I have a secret, yes I have a secret, a pretty little secret indeed.

My secret makes me smile when i’m feeling a frown, it warms my heart when it bares its teeth.

I hold my little secret in my cold little hands, and stroke it’s quivering scales

until it falls asleep. When someone hurts my secret my eyes go wild,

my chest feels big, and scary, and loud.

no one shall touch my secret. no one shall hurt my secret. no one shall know my secret.

no one can see the secret i see for my secret

it is for me.

Frayed lace brushed the overgrown path as Saerci walked towards her grave. Her delicate steps picking a careful path through the still, grey grass. Today was the one night a year she was allowed to be anywhere in the mortal world, and she chose to stay in her graveyard. It was deserted. All the others were out, seeing family, visiting relatives, finishing honeymoons. Saerci reached her tomb and sat down on the edge, she always found Halloween a bit much. She kicked her feet out playfully and the mist from the ground swirled up around her, she giggled and watched as it dispersed, settling back into its brooding home among the grass. Saerci reached out and touched a rose that had grown up the side of her tomb, there were dozens of them now - if only she could remember who had planted them. She loved her roses, but she only got to see them once a year, on Halloween. She never picked them. They had such a short life, everything has such a short life, but particularly roses. Saerci bent down to the rose and shed a tear, letting it fall perfectly in the centre, on a petal. A misty white drop on a perfect red rose. Until the next year.

Eggs. Flour. Milk. Honey. Eggs. Flour. Milk. Honey?? Shit. Shit. Why did I add the honey - That was meant to be for the end. I open the cutlery drawer to find a spoon. I need to get the honey out, it can still be saved. The drawer is stuck. It’s jammed by a tea towel. The honey is starting to sink into the milk and eggs, and the tip of the flour mountain in the bowl is beginning to cave. I’m yanking at the tea towel and it’s not coming out. I look to the kitchen bench, which has now become my tool bench. Dirty measuring cups are upturned and spilling remnants of milk and flour over the table. Two egg shells sit in a little puddle of egg whites and a dusting of flour is sprinkled all over the black bench top. The scales are balanced precariously on the edge of the sink and a little team of dirty spoons sit abandoned next the the mixing bowl. Wait - spoons! I pick up the nearest spoon dive in to rescue the honey. It drips off the spoon and I catch it with my other hand, reaching for the next spoon. It takes all 3 spoons and dirtying both hands but finally the mixing bowl is honey free. I dump the spoons into the sink and glance at the recipe. Step 6: Add the honey

Icy wind whipped around Alessia’s face, her whispy hair plastering sporadically to her face. She extended a hand and touched one, hanging down ominously from the ceiling of the cave. It was cold to the touch. Freezing, in fact. It was also wet. A drop of icy cold water ran down Alessia’s hand and up her sleeve. She shivered slightly but kept her hand where it was. It was sharp too, she touched the end with the tip of her finger and admired the distorted view of her little cold finger through the ice. Marcus sure was taking his time. She moved her hand to the next icicle. It was slightly bigger and slightly colder - or so it felt. Alessia ran her tongue around her mouth, she noticed that she was thirsty, but didn’t have any water. She moved her hand to the next one, she was nearing the back of the cave now and somehow it felt warmer - probably because she was out of the wind. Marcus would find her. She reached the next one and ran her hands down it, a rather large one. She leant forwards and licked the water off the cold ice. That was exactly what she needed. She knealt down to reach the tip and let the slowly melting ice run off into her mouth. She stayed there while it slowly dropped into her mouth, the indulgence of the freezing water quenching her thirst. “Alessia?” Alessia spun around “Marcus… hi… nice to meet you” damn.