Out of the window, perilously spread, her soft unfettered flank is a propitious shade of ochre. Between blackened smile and Pythagorean eyes emerge soft pink folds glistening in the sun’s final rays. As shade darkens her perch, the pumpkin on the sill drools with anticipation. Soon candlelight will forge furrows in the ensorcelled twilight, guiding ghastly ghouls who seek to fill their sacks with delicacies. But she will empty them. Offering their seeds to the autumn gourd, they grunt through ghostly masks and gamely give themselves over to her dark altar, which turns tricks to conjure delectable gooey treats.