X-ploits of Mary Mc Scary

Mary McScary just LOVED Halloween,

And it wasn’t because of her name.

Things that freaked her friends out didn’t bug her at all.

She found ghoulies and goblins quite tame.

Howling zombies delighted her, Dracula too.

(Vampire tales were her story-time standby.)

The more haunted the better, she’d say to herself,

strolling past houses most children RAN by.

The undead made her grin, even when their eyes glowed;

Eerie sounds never gave her a fright.

For her birthday she asked (though her mother refused)

to play games in the graveyard at night.

Mary had nerves of steel; creepy things were her pals.

She liked spiders and snakes more than candy.

Tricks were better than treats any day of the week,

and a toad-eating witch was just dandy.

As a matter of fact, that would be her costume

for the Halloween party at school.

There would be a grand prize, and a toad-eating witch

couldn’t help but be cooler than cool.

Mary knew she’d out-screech and out-cackle them all;

She’d out-witch every witch in the west.

When the contest was over, the whole world would know

Miss McScary did scary things best.

 

It was Halloween week and a glorious day

when her story began to unfold.

Mary got off the bus, kicked some leaves down the street,

and then shivered a bit from the cold.

The chill was both sudden and strange, for the sun

shimmered high in the bright autumn sky.

Though the weather was warm, her spine tingled like ice.

Then she spotted the crow flying by.

 

It circled her twice, swooping in on bold wings

that shone black as a Halloween night.

Most girls would have screamed, but not Mary McScary!

She thrilled at the marvelous sight.

  

When it landed on top of the mailbox, she laughed

and decided to bring in the mail.

Mary opened the box. Poof! A puff of green smoke

circled her, like a witch-cat’s black tail.

She reached in her hand and came out with a card:

Mistress Mary McScary, it read.

The ink seemed to wiggle. She blinked, said “Hold still,”

and proceeded to read what it said:

On All Hallow’s Eve, in the old Salem Square,

near the graveyard on West Coventry,

the event of the season begins at midnight.

It’s the Witches’ Ball. RSVP.

A Witches’ Ball, awesome! This Saturday night.

It was perfect, and she was invited.

Still, midnight was far past her bedtime. Oh, well.

She’d sneak out just this once, she decided.

But whose party was it? How should she respond?

Would they like her to Facebook or text?

Mary wanted to say she would come, then applaud
that green smoke. (She loved special effects!)

Those effects kept on coming, too. All of a sudden,

the ink disappeared from her sight.

Invisible ink. A nice touch, Mary thought.

Were they hoping to give me a fright?

Fat chance! They would have to try harder than that.
Evil potions might work...or a spell. 

With a wink and a grin she looked up at the crow

and waved it a most cheerful farewell.

As the morning dawned bright, Mary rose with delight

to the wonderful weekend in store.

Tricks and treats, lots of eats and a dance with the witches…

a Halloween made to adore.

Walking out the front gate, she was startled to view

that same crow on the rail of her fence.

His beady eyes watched every move that she made

in a creepy way; it was intense.

They were yellow eyes. Ew. “Take a picture,” she yelled,

jumping forward to scare him away.

He just sat there, unruffled…disdainful, she thought…

but she’d not let him ruin her day.

About halfway to school, she felt feathers brush by her

but vowed there was nothing to dread.

After classes were done, the crow proved her quite wrong

when he dived down to peck at her head.

Arms flailing, she swatted and screamed. He was freaky,

but she didn’t want to admit it.

She laughed it off, but the bird followed her home

like a vulture. She couldn’t forget it.

He was everywhere, watching her hour after hour,

from a porch, from a lamppost, a roof.

That crow was no good; he was trouble, big trouble.

The way that he stalked her was proof.

She finally confronted him, shaking her fist.

“You old crow, what do you want from me?”

His eyes turned to bright yellow diamonds and glittered

as he cried out, “R-S-V-P!”

"So that's what he wants!" Mary chuckled with glee. 
"I got pranked, though I don't know by whom.
The joke is on me. I was getting so spooked
I just wanted to hide in my room."

