Prepackaged hamburgers, vacuum sealed and ready for the radiated waves of a beeping glass carousel, and sugar sweetened water, carbonized and bottled in the plastic cancer that grows deep within Mother Earth's metastatic land fills. And to the dark sorcerer who conjured Man's first Funyun, my pointed hat s'off to you. For better or for worst. In sickness and in health (mostly sickness), these are the delicacies which sustain the masses in this modern world. Our first farms and fields, so lovingly and carefully maintained by early man, have been replaced by automated harvesters and growth hormones and genetically mutated grains. And almost gone are the ancient rituals associated with the end of the harvest and the blessing of the fields in preparation for next spring's planting.
Except for one such ritual -- the Halloween bride.
In the Night's Time, when the country sides and meadows were rife with creatures of The Void, the crones taught protective blessings to the farmers who tended Man's flocks and fields. They risked their safety living outside the growing cities, a risk casually dismissed by those walled away from the hidden things lurking between the rows of corn.
One such blessing (the greatest such charm given) was the invocation of the straw man or the scarecrow, a delightful sort of golem who hung in the fields to shoo away unwanted gremlins and ensure a bountiful harvest throughout the planting season. Few ever saw this folksy effigy take from his pumpkin patch post to battle trespassers into his territory, but all written accounts agree in the deadliness of his dispatch, followed by a most charming display of local dance before settling himself back on his wooden stand.
As it was in Night's Time, and still is today, nothing came without a price. The scarecrow, henceforth known as Sam Hain in honor of the harvest season's ancient name, required gifts to guarantee his protection for the next planting season. Once the fields were reaped and the livestock slaughtered, the rural townsfolk gathered in colorful costumes to celebrate the harvest and tempt that ragged scarecrow, Sam Hain, down from his peg to dance a jig.
And what a fabulous party! The spirits (evoked) of family passed mingled with the spirits (distilled) of fermented grain. Emboldened by their disguises (and the alcohol), the hardworking men and women of these rural areas threw caution to the wind, taking up chanting and dancing in circles with the cursed crones who were typically shunned, the wyld women who lived even outside of country society. There they celebrated another passing of the year, and paid tribute to the master who kept their plates filled, and families safe.
And once the festive frenzy hit a crescendo, that stitched sack of hay and twigs would suddenly jump down to the delight of the assembled guests. Kicking, shimmying, swaying and grooving, there Sam Hain danced while villagers and farmers laid at his prancing feet offerings both beautiful and profane, both a trick and a treat.
You see, Sam Hain, like all conjured entities, exists in the world between Man and The Void. And the gifts for his services had to be equally exquisite yet grotesque. A lovely carved knife stained with demon's blood, for example; or a detailed painting of a crying child, one enchanted to actually sob out loud; or thirteen white doves, all skewered on a silver arrow; are all documented examples of a few gifts offered in harvest rites gone by.
And as the years passed, old Sam Hain had time to think about his situation hanging up on that stick, roasting in the summer sun or swaying in an autumn breeze. The scarecrow realized how lonely his life had become. He came to anticipate his tribute with increased emotion. And he found himself envious of Mankind for their loving relationships. The crooked crones relayed Sam Hain's wishes. He now wanted a bride, one every year to continue his blessings on the harvest, or else he'd let the monsters of The Void ransack their farms.
The farmers had no choice in the matter. And now a young, virgin bride (or groom -- being a scarecrow, Sam Hain naturally swung both ways) was selected from their midst to keep him company for the long, cold winter. She'd travel with him into The Void and bid goodbye to Man for eternity.
There are rumors that in some of Man's cities (those with a strong connection still to nature such as Atlanta, Bergen and Portland) elaborate, costumed weddings to Sam Hain still exist. Halloween brides are said to be chosen at birth, and raised with the knowledge their destiny lay within The Void, and at the side of the Master of Halloween. And the lucky guests who give gifts to that dancing scarecrow are entitled to all manner of blessings for the year that follows. But only if your gift exceeds old Sam Hain's expectations.
And only if you're on the wedding guest list...
