The fading sunlight of All Hallows’ Eve tiptoed as quietly as a procession of ghosts across Milford-Haven’s rugged coastline.
Though hot Santa Ana winds had made the inland hillsides brittle, here along the Central Coast comforting mists rose to cool the headlands. Once-green grasses, now a medley of browns and tans, appeared as smooth as suede stretched across the uneven terrain.
When sun sank into ocean at 5:09, a band of crimson engulfed the edges of the world with deep, barely audible murmurations, leaving the landscape to lost wanderers visible only to themselves.
Their forms glimmered in the 3:02 moonrise on this evening when the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest. As ancient as the Celtic harvest and Gaelic Samhain celebrations, the spirits wandered under a waxing gibbous moon.
A soothsayer would say the Moon in Pisces encouraged perceptiveness of surroundings, where one might experience feelings of insecurity. But not all souls paid attention to warning signs, and they would have to pay the price of altered trajectories.
Tomorrow would be All Souls’ Day, the commemoration of all the faithful departed, a day of prayer and remembrance.
But for those who floated through time and space as randomly as driftwood on the tide, there could not yet be remembrance.
There could, however, be awakening.
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