The Dead Walk on Halloween - SCP Foundation

Halloween night is one to remember,

there are sweets to be eaten and pumpkins to dismember.

The October month is mightier than September

and stands on the shoulders of November.

The one told here is certainly to be remembered…

The jack-o-lantern moon danced among the stars.

Below, children are dressed as monsters from Mars.

A cry of ‘Trick or Treat!’

and they have chocolate, so sweet!

There is a group who see behind the façade,

to them all the dark cards are laid,

they secure and contain

they are a Foundation, said plain.

They watch the houses because they might chew and bite;

they know the world isn’t right.

The horrors of the dead.

We try to silence them, we put them below

and think they’re put to bed.

We burn them to dust, so,

they’re gone, like a mirror

once we break them.

Still alive, they whisper:

‘No.’ They hit their graves.

Still alive, they shout:

‘No!’ They worm through cemetery caves.

‘NO!’

The dead men and women smell the living world.

Sugar.

Chocolate.

Apples.

Meat.

The eyes of the ones who know,

see the dead and act low.

The unearthed souls try to run,

try to peel away from the world once more,

they are contained in the grip of the unseen giant,

the Foundation.

All, but one.

The dead child hides in the dank expanse of a sewer,

his bones softened by moisture.

He trudges out caked in mud,

looks to the All Saints’ Day sun for blood.

New, old or dead.