And we, without inhibitions, each grass-greened child, Losing forever our birthright, our untamed wild green terrain. A spectre appears out from the mist as a slime green mask slithers in. The joker, hideous with ash face and big feet, laughs from his belly. A sinister treat. Pace is quickening, howls from within shivering cold sweat in the damp of the night.
Street lights dim as mist blankets over.
Dare to knock with a loud thud in muffled orange fingerless gloves. The door creaks open and in the dim light a black witch cackles in her delight. The children have come, all dressed for the night of witches and spells. The first, his name's Matthew. Blooming blue and yellow on her tanned neck, she's sticking every stretch limb out, designed to trip us up, especially her mum.