All Hallows Lane

Spooky ghosts, evil witches, black cats—I love them all! Halloween is my favorite celebration and writing muse. I want to share a few Halloween stories with you, and hope you enjoy the Witching Hour Collection.

Happy Halloween!

All Hallows Lane

D. A. Ratliff

Remus James Worthington was excited.

He turned sixteen precisely one day before October arrived—a milestone for him as it meant he could visit his grandparents for the entire month. Visits had always been a week at most, but October was magical. Pumpkin patches covered the farm where his father’s parents lived, and the month-long celebration held there drew hundreds of eager families looking for pumpkins, baked goods, apple cider, and hayrides.

The twinkling morning stars faded into daylight as Remus’s father, Alvin Worthington, pulled up in front of the All Hallows Lane General Store. Warm lights spilled from the windows overlooking a wide veranda covered with fodder shocks and carved and whole pumpkins. Wooden rocking chairs sat scattered along the wooden planks, waiting for tired guests to rest.

Remus opened the car door, and the aroma of pies, loaves of bread, and cookies wafted from the bakery. He smiled at his dad. “Think Grandma might let me sample what they are baking?”

Alvin grinned. “She might. My Grammy Liza let me, but I couldn’t tell anyone.” His father’s tone changed. “Big day today, Remy. Remember every moment of it.” He smiled again. “Now, get inside, do what Grandpa says, and do it well. Mom and I will see you for dinner.”

As his dad pulled away, Remy shivered. His dad had gotten serious, and he wondered why. Just because he’d turned sixteen wasn’t a big deal. It only meant that he was old enough to work the entire month for the festival. It was about time he could help. Besides, the real fun began when he turned seventeen and could drive without anyone in the car. Now, that was something to smile about, he thought.

Breakfast surpassed his dreams. On the table was fresh-baked apple cinnamon bread, scrambled eggs, and bacon, all served at his grandparents’ home, nestled in the tall pines behind the General Store. His twin cousins Meri and Edgar were there. They were nineteen and now old hands at the festival where they taught Remy his tasks. He suspected it would be magical. It wasn’t.

Remy spent the first day of the festival helping line the hayride trail with ghosts, goblins, and witches hiding in the trees, hundreds of scary pumpkins that had flickering lights placed inside, and a sound company arrived to add eerie sounds and music. By lunchtime, he had discovered muscles existed in his body that he had never met before that morning. Putting on the festival proved to be harder work than he had imagined. By the time Edgar, working elsewhere, picked him up for lunch in their grandfather’s antique cherry red pick-up, he was more than willing to go.

The crisp chill of the morning was burning off, but the warmth of his grandmother’s kitchen felt wonderful, not to mention the waft of her homemade vegetable soup as he entered. Grandma Dinah grinned broadly as her three grandchildren entered.

“Now, you young’ uns, sit down, and I will serve you a bowl of hot soup.”

Remy was taking a bite of freshly baked bread when his grandfather arrived. A portly man with thinning gray hair, his amber eyes twinkled in the midday sun streaming through the large windows. He stopped to kiss Meri on the top of her head, then sat down.

“Remy, good to have you at the table finally.”

“Good to be here, Grandpa.”

“Now let him eat, Marsden. Boy’s been working hard this morning.”

His grandfather grinned and glanced at his cousins before he spoke. “Well, that hayride route is an important one of the main attractions that the guests enjoy. But I think this afternoon, he’s going help me grade ‘em. Now, eat up—lots of work to do. As busy as we are today, this is nothing like later in the month. Work hard this first week. We will have it easier when the crowds are here.”

Grandma Dinah sat down. “Now, let these children eat.”

After lunch, as they left the house, something caught Remy’s eye as he walked toward the front door. A painting of an old rickety house with a sharp-pointed roof hung on the living room wall. The dwelling sat nestled in the woods, and an enormous silvery moon hung in the sky. He had seen the image all his life but, for some reason, felt drawn to it. He was standing before it when his grandfather spoke, startling him.

“Interesting old place, eh?”

Remy nodded. “Yeah, don’t know why, but I thought I saw something move. Must have been the sun hitting it just right.”

