Horror can be anything. Goofy, political, dramatic, and everything in between. But the best horror, is, at its core, human. We (by “we” I mean “everyone but me”) are all going to die, and death comes in myriad forms. We meet it in myriad ways. Personally, I hope to go out laughing, but I have a sneaking suspicion that my death, which is highly unlikely to ever occur, will be lacking in both wit and grace.
Octoberween is here to pay tribute to that most Metal of holidays, Arbor Day. The trees are coming for us, Macbeth style, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Game over, man. Game over.
But really, we’re here to raise our glasses to a vital part of the human condition. Fear gives us life, and Halloween gives us candy. Candy gives us death, death gives us purpose. Purpose gives us life. Halloween, then, is the life-giver. Octoberween is a celebration of life and death, of the very foundation of our humanity. There is no life without death, and probably vice-versa. Horror reminds us of our mortality, of the indifferent cruelty of an uncaring universe, absent God, or a coven of witches who are (rightfully) exacting vengeance for a past slight*.
Death is coming for us all, but once a year we can dress up as our worst nightmares, best dreams, or, I guess, best nightmares. We can own our fates. Halloween lets us bare our souls to the world, revealing fears and hopes alike. Horror, in all its diverse forms, reminds us that even if we die alone, we all face death together. Except for me, because I will outlive the universe. Probably. I mean, so far so good, right?
In the spirit of the season, here is a joyous song about necrophilia***:
*Never be rude to a witch. Never bargain with elves. Never make rock jokes around a troll. Ply wizards and Nanny Ogg** with drink.
**At all costs, prevent Nanny Ogg from singing the Hedgehog Song.
***Neither Rooster Illusion nor the writer endorses necrophilia. Shit’s weird, man.