Halloween Countdown, Day 22
Oct. 22nd, 2014 06:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Ever since I moved far from home to go to college a couple of decades ago, I've had a thing about snailmail. As much as I enjoy the ease of communication in the internet age, I really love finding something in my mailbox! Sixteen months ago I joined Postcrossing, which allows you to send a postcard and receive one back from a random person somewhere in the world. I've been thoroughly enjoying the experience. It's especially fun to send postcards to students around the globe whose classes participate in Postcrossing.
Of course, one of the kinds of postcards I request are spooky, eerie ones. Here are some of the wonderfully Halloween-appropriate postcards I've received.
This one is from Germany.

These are from Lithuania and Japan, respectively.
These are from Russia and Germany.

“Henderson sighed. There was a time, he reflected, when the coming of this night meant something. A dark Europe, groaning in superstitious fear, dedicated this Eve to the grinning Unknown. A million doors had once been barred against the evil visitants, a million prayers mumbled, a million candles lit. There was something majestic about the idea...”
― Robert Bloch, "The Cloak" (1939)
Of course, one of the kinds of postcards I request are spooky, eerie ones. Here are some of the wonderfully Halloween-appropriate postcards I've received.
This one is from Germany.

These are from Lithuania and Japan, respectively.


These are from Russia and Germany.


“Henderson sighed. There was a time, he reflected, when the coming of this night meant something. A dark Europe, groaning in superstitious fear, dedicated this Eve to the grinning Unknown. A million doors had once been barred against the evil visitants, a million prayers mumbled, a million candles lit. There was something majestic about the idea...”
― Robert Bloch, "The Cloak" (1939)
no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 12:31 pm (UTC)Sew up the eyes of the dead.
Lock them up tight with criss-crossery,
blind them with the fishnet –stocking’d
hem of forever.
Ah, no.
Open them wide,
those windows from which
no one may ever look again.
Open them,
for what may they have seen,
in that last moment,
with bone’d fingers about a throat,
with the certain laugh of protracted
destiny
belling with sombre certainty…..
Frame a victor’s wreath about the terrible beauty of them:
Feather-flowers of blue-gold-green,
Oh, fragile
Cabaret eyelashes for the Dearly Departed:
Invite us within this proper peacockery of passing.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 05:46 pm (UTC)I absolutely love this. It's properly chilling all the way through. Great imagery: "fishnet-stocking'd hem of forever," "certain laugh of protracted destiny," etc.
I especially love that last line with its "proper peacockery of passing."
This is seriously fantastic. Thank you so much for sharing it!!! *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2014-10-24 08:24 pm (UTC)