The costumed trick-or-treat witch beside you, is it a costume?
Nurse Hatchet
The Florence Nightingale costume
red splattered with face paint blood
from Halloween makeup tubes
arranged on the bathroom sink.
Watching Mom in the mirror
transform the clear complexion
of her lovely daughter into
the ghastly black and green
of the dreaded Nurse Hatchet.
The pre-teen soft voice altered by
the concealed electronic box
issues Darth Vader’s whispering rasp
bringing unease to each household adult
cautiously filling her request and quickly
closing the door. As she turns to leave,
fellow ghosts and goblins open a wide path
for the nurse’s departure, feeling her power
to frighten all neighbors on this night.
While checking her stash of goodies,
finding herself alone past the corner
before the cul-de-sac of unlit houses,
she hears a low moan and looks back.
Her knees lose strength, weapon forgotten,
frozen with fear, too frightened to scream,
as the masked monk speaks her name
in Daddy’s laughing voice.
Nurse Hatchet may have the baddest costume there is, but there's some undercurrent of deep chill in the last stanza that makes my skin crawl. Daddy's voice is certainly not what it seems.
Tasked by his Goddess to find, relocate, and then quicken, the last three Heart Tree gem-seeds, Vanx the bard, and his motley crew of adventurers, set out to do just that.
Good one!
Ron