Marsden squeezed his grandson’s shoulder. “Light can play tricks on you. Let’s go. Got work to do.”

~~~

Remy showered and dressed for dinner when he heard his parents arrive. He bounded down the stairs to find them in the foyer.

“Where’s Cary?”

His mother answered as his dad handed him a suitcase. “She’s staying at Frannie’s tonight. It’s Frannie’s twelfth birthday, so they are having a party.”

Following behind his parents were his dad’s brother Albert and his wife Chloe, Meri, and Edgar's parents, who were with them. Grandpa and Grandma joined them.

Marsden gestured toward the living room. “Let’s go in here. Remy, we have something to show you.” He walked across the room to the painting. “Alvin, Clarise, you’d be proud. Your son is strong. He sensed the power in the painting.”

Remy looked at his dad, who was grinning broadly. “Dad, what’s he talking about?”

Alvin put his arm around his son. “I told you this morning that you should remember every moment of this day. It is time you learned the family secret.”

“What—what are you talking about?”

Marsden nodded toward the painting. “Have another look.”

Apprehension flooded Remy as he approached the painting. He sucked in a breath as he watched the painted trees bend in a light wind and the flowers sway. The pointed roof, so rickety before, became straight and sturdy, and the tall grass retreated into a manicured lawn. Lights began to flicker in the windows, and when the door opened and a man stepped onto the stoop and waved, Remy staggered backward.

“Mom, Dad…” His eyes were wide as saucers as he pointed to the painting. “That’s—that’s Gramps.”

His mother, Clarise, slipped beside him. “Yes, it is, and he is inviting us to join him for dinner. I know this will be difficult for you initially, but we are not originally from this dimension. We are from a world called Faerwyn.”

She pulled him away from the painting as Marsden began to chant. Remy uttered a small yelp when a shimmering, swirling portal of light appeared before the painting. “Come, son, I want you to meet your people.”

His skin warmed as he passed through the light, and his body became weightless. The house formed from nothingness in front of him, and with a gentle stop, he was standing on the lawn, his family surrounding him.

His mother hurried to the ruddy-faced man with a golden beard who had appeared in the image. “Dad, so good to be home.”

“Gramps? You live here?”

“I do.”

In a whirlwind of moments, Remy met family and friends. The others tended to dinner, a feast in the backyard, while his parents and grandparents ushered him into a room filled with lighted candles and celestial objects. Bookcases lined the walls, but Remy’s attention fell on a pedestal before a portrait of a man in flowing green robes—a thick book with a heavily tooled leather cover encrusted with jewels and gold lay on the polished V-shaped wooden top.

Marsden spoke first. “Remy, we are deeply sorry we needed to keep you in the dark for so long, but it was for your protection. You see, we are all from this dimension. We long suspected many more dimensions existed and discovered a portal into the world where you now live many eons ago.”

Rollin stepped toward him. “Remy, your father’s family descended from those of our kind who chose to live in the new world. The adults maintained their powers but discovered their offspring did not manifest full power in the new dimension until puberty, although some children did exhibit prowess. However, they could not control the magic, so we cast a spell on all children to suppress their abilities. A spell that we could not reverse until age sixteen.”

“Powers? What powers?” Remy looked toward his parents. His mother smiled and answered, her voice soft.

“Remus, we are the Magicis, the magicals. We are warlocks and witches.”

Remy stumbled backward. Only his dad’s strong arms kept him from falling. He took a breath and muttered, “Warlocks…witches?”

Alvin hugged his son. “Yes, there are seven tribes of witches, and Gramps is the Elder of the Council of Seven.

Rollin blew out a deep breath. “We couldn’t let you know because some youngsters exhibited a few magical skills quite early and became easy prey without the control an adult possessed.”

“Prey?” Remy wondered if his voice sounded as shaky to the others as it did to him.

Marsden answered. “We have enemies in the magical world. The Omenians are a sect of evil wizards who practice dark magic. They learned how to access the dimensional portal and sought to steal children from Magicis' parents and turn them to the darkness.”

Remy’s father interrupted. “There is time for him to learn of the darkness, but tonight, he becomes a warlock, which is cause for celebration. Let’s join the others.”

