Halloween

 

 

It’s nearly midnight now on Halloween night. Two thousand years ago, the Samhain sacrifices would have been completed, and the feast celebrating summer’s end begun. The Celts would have rested well knowing that they’d earned another year of prosperity and peace. The Lord of Death would visit them only for those whose long lives were at a natural end.

It won’t be that way for us, though. Did I fail tonight? Could I really have granted the world a return to that kind of serenity?

At the beginning of this journal, I said this: “It’s only been two weeks since the world started to fall apart.” I realize now that sentence, while dramatic, is not entirely correct. The world fell apart long ago. And yet we continue to live in it; as messy and dangerous and ugly as it is, we somehow continue along, occasionally finding moments of joy, love, or just quiet reflection. We share love that bonds two of us together, and we share stories that one of us has created from nothing. We bond with non-human species, and we feel horror when we cause them harm.

I don’t accept that I’ve condemned the world, because any world that requires giving the lives of children (or adults, or animals) to gods is frankly not worth living in. Gods are too arbitrary for me. Even the Morrigan’s righteousness came with a vicious price.

I know Conor might try again, that he might find another woman who possesses skills greater than mine and the constitution to commit bloody sacrifice. If he succeeds, and the world improves overnight next year, or the year after that, then I will think of a young boy whose soul is owned forever by a black abomination, and I won’t regret my decision.

I won’t erase Mongfind’s manuscript or break the wand I was gifted with, but I have no interest in casting spells or pursuing any other magical goals.

The world is already magical enough.

 

The End