40 years ago to the day, when I met you ,lady macabre. All Hallow's eve in foggy Fleetwood,

as damp leaves burrowed into the slippery pavements of beach road.

 

I was stomping my way with John to the cemmie to cause some grief to the dead.  This being 40 years since I really knew the meaning of Samhain.

 

I shouted and hollowed and spoke bullshit Stephen King, whilst John kicked the tombstones and turned one cross upside down, in a bid to summon Satan; to save himself from himself. He would later drink his own blood. A cry for help?  Maybe.

 

But there we two are menacing the ghosts as we bump into, two more rain soaked phantoms,

up to no good. Female vampires.  S and K. Boys being boys and 15 -we pursued this gothic dream

in hope of finding the perfect girlfriend, anyone, to get rid of having none. That would explain all this fascination with horror and gore and video nasty bores. Acne faced, twisted and in shadow of our looks, we copped off as four.  The entrance to a much bigger world after leaving the dead behind to slumber their way back to eternal rest.

 

We didn't need masks this Halloween.  Teens with hung, drawn and quartered stares, but our first taste of the wares of relationship. My first real kiss and grope and 3 month affair, which became a teenage tragedy - like most of us all.

 

Funny when you look back at things that happened with '6s'' in their context. Sweet 16 would end it all.