A good turnout!

By the time we were turning the corner towards home, we were seeing groups of trick-or-treaters. As we drove into the alley, a horde of at least fifteen (mostly seven-ish with three or four parents who held the tiny ones and toddlers) rounded our corner, and I had to rush inside. Hubby was already filling the pumpkin with candy. I got inside and dumped the new candy in just in time for the first doorbell.

“Man, that pumpkin is scary!” said one child.

“Isn’t it, though?” said Hubby, handing out the Kit Kats. “My wife made it.”

“That explains it,” said the kid, turning to rush towards the next house.

We had quite a turnout. Around eight-thirty, we made a quick run to a friend’s house to see all the decorations she had put up and experience her husband’s megaphone and “talking scarecrow” stuff. As their door opened, a ghost dropped from the second-floor balcony and a lion roared. Their stop was not for the fearful!

There were some strobe lights and a couple of police cars in the darkness, so it bothered my left eye (the one that got damaged the most by the radiation) and I got dizzy. We had to stop by Sonic for a diet Route 44 limeade and some Tots. But my visual system wasn’t really happy until we got back home and fell out. Charging the Kindle right now. Hoping that a few people took a chance on the Splatterfairies and enjoyed them. I picked up some reference books and plan to spend a while browsing them before I conk out for the night. Excitement is tiring!

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Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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