It was dull and grey.

It had rained that morning, and it only stood to fortify the feeling of that particular day. They sat in folding chairs out in the damp grass. People put pumpkins on grave markers in order to make the cemetery look festive, at least, as festive as cemeteries go.

The old man was in the front. His black coat worn tight. He was loud and animated. He was a fire and brimstone type, because some of the family of the deceased were the fire and brimstone type themselves. In fact, the minister thought it was an insult to have to do this on this particular day. He said he wouldn’t go out on a pagan holiday.

The family made it known that they would provide a donation to his church. The man retracted his earlier reservations, and he lead the funeral. This did not however, keep him from commenting on the pagan relics he had to see about in town.

Another man sat in the back smiling. Like the minister, he was wearing all black, though his clothes were a touch more stylish. His black hair made him look younger, but his face was worn, and he had eyes that had seen too much. His hooked nose gave him a threatening appearance, but his smile was warm. He sat and smiled and patiently watched the minister and his ministrations.

The minister was pounding his bible quoting from it without looking. About half the people in the audience nodded their head; the other half patiently waited for it to be over. He denounced the day, and the pagans and he called it the devil’s day.

Finally, the man in the back stood. He walked towards the front.

The minister stopped talking, “Excuse me sir, this is a funeral.”

“I am a quite a aware of what ceremony is,” the man had a heavy Irish brogue, “I’ve seen far too many of them.”

“Sit back down and let me finish,” the minister said.

“I can’t do that,” the black haired man said, “don’t you know who I am?”

“You’re interrupting.”

“My name is Samhain.” The more knowledgeable members there murmured to the less informed that Samhain was the father of Halloween

“That’s not funny,” the minister, “you’ll be struck down for impersonating a pagan.”

“Who said anything about impersonating?”

The black haired man lifted his arm and the casket started shaking. People started screaming. People started to run but they realized they were surrounded by ghostly figures.

“The devil’s work,” the minister said.

“We’ve been through this. Not the devil. Samhain