The Wickerman

Little Sally Sue never wanted to be a warlock. What her dream was to be a witch, flying high in the sky on a broomstick with a little black cat by her side. But momma was a warlock, daddy was a mage, and nobody grew up to be a witch. She could have been a mage instead, maybe (the gods forbid) a priest, or maybe a mighty warrior who made her enemies tremble at her cry, but since she couldn't be a witch, she'd be a warlock like her momma.

For years she practiced her fel spells, mingling with the creepy crawly demons of the warlocky world. She studied her books, played with fire, all the while her height grew higher. Amongst the cackling of imps and the impatient stomps of fire-laden steeds little Sally Sue became a young adult.

One fall evening when Sally was grown, curiosity caught her eager mind. Down to the Undercity the Blood Elf did wander, for she had heard about the burning of a man; every Hallow's End the Forsaken set flame to the Wickerman. Night after night did they dance, celebrating their escape from something like a bad romance.

Pumpkins and candies and masks they did have, with dancing and hooting and hollering they burned that hay-shaped man. Not just Forsaken but Blood Elf and Tauren and Troll and a goblin too, all danced about half clad, what a crew. While searching high and low did Sally Sue, she hadn't found an Orc, not one amongst the early morning dew. It mattered not for the party had gone on all night, not a single person noticed nor knew.

Early that evening there rose such a clatter, a manic laughter, fel fire; everyone scattered from their tents to see what was the matter.

Above them all was am man on a horse, no head in sight; he cried out, making quite the scene:

"Here's my body, fit and pure! Now, your blackened souls I'll cure!"

While innocents scattered to the wind, the Headless Horseman did descend. Upon the crowd he unleashed his pumpkin horde while spells a plenty chased his hiney, left him sore.

"Harken, cur! Tis you I spurn! Now feel...the burn!"

The battle did wage but for a mere day, all kinds of spells leaving dead bodies in the way. But sunrise came, the Headless Horseman was dead. Now all that was missing, was his bitty pumpkin head.

Little Sally Sue, now grown and schooled, thought this situation peculiar, as if something was skewed. High and low she searched alone, thinking to find his head to bring him home.

Digging and searching all through the soil, moving rocks and pushing bushes did she toil. Finally amongst the muck there sat the Horseman's gourd, looking more than just a tad bit bored.

"Get over here you idiot, I have things to do!"

Instantly it was love at first scorn, "Quickly" he said "I must be reborn!"

So over to a cathedral she took the little shriveled head with the intentions of bringing the Horseman back from the dead. Upon a pedestal he was placed and Sally Sue said the words, eager to see him face to face.

"Horseman rise...
Your time is nigh...
You felt death once...
Now, never know demise!"

And rise he did at her cry; he grabbed a broom, handed it to her so she could fly.

"Come my new found love, let us soar. A holiday is upon us, it must not bore."

Together they rained terror from the clouds, pumpkins and shadow bolts soared down to the ground. With a mad laugh the Horseman did declare:

"Feast your eyes upon my witchy wife, she too brings you despair!"

Together they flew in destructive harmony, cackling and laughing and smiling with glee. On and on they went until the very last of the holiday.

To her he said: "I must go now, my time is spent. The day of the dead has come and I mustn't waste another moment, not one second. Until next year love I shall be away, but together we shall celebrate again on that day."

With that he was on his way, alone Sally Sue would wait for when the sky would turn red and the undead once again burnt that man of hay.

(Happy Hallow's End everyone!)