Before they left the office, Remy spotted a portrait of a raven-haired woman who looked like his mother. He called for her. “Mom, is that you?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “No, that is your grandmother, Octavia. She died saving several children from the Omenians.”

“I thought she died in a car wreck.”

“No, only a story to cover the truth. She is a hero to our people. Come, let’s eat.”

Dinner was a festive occasion. Rollin decorated his backyard with colorful streamers and candles. Tiny twinkling lights flitted around the yard, piquing Remy’s curiosity. He waited for one of the tiny lights to approach, then stumbled backward, stunned as the little glow became a full-sized human woman. Rollin noticed and hurried over.

“I am sorry, Remy, we should have explained. This is Ilea, a member of the fairy realm and our allies. They are humans who can assume a minuscule size to travel.”

The lovely green-haired woman with pale skin smiled. “And to spy. Marsden, we need to chat.”

“After the ceremony, Ilea.”

Rollin announced to the gatherers. “Let the Feast of Awakening begin.”

Overcome with emotion, Remy watched the events unfold with the eyes of an astonished child, not those of his mature sixteen-year-old self—candles floated in mid-air, sparklers spontaneously sparkled, and streamers danced the ballet in thin air. How could this be his family, his people? He was from a small town in Vermont, not a strange dimension called Faerwyn. The grass was green as at home. The air smelled of crisp leaves. There seemed to be few differences besides the dirty dishes scurrying without assistance toward the kitchen for washing. All right, perhaps a substantial difference.

As dinner concluded, his grandfathers’ rose, and his father joined them, motioning for him to accompany them. In his grandfather’s study, his father handed him a black cloak to wear as the others donned theirs, along with tall, pointed hats encrusted with jewels.

Rollin took the Tome of Magic from the pedestal and led them outside again, where six other wizards dressed in the same manner awaited. He turned to Remy. “As Elder Wizard of the Seven Tribes of Magicis Council, I hereby summon you to the Ceremony of Acquisition. Please follow me.”

They marched into a field beyond the backyard where an enormous bonfire was burning. The guests had gathered there, and all but the youngest children wore cloaks and hats. Rollin stood before the bonfire, directing Remy to stand facing him, Alvin at his son’s side. The council formed a semi-circle behind him.

A gong sounded, and Rollin began to chant. The Tome of Magic opened slowly, gold sparkles rising from the pages. His father began to chant with Rollin, and then the other council wizards joined in.

Remy shivered despite the roaring bonfire. The language spoken was unfamiliar, and the ceremony overwhelming. His grandfather, chanting, approached him with his wand raised, and shards of electricity raced along his nerves.

Holding his wand above Remy’s head, the Elder Wizard spoke. “Remus James Worthington, in nocturnum sexti decimi anni, et virtutes, quæ in vobis est reditus Magicis sit plenum."

The sensation was light at first—a slight pressure built in his head, a warmth spreading from his core through his limbs to his fingertips and toes. Strength flowed through him, and his skin became hot. A roar came from those gathered as the Elder took a hat from a council member and placed it on his head. His father handed him a wand.

Rollin placed his hands upon Remy’s shoulders. “Welcome to the Magicis.”

His mother and the rest of the family ran to him, and after hugs, his grandmother announced that it was time for cake.

Remy sat with Meri and Edgar as they enjoyed the elaborate confection his grandmother had baked. Edgar mumbled with a mouth full of cake. “Was waiting for this day. Tough not to tell you after we went through this.”

Meri shook her head, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

She turned to Remy, but before she could speak, the fairies began to transform into their small size and surrounded the guests. Ilea popped into full size next to Rollin. “I tried to warn you that we heard rumors they would come. They are here. Protect the innocents.”

They were too late. The Omenians began popping in, grabbing a child, and popping out. The fairies, witches, and wizards fought hard, fighting off many evil wizards, but the surprise element was too much. The children were disappearing before their eyes.

A child of three ran crying toward Remy. He picked her up as an Omenian raised his wand. His mother screamed as she watched. “Remy, revertetur innocentes.” Her words faded as Remy vanished.

