October Night

A poetic tale of woe.

Original art by Steve Veasey: @stevecandraw

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October Night
by: Zane Paxton

I.
October

Has no one told you of October Night? 
He’s king of this world— 
makes the others come alive, 
and gives them that cold autumn chill.
His eyes are black as sky, 
his hair like falling leaves;
has a crown that’s moon bright 
and a cloak like withered trees. 
Come, let me introduce you, 
I’m sure he’d love to meet.


II. 
Night 

I croak and groan upon the turbulent,
weight upon the weightless;
grab hold, grab firm, grab often in silence. 
I am your passage to Night.
In mourning 
you’ll see the chain drug threw me.
I’ll bridge the divide between bones 
and the other side.
I’ll give you steady ground.
Sit by me— and wait thus,
for your arrival.


III. 
Dwelling

The Hollowed City never 
needs light. And don’t worry, you 
won’t either.
On these streets it’s the shadows 
that show us where to go.
But don’t blink, and don’t touch anything 
until the proper time,
Mr. Night doesn’t like a stranger to stay 
and let’s just say— you are. 
Unless, of course,
you bind the dark 
and take the midnight heart;
which, once we find October 
you’ll be far... far... so far 
beyond that part. 


IV.
In Us

I whistle and sigh with the crisp 
dark wind. Dig into the dirt, and 
dig again. 
Aimless and hungry; growling 
at the dusk. 
Alone— but once I wasn’t.
Once I hunted with the many, 
once I bit into the sides of the 
living and waited till they weren’t. 
You’ll notice that I hurt now,
bound to deliver 
this October Night.
Still, and waiting for the never.
If ever— if ever, I could snuff out the light.
 

V. 
Together

To hold the dark, you’ll need 
to catch him first. 
And, he’s no easy target. 
Grab a shovel;
have it sharpened, 
and head beneath the moon. 
You might think he’s behind you— 
and you’d probably be right, but 
don’t turn to sight his presence. 
Just dig a grave and then lie
at it’s base; I promise you won’t 
regret it. When Night is out, he’ll join 
inside,
and it’s then you’ll trap his essence. 


VI. 
Faint

I ring and ring on. 
A bell of toll; the melody of darkness. 
Resonant in the city Hollowed.
Drifting, empty, like the sound of sorrows. 
The echo of October Night. 
I clash with ears and 
beat, like frightened cries. 
You’ll come, and I’ll call for you. 
You’ll listen, and listen, and listen again 
to follow this music to it’s end. 
My end. 
And your death; tomorrow. 


VII. 
Darkness

Your eyes are like the crows.
I don’t want to say I told you
so, but— I told you so. 
Now that you can see 
without flame 
you probably barely need me;
the way you’re finding your way. 
Taller too, and your face 
has changed. I guess darkness 
really does look good on you. 
Everyone’s noticed. Even buildings 
and birds. The woods have a saying, 
“Even dark has it’s turns”. 
I’m proud in a sense
I knew from the start 
you’d swindle the dark 
and be the one to steal 
the midnight heart. 


VIII. 
Combines 

There’s a key; or 
so I’ve heard, 
and a door— or something. 
Though you may already now know. 
Behind, is where the heart is supposed to go. 
Or stay? Yet, in your case, it's to take. 
You’ll have to be clever, and slow, and 
use your newfound dark. 
I see you’ve got a cloak— 
that’s smart, it will help you hide your mark. 
And even better that it looks like oak. 
Don’t worry, you’ve earned the right.
Go... go on ahead. 
After you take the heart 
October Night will, surely, place 
a crown upon your head.  


IX. 
The Midnight

You don’t want to know what I see 
inside the keyhole shaped 
for me; 
turning to have it release this October. 
You don’t want to know what I see, 
from the ring that carries me. I swear— 
even if I could sing, I’d be quiet. 
There is nothing 
but violence behind this door 
of death. 
And I, only I, 
have the power to lock it. 
You don’t want to 
know what I see. 
You don’t want to be
October Night. 



X. 
With the Heart

I am the falling leaves. 
I am the moon atop your head 
I am your vision black and 
I am your cloak of death. 
I tremble at the freedom; the breath 
of unchained dread,
and thank you for your eagerness to find my usefulness. 
You are the ferry, the wolf, bell, and key— 
and together we will take the world 
and then we’ll make it bleed. 
We are severed silence 
We are fear and fright 
We are burdened violence 
Call us…
October Night. 

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If I might steal your attention for just another brief moment I would be honored.

I’d like to give a special thanks to steve veasey for contributing his amazing talents to this collaboration. I think the poem would have a far duller feel without his generosity in producing such a beautiful cover photo.

Final note: I had a lot of fun creating this poem, and I appreciate you taking the time to give it a read. It’s intended to feel like an old legend, one that might be shared around a bonfire, and hit that subtle creepy note with a loud background of whimsy. I do hope you enjoyed it.