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Every October, people dress as demons, zombies, and weird creatures and call it Halloween. But before it was an excuse for adults to act like toddlers in latex, it was Samhain a Celtic festival marking the end of harvest and the beginning of winter.
Back then, the Celts didn’t have pumpkin-spiced anything. They had bonfires, druids, and a firm belief that on October 31, the veil between the living and the dead went paper-thin. Spirits wandered freely, and the only logical response was to wear animal skins, set things on fire, and pretend you weren’t terrified.
Then along came the Romans. Because of course they did. They rolled in, saw the bonfires, and thought, “That looks fun, let’s add fruit.” Enter Pomona, goddess of trees and apples — hence the modern horror of “apple bobbing.” Nothing says ancient pagan reverence quite like dunking your face in tepid fruit water.
Later, the Christians arrived and decided to rename the party. They called it All Hallows’ Eve the night before All Saints’ Day. Basically, they rebranded a spirit rave into a saintly sleepover. The costumes stayed, but the theology got a facelift.
The Veil and the Dead (Or: Where the Weird Stuff Starts Crawling In)
Samhain was never about candy; it was about respect and fear. They believed the dead could cross over, fairies might steal your baby, and rowan berries could stop all that nonsense. People left food for ghosts, milk for wandering souls, and the occasional loaf for whatever thing was breathing behind the barn.
The thin veil still fascinates people. Every year, the New Age crowd wheel out the crystals, the witches open Etsy shops, and somewhere a bloke with a bad Wi-Fi signal declares he’s “seen the other side” via his Ring doorbell.
Ghosts, Myths, and Other Recycled Nightmares
Jack O’Lantern — A man so stingy he tricked the Devil, got banned from Heaven and Hell, and ended up wandering the earth with a hollowed-out turnip. Basically, the first bloke ever to DIY existential despair.
The Banshee — Screams before death arrives. Often mistaken for your mother-in-law.
Will-o’-the-Wisp — Mysterious lights leading travellers to their doom. Ancient folklore’s way of saying, “Don’t walk into swamps, you idiot.”
Headless Horseman — The Dullahan on a gap year to America. Rides around looking for his head — like most people on a Monday morning.
La Llorona — The wailing woman by the river. A cautionary tale for men who think ghosting ends at death.
The Modern Horror Show
Today Halloween is a mash-up of capitalism, sugar, and trauma bonding. Supermarkets vomit orange plastic; influencers pretend it’s about “manifesting darkness”; and people pay £30 to walk through haunted houses that are statistically less scary than the cost of living.
But under all that, the night still hums with something ancient. A recognition that life and death aren’t enemies they’re neighbours, separated by a door that creaks open once a year.
So if you’re out tonight and feel that electric chill, don’t blame the weather. That’s the old world whispering, reminding you you’re just another mortal passing through.
Light your candle. Wear your mask. The dead are listening.
Warlock Dark Chronic illness survivor, truth-teller, occasional bastard. From My Living Hell (For those who came here by accident: yes, my living hell is real. And yes, we still fight. Every shitty day. With defiance.)
