Horror is not just seeing something approach. Horror is whispering in your ear.

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The 2022 Halloween Parade by Alistair Stewart.

The parade this year feels brittle, at least at first. It reminds you of that first step

into a swimming pool, wondering if it will be too hot or too cold. You brace yourself for sharp

contrast, you face the suck, you breathe through it and then you're there. There's an opening

act waiting for you this year. The horror of wondering how many participants and attendees will be

masked. No float, just you. You're too conscious breath and there's too many visible faces for

complete comfort. Nevertheless, you settle in a pretty good spot. With Charrows in hand and

your own mask nearby, you wait for the parade to begin. The controller walks the road as she

always does, masked as she always is now and then turns. Spreads her hands wide, the street fills with

smoke and the genius, walking with her eyes directly ahead at her hands by her sights,

working frantically at some invisible problem. She's alone, except she's really not.

Motion blurs, oil in water mirages surround her. Briefly, there's a man in a hat, the hint

of an octopus. She is clearly tense waiting for her moment, some moment, any moment.

Behind her on a float that looks like a library, her best friend stares at the back of her head.

Neither of them turn.

Behind them comes the vampire slayer. No, that's wrong. Behind her comes the vampire slayer's friends,

the blonde, the boy, the vampire holding his hand, the slayer follows her.

Iconic red bobbed hair catching the sunset, twirling a steak with nervous precision. Her not

quite girlfriend is by her side. Not quite, yes. But soon, this feels right, this feels familiar,

but you look at the blonde and you see blood and death and a wall with gods.

...