Some of you agreed that this pic suggested a tale, so I wrote one.

Now I haven’t healed yet, so I was too tired to craft an actual story. Instead, I made this crazy, loopy Halloween tale—about this photo, and a bunch of spirits. I did it while tired, so I have no clue how it reads! I hope you like it! (I hope it’s creepy and stormy and halloween-y. That’s not a word, but go along with me, I’m a little loopy these days…)

I didn’t comment this morning because I was finishing this thing. I’ll get to you all later. But: I’ve gotten to almost all of you! And I’ll come back for more after that…And thanks so much for your encouragement and love! Peace and inspiration to you all, mark

Yes, it was one of those dawns where the lake roared like a beast, in a deep throaty roar that seemed to come from the caverns of hell, and which swirled around the waters like a gigantic centrifuge, ready to suck up everything in its path. The waves, in the meantime, leapt out of the water like ravenous tongues—they were curled and like razor-sharp lizard tongues—then crashed back to the depths where I was pretty sure they fed on the blood of the unfortunates who’d drowned in these waters, ages past. In the meantime, the wind roared, and the trees bent so far—as if genuflecting in terror of the lake-god—that they nearly cracked. I’d seen bad days on the lake before, but nothing like this, ever…

Soon the winds swirled not only around the shoreline, but the entire city, as if preparing to devour it in one carnivorous chomp. And the city slumbered a block behind me, in deep murky purples, high rises hiding in the shadows like sleeping bears, as the lake prepared a cataclysm that would soon engulf everything.

I thought of taking a few pictures, but my camera—all true—shivered in my hands so badly, I couldn’t control it. The usual joggers weren’t anywhere to be seen this morning—no great shock—except for a terrified few who ran like lightning, hoping to reach the end of this horrible wind and enter into the gift of the morning sun.

Soon it was just me and the roar, with those pre-storm hues so familiar to the Midwest: a sickly, jaundiced hue, like nausea made visible; and it had a red ‘trim’ to it, as if it’d bled through the night…and there I was, alone, standing in this frigid, drenched wind, cut to the bone by ice and freezing twigs, while the lake continued to wail as if it’d risen from the dead and wanted to eat a continent, now…

Then suddenly, a huge funnel rose out of the lake, and started sprouting arms, legs, a head, enormously long hair (flowing wildly in the wind), a gown, etc, until a human figure emerged: a human made of whirling and roaring water, with a gaze so piercing and maddened, it made the branches catch fire. I ran now, no longer able to justify remaining in this place, when a blast boomed out of the water: a thunderous cataclysm of rushing shock waves which hit me so hard, they threw me many feet backwards, where I collapsed. I was momentarily stunned.

But then features emerged—facial features, in the funnel: It was a female: The Lady of the Lake? From the Middle Ages? Would she impart my destiny, hand me the magic sword? (Had she ever seen me use a sword? Or any sword? God did she have the wrong guy…) Who was this creature, and why was she here?

But before I could get an answer, a tidal wave of I-don’t-know-what flew out of the distance: It was a cornucopia of Halloween objects, I mean huuuuuge pumpkins (with baby pumpkins bobbing behind on leashes and whining for food), and skeletons clacking in the torrential winds, and massive spiders and gravestones and vampires and ghouls and goblins—a cornucopia of the countless spirits and decorations that drape this city this time of year, flying in every direction. And lest you think they were out for ‘fun’—no: They were obsessed. I mean in massive circles-within-circles, swirling around the lake goddess in abject worship and fealty; and emitting horrible moans as if preparing for a ghastly ceremony-of-death. And their circles were so huge, they stretched to the outskirts of the entire city (and Chicago’s a huge city to begin with!): I should have run—but where? Anywhere I ran, I’d be devoured. So I froze in place, shivering and drenched, and beginning to mutter my last rites because let’s face it, once caught in a vortex like this, you’re not gonna see the light of day again.

Then—yes, there’s more—the goddess suddenly grew countless arms, as if she’d become a Hindu goddess; and she reached across miles to embrace the entire city. And all the flying spirits cried out “whoop,” over and over; and the trees bent so far, they shattered like toothpicks, leaving 20-foot long splinters in their place, while their treetops crashed into the lake where they were masticated like so many crunchy chicken bones. God. How do you get out of this alive?

Then the whole ghoulish entourage—I mean the pumpkins and vampires and ghouls and so on—started to dance in a huge water-logged ballet, leaping and doing pirouettes across the sky, and shouting at every thing they encountered. And those tongues of water—from my first paragraph—shot out of the lake and wrote ancient Samhain prayers across the sky. (Samhain was the ancient precursor of Halloween.) Was this the true ceremony of Halloween—where souls of the dead come to haunt the living, in a vast thunderous dance across the horizon?

Ghosts appeared everywhere now; and they flew to me and glared in my face, in rage. I yanked my face in every direction, but the ghosts appeared wherever I turned. Whap! They’d slap you in the face (jesus): Whap! Whap!" I cried: “Who are you??? And what do you want of me???” And they answered: “You can’t know us! Now leeeeaaave!”

“What?” I yelled.

“Leeeeaaave! Now—immediately!”

Jesus. “Then let me!” I cried.

So: Swatting at them like a kid swatting madly at gnats, I flailed and slapped my way out of that morass, hitting god-knows-what, plunging through every Halloween creature in history like a torpedo, and desperately eyeing the city which, though just 50 feet away, seemed 2 million miles away; all the while wondering it I’d ever get out of here alive. “Out!” I cried: “Out of my way!”

When, suddenly: Everywhere you looked, it was over! Crushed pumpkins and torn capes and ripped gowns and blood-stained tunics and huge fanged mangled teeth—the whole swarm of Halloween ballet-dancers were now cast and strewn across the landscape like the discarded remains of an ancient, inexplicable war. What happened here? Who did this?

Then that goddess appeared once more, and scooped up all the debris, including tons of it floating on the water; and stuffed it in her watery torso; then dived into the lake for good. Shit. That’s it? I mean, that’s it? The lake grew calm and everyone disappeared—just like that? Omg…

But then she popped up a final time: “Write about this,” she rasped, “and see how far you get!”

Delightful. A delight. I gotta run into this lady more often…

Then determined to get at least one record of this cataclysm, I took this shot—the one you see at the top of this page—and I left. Yes, that’s where that shot comes from. In fact, if you look at the Exif data for that shot (the data that accompanies all digital photographs), you’ll see not only the names of every object that was swirling there that day, but the name of every tree and every fish and every—you get the idea—along with their spouses, their children, and their pets. It even has the names of the sun rays! I can show you. It’s in my computer, just ask…

When I got to my neighborhood, a pumpkin on a stoop whispered, “pssssssst!”

I turned around.

“It was real,” it said.

“What?”

“The procession: It was real.”

Then it whooshed away for good.

(Ooookay…)

As I walked inside my building, my doorman said: “Where’ve you been? You look terrible!”

“Don’t ask,” I said. Then: “Did you see any Halloween decorations flying around? I’m just curious,” I said.

“Pardon me?”

“Halloween decorations,” I said: “Did you see any flying around? Like, 30 minutes ago…”

“Oh, lots,” he said: “Pumpkins. Cloth vampires. You name it…”

“You’e being sarcastic,” I said.

“Very,” he said.

“Okay. I was just asking,” I said. “Have a good day…”

Then, as I entered the elevator, the water I’d spilled all over the lobby (from my clothes) rose up, slapped the doorman across the face, and said: “Wake up!”

“What the fuck was that?” said the doorman.

And I took the elevator, entered my condo, uploaded this tale, and went to sleep…