Happy fall, #kidlit community! For my entry, “The Hundred-Year Village,” I drew inspiration from the image below by Gianluca Grisenti on Pexels.com. I hope you enjoy this spooooky mountain adventure! Thank you to organizer extraordinaire, @KaitlynLeann17, as well as to the many generous prize donors: @Ms_Holliday93, @readbystephanie, @ErDiPasquale, @IvanTaurisano, @ebonylynnmudd, @AndreaYWang, @AReynosoMorris, @amandarhill32, @HovorkaSarah, @chanastiefel, @ShannonStocker_, @AutumnLeaflet, @BrianGehrlein, and @JStremer.

The Hundred-Year Village
By Kelly Clasen (188 words)

When Jack-o-lantern flames 
have fizzled into smoke,
and the last Halloween pail
has been pillaged by parents, 
a mysterious village emerges
in the moonlit mountain mist.

Kept hidden by sorcery,
and unveiled by the same, 
the Hundred-Year Village 
beckons the otherworldly. 

Casting caution to the wind,
they haunt loudly, wildly, boldly,
right out under the stars
for one night each century—

one night only.   

Horsemen from every realm,
headless and wicked fast, 
race black-hearted steeds
down Main and across the green.

Witches and goblins unite 
amid a thousand cauldron fires,
to exchange hexes and spells,
to brew potions and mischief. 

Werewolf packs hunt fowl
and other game (not all small)
for ghoulish guests to devour
at the feast of the century.

Skeletons cause a ruckus,  
a clickety-clackity fracas, 
when Dracula starts rocking
down at the old Town Hall. 
 
Yes, it’s a spectacle of specters,
a hullabaloo for the ages, 
for one night—

one night only—

in the Hundred-Year Village. 

What’s that?
You fancy a fright-night hike?
A spooooky mountain adventure?

I’d think that through. 

Unless you want the Hundred-Year Village
to close its iron gates on … 

YOU!