Ghost Upon the Floor

This past Saturday, June 30, 2012 in a Big Lots store. In both the household cleaning section and kitchen ware. An autumn themed scented faux candle and a single placemat. Both of which I purchased.

It's been too long. Too long out from Halloween, and too long updating this blog. A few days ago, while cleaning, I found this vampire cookie cutter I had ordered off of eBay some time ago, when I discovered it there and the fact that I could no longer buy one from the manufacturer.


I paid more for this little guy than I'd like to admit (nor can find or remember, thankfully, looking back at my eBay account), but I know I'll have fun decorating his spawn sometime in the not too distant future...

Oil painting, Ray Bradbury

"'Mr. Moundshroud, will we ever stop being afraid of nights and death?" 
"When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die...'"


-Ray Bradbury, "The Halloween Tree" 


 I last wrote about Ray Bradbury this past October. And how, as with each best and busiest autumnal season, I want to read the beauty of his novel "The Halloween Tree" yet again. From as early an age as I can remember, Ray's voice was one of the few which spoke to me, when he perfectly understood that which comes with the fall, and the Halloween season. As I've continued to read and reread him further into life, I find that, while perfect for youth, his voice understands and speaks to October's children so complexly, so personally, all their lives long. 


 This week, Ray passed away at age 91. The man who famously (and encouraged others to do so) wrote every day, amassed in his 91 years a body of work a canon all to his own, and one which I'm sure will cement him a giant in twentieth century literature. Working so often in the mixing genres of horror, science fiction, magical realism and all which lies between his many worlds, I know I have not read anywhere near all the Bradbury I should, or will. Among my favorite novels, I count the dark orange flickering lit jack o'lanterns peering from the many branches at the young friends in "The Halloween Tree," the threat of the deceptive, dark, weird and tortured carnival train bearing the witch and like wickedness coming to your small town with "Something Wicked This Way Comes," and the family of monsters assembled in "From the Dust Returned." 

Bradbury and family, 1958

 I believe we are all put here to, in our own way, beat death. The ways in which we do this so differ, but I know Ray's was all his own. With his words, with the enduring legacy of his novels and stories, Ray will forever live there in the stars. Cheers to Ray, and a life well lived, worked. 


"'Mr. Moundshroud, will we ever stop being afraid of nights and death?" 

"When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die...'"

 There's nothing like a holiday to remind you of all the others. While the marshmallow treats we see only during October are featured in this very important video, some of them from this time of year, redressed for the darker day, do make an appearance.

 Happy Easter, from the Ghost.



YouTube User: SciFiClub

I apologize for not writing here as often as the Ghost should. I woke up from a dream last night, and realized that I had  been dreaming about this segment from Disney's "Fantasia." Not only is this piece a segment in the animation and classical music melding film from 1940, but pieces of the famous "Night on Bald Mountain" segment often showed up in the "Disney's Halloween Treat" specials I've written about before-- and, thus, the images seen in my childhood have forever been burned in my psyche.

 I can't tell you when the last time I either saw this segment or heard the music by Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky. Yet-- last night, I was dreaming of the big, dark, evil creature atop the mountain, and the lonely, lost tormented souls wandering the earth being pulled to his dark energy.

 Watching is segment now, I never realized the story concludes with the light triumphing over the dark with those of the light singing "Ave Maria." Apparently, the fascinatingly creepy images of a demon summoning skeleton souls rising up from the gallows made the more dominant impression on my child self than the portion's conclusion. And also apparently, if I am dreaming of these skeleton horses and their grim-reaper riders, I need more Halloween in my life; if these pictures which so interested me and I so loved from the moment I first met them are rising from my sub-conscious to visit me at night.

 Earlier in January, I ended up one Saturday in a section of Forest Lawn I'm not often in. Near one of the cemetery's lakes, there is a section filled with large, more modern mausoleums and statues-- some of which I have photographed before. Behind a row of medium sized mausoleums is a growth of trees and a riverbank, which leads to one of the quieter parts of the creek inside the cemetery. The spot is a safe little place ideal for quiet, thinking, calm.

 But I had never noticed what you can see there, up at the top of the hill on the opposite side of the area. One would think I hadn't noticed the mausoleum at the top before because of the heavy trees which, with their leaves, must surround and shroud the hill during the spring, summer and fall months.

 The mausoleum stood at the top of the hill, imposing. As I started to climb up the hill it stands on, I realized I'd never been up there before. And I'd picked the perfect day to start. The photos don't show how steep the hill actually is, I believe, and how difficult it was to climb through a fresh inch of snow up to the top. A newer section of the cemetery, most of the stones along the way were new, fresh and modern-- and contrasted with what lay at the top.

 Up close, the mausoleum is even larger than I'd expected. Though several random, separate markers populate the hill at the top, none appear connected to the mausoleum which bears no name. The Greek symbols/lettering for the Alpha and the Omega decorate the piece above the door-- and that is all. I searched for a name plate, a marker or something bearing a name, to no avail. Barring the slight possibility that something lays on the ground around the structure, the monument appears to be nameless. Once again, as so often within the cemetery, I was wondering. "Who were you?" 


 From the mausoleum, you are able to see much of this area of the cemetery. All of the section around the lake is visible-- and across the creek, to the first of the older sections of the cemetery, such as the one where the Pratt Monument lies. Behind the mausoleum, there is another steep hill down to the creek, with the cemetery's chapel directly on the other side.

 At the top you hear everything. All the sounds of the cemetery. The creek running around you, completely, surrounding you. The ducks and the geese from by the bridge. The wind in the trees. The silence of being in the middle of the vast cemetery. On this hill with what likely is the largest mausoleum in Forest Lawn, the mausoleum without a name.




You may view my photo album of the Hill here:

Forest Lawn, Hill, January 15, 2012

Almost a year ago, one of my Forrest Lawn postings was about the famous Forrest Lawn buck, and his guarding of a goose and her goslings, while they incubated and hatched. The story of nature's simple beauty and dignity was often included on local news reports, and Forrest Lawn went so far as to install a 24 webcam for people to watch the mother goose and her deer protector.