You don't need a haunted mansion when the entire neighbourhood is already doomed.
Halloween has a way of making ordinary places look suspicious.
A perfectly innocent-looking house suddenly appears sinister after dark. A tree that seemed harmless during the day becomes something that absolutely looks like it is reaching for you. A quiet street becomes a little too quiet.
And if you're H. P. Lovecraft, apparently the solution is to populate the neighbourhood with vampires, harpies, ghouls, the dead, spectral powers and enough cosmic horror to make the entire suburb question its life choices.
Welcome to “Hallowe’en in a Suburb.”
Written by Lovecraft, the poem transforms an otherwise familiar landscape into something ancient, supernatural and deeply unsettling. There are no brave investigators, no monster hunters and no protagonist foolish enough to announce, “I'll go check the basement.”
There is simply the night.
And the things that come out when the night arrives.
