ecstasy to the stars - and to two passing hikers who view this ready-to-use cum dumpster as a Halloween miracle. "Make yourself all honey, and the flies become your thralls. Forever."