Samhain Reunion

Samhain Reunion

Summer had turned to autumn, the wheel ever turning. Hecate swept her dark cloak across the country, causing the leaves to redden, then dry and fall. The birds had picked the last of the berries from the bushes. The Great Sabbath of Samhain had arrived.


The last warmth of the late fall day was fading as Nicholas crossed into the woods, making his way down the well worn path.


“This is the night I’ve waited for all year,” he thought as he strode through the lengthening shadows. “I can feel her closer already.”


At the far end of the woods, he could see the soft glow of light in a window and smoke drifting up through the tall pines. The front door of the cottage was opening, a beacon of light in the dark forest.


Nicholas could see an elderly woman sitting at an antique writing desk as he approached the door. Her black dress fell to the floor from her thin frame. She sat perfectly still, eyes closed, and he was uncomfortable with the thought of disturbing her. Her still countenance gave an impression of inconsolable grief, a grief so deep, so profound, that it absorbed all remaining light around her. A brief flutter in the bookcase behind her head distracted him. It was a huge raven. It settled its wings back into place and swiveled its head slowly to stare at him, daring him to advance into the warmth of its room.


The old woman gave a small shudder, seemingly coming back to the present, and turned to look at Nicholas. “Are you ready?’ She asked quietly.


“Yes.” He was annoyed to hear the slight tremor in his voice.


“Are you quite sure about this?” she asked.


“Yes.” Good. His rich baritone was more confident now.


The old woman approached Nicholas, stopped to pull a heavy black cloak from a gnarled hook by the door, and slipped past him into the night. He turned and followed her silently back into the woods. The raven followed them from tree to tree, its wings stirring the cold air with an audible “whoosh, whoosh” with each pass. Nicholas lost sight of the bird in the darkness until he followed the woman into a clearing. In the center was a maze of old stones, jutting up from the earth like broken teeth in the moonlight. The raven was perched on the farthest headstone. The earth mounded before the stone had not yet settled with time. Nicholas felt wild loathing for the bird welling up into his throat from his gut. He wanted to knock it off the perch, to throw his arms around the headstone and scream, “No, you awful creature of death! I won’t share her with you!” But he couldn’t move or speak. He was frozen to the spot as permanently as the cold slabs of marble surrounding him.


A light flared, the black candle illuminated a small altar nearby. It was decorated simply, a few fall leaves nestled under an apple and a pomegranate. Next to the candle were a small bell and an earthen bowl of incense.


A soft voice whispered to him, “If it is memory you seek, touch the stone.” He roused himself and stumbled to Samantha’s grave, tears blinding his vision and grief causing him to lurch unsteadily. He threw himself prostrate upon the mounded earth, digging his fingers into the soil. The raven flapped away onto a tree branch and looked away, as if unwilling to witness such a raw display of anguish.


Nicholas could hear a soft singsong voice, circling him as he lay sobbing on the grave.


“Mother wise and strong, wake to meet your mighty throng.


From the vortex now give birth; weave a magic circle round our girth.


As above, so below! This circle is sealed!”


He realized the time had come to visit his love. He rose to his knees, still clutching fistfuls of the burial dirt. He raised his arms in front of him and parted his fingers, allowing the dirt to fall between them onto the grave, as he whispered:


“As the rocks in time dissolve into the oneness of the Universe,


The wheel turns. Now the veil between the worlds is thin and the gates are thrown open.


Samantha, my love, arise now and cross the bridge that awaits you!


Come to me, come to me, come now.”


Nicholas closed his eyes, took a deep shuddering breath and waited. Fleeting thoughts wove their way through his mind, events of the last year. How frightened Sam was when she saw her own mother last Samhain. Her head thrown back waiting for his kiss. The terror in her eyes when he had slipped poison in her wine. Her soft skin under his hands. He began to feel a deep vibration, like a drumbeat. No, a heartbeat. She was here! His heart was pounding also as the blood and adrenaline rushed through his body in response to her. He felt her laugh, a warm breath on his neck. He opened his eyes but could see nothing in the darkness. She laughed again and nipped him on the neck. Ouch! He put his hand up and felt warmer air, but nothing more. Then it was over.


From far away, he heard a bell ring, once, twice, three times. He turned to the altar, to ask the crone for more time, but she was gone. The apple and the pomegranate had been split open sideways, displaying their seeds. He knew the Crone had left the mortal realm and begun her journey to the land beyond. She would descend to the Underworld to be with her God until she arose again at Yule, the seed of his child within her.





He sprinted through the forest, back along the path in the direction of the cabin. A mist had begun to form, swirling up around his knees from the damp mossy earth. He could no longer see the path, but he was sure he was near; mist was known to form around the spirit beings that come to greet and escort the Crone.


Through the mist, a signpost rose in front of him, marking a crossroads. On the signpost in the center sat the raven. It looked at Nicholas with beady eyes, boring into his skull with its gaze. He imagined a river of living blood flowing in a vast circle, and heard voices chanting from the past, present and future. He realized, suddenly, that this was not his time to pass over, no matter how much he missed Samantha. The raven Goddess Morrigan was directing him to choose the path that lead to the light of the mortal world, for he must fully know the bright blessed day before he would be allowed to embrace the dark sacred night. He nodded to the raven and turned up the well worn path, knowing that in the end, he would return to her again.