The hosts of this Witch Ball were clever. How cunning.

They'd actually trained him to speak!

Marking “yes” on a post-it, she said, “Crow, go home,”

safely tying her note to his beak.

On the big day, she dressed like a witch, went to school,

and was voted “best costume” of all.

Later, she trick-or-treated and scored some good eats,

but her focus was on Witches’ Ball.

After bedtime, she waited; her eyes on the clock,

because she was too anxious to sleep.

Mary put on her witch’s hat, crept down the stairs,

and left home without making a peep.

The moon rises high in an October sky;

it was midnight, foul creatures were out.

There were bats in the air and black cats everywhere.

This was Halloween heaven. No doubt!

Mary had to admit that she trembled a bit,

as she walked toward old Salem Square.

It was spooky and dark, but she cut through the park

for she just couldn’t wait to get there.

Coming up on the clearing, she heard haunting music.

These people had done things up right.

Through the mist, she could see shadowed outlines of

dark figures, twirling beneath the moonlight.

Suddenly, she felt shy and crept in a bit closer

to see them before they saw her.

(She would ID the hosts, so that she could pretend

she had known all along who they were.)

But the strains Mary heard were so haunting, so chilling,

the hair stood up straight on her head.

As she crawled nearer…nearer…her vision came clearer,

a vision to fill souls with dread.

Instead of the friends she’d expected to find,

she found terror that cut quick and deep.

No mask and no make-up could conjure the Things

dancing there, while the world was asleep.

Evil lived. These were vixens and harpies and hags,

each one scaring her more than the last.

Sensing and seeking, their sin circled ‘round her,

like tentacles binding her fast.

She screamed; they were pulling her forward, possessing her.

How had they known she was there?

Overcome by a force stronger than her own will,

Mary floated, bewitched, to the Square.

She could not move a muscle, nor yet blink an eye.

Her heart shivered, grew colder and colder.

But every hope froze when she felt the cold claws

of that wretched crow piercing her shoulder.

Her tortured mind fled from the sight she beheld.

Nevermore would she call herself brave.

Her very flesh shrank from the witches' dance partners...

zombies, summoned up from the grave.

The music stopped dead; every head turned to Mary.

She swooned; what a nightmarish trap!

One witch raised her hand and warned, “Face your fate, missy,”

reviving the girl with a ZAP.

“Ye be our guest of honor, child. No need to fret.

In the arms of the undead, ye’ll see.

Ye wanted to be a witch, Mary McScary;

and henceforth, a witch ye shall be!”

No words ever struck greater terror than these.

Mary begged and she pleaded for grace.

“Let me go, I implore you; I’m not the one for you.

I fear I will bring you disgrace."

"Mayhap 'tis the truth ye be speaking,

but if it be destiny, ye’ll be our own.

If the dark stars would claim ye, then we must proclaim ye

a witch, ere the unholy dawn."

“I, Morag, have spoken.” The sodden earth rumbled,

as if to confirm what she said.

But then the witch looked Mary straight in the eye

and raised up her voice, arms outspread:

“Our guest will submit to the test of this coven,

for those who belong here can’t flee.

If ye, Mistress Mary, can exit this Square

in ten seconds, thy soul will be free."

The witch started counting, quite softly at first,

much more loudly as Mary gained ground.

"One-two-three" brought her clear to the hedge, "four-five-six"

took her over in one single bound.

"Seven" and "Eight" got her straight to the gate. With a

flicker of hope, she breathed, “Please.”

She opened the latch, tripped and couldn’t quite catch herself.

"Nine." Mary fell to her knees.

Hers is such a strange tale, from beginning to end...

and no doubt you will wonder what happened on "Ten."

Only Mary McScary can tell you for true.

Did the witches claim her? Are they coming for YOU???

~ TO JEREMIAH, CARLI, AND BRYCE ~
(our beWITCHing grandchildren)

with a very scary amount of love 
from

Ghostma and Ghoulpa Anderson

 

To read the Halloween stories from years past, just click below:

2012

2011

2010

2009

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