---

Remy materialized in a large room. The walls covered with tapestries, a fireplace filled with glowing embers, and candles scattered about provided the only illumination. The cries of the children brought their plight into focus. There were twelve of them. He spotted one of the Magicis, Evette, whom he had just met. She was fifteen. He hurried to her.

“Evette, try to get them calm.” He pointed toward the door, “I’m going to see if I can get us out of here.”

He was two feet from the door when it opened, and an imposing wizard entered, followed by a witch. Remy knew little about witches, but he was sure he didn’t like this one. She was tall and skeletal, her wild hair spilling wildly beneath her hat.

The wizard pushed Remy back hard. “Do not think you will escape. You will not. You and the little ones now belong to us.”

“Velo, is this the new little Earth wizard?”

He nodded, “Yes, my dear, Mirande, quite the prize for us. New powers, and he does not know how to use them. A blank slate for us to mold as we wish.”

Remy was quaking so that the wand tucked in his cloak was shaking. “Let us go. These kids need to be with their families.”

Velo shrugged his shoulders. “They are with us now.”

The children, who had quieted a bit, began to cry loudly.

Mirande screamed at them. “Quiet, you will learn to keep that crying to yourself.”

“Come, my dear, I want to let our benefactor know we have quite the haul tonight. He will be pleased.” With a sweep of their capes, they left the room.

The little girl he had grabbed tugged on his sleeve. He picked her up.

“I am Brina. Can we go home?”

He looked at Evette, who was comforting another crying child. “Yes, we can. We will.”

They managed to soothe the youngest children enough to nap and the older ones to settle. A sullen witch had brought them food, but they wouldn’t eat but did give fruit juice to the others.

Evette sat on a bench. “Quite the night for you.”

He sat down beside her. “I have no words for this day.” He sighed. He was no longer the innocent kid who showed up to work at the Halloween festival. The weight of the world, his new world, pressed on his shoulders. Innocent. The word his mother yelled at him sounded like innocent.

Evette, do you know what,“ he struggled to remember the exact words, “reverletor innocentes means?”

She smiled. “It’s revertetur innocentes. It means to return the innocent. It is a powerful spell cast only by skilled wizards.”

“My mother yelled these words at me before I vanished.”

“You just got your powers restored. I don’t think you could do it.”

Remy's brows creased as he sat quietly. “Could we together?”

“Together?

“Yeah, I have an idea.”

A few hours passed as Remy put his plan into action. When he felt the children were ready, he was about to cast the spell when Velo returned.

“What is this, choir practice?” He swept his arm toward the crowd. The children were in a tight circle around Remy and Evette, arms linked.

“No, an escape. Now.”

In unison, the children, led by Remy, yelled the spell his mother gave him. “Revertetur innocentes.”

They vanished.

It was daylight when they appeared in the backyard where they had left. Some tables toppled over, and uneaten cake and broken plates lay across the lawn.

The children were crying once more, but this time for joy. A squeal from the house preceded a door slamming hard into an outside wall as excited witches and wizards hurried to their returned children.

Surrounded by their families, Evette was beaming as she reached for his hand. “Brilliant! Combining our voices gave us enough power to cast the spell. Brilliant!”

Clarise hugged her son tightly. “Your grandfather said it had been a long time since they had felt the intensity of your power as you regained your skills. I was hoping you would figure out what to do. I am so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom. You saved us.”

As the celebration continued, Remy glanced at his grandfathers and his dad. There was more to the Omenians than they told him and far more dangerous. Velo had reported to someone called the benefactor.

Remy had only one thought as the celebration continued— it was time to find the benefactor.

~~~

Authors Note:

I took several years of Latin, more than a bit ago, so I relied on an English-to-Latin translation program to translate the acquisition spell—I apologize for any inaccuracies.

Latin: In nocturnum sexti decimi anni, et potestatibus in Magicis enim omnis venditio redit ad te plena.

Translation: On your sixteenth year, let the powers of the Magicis be returned to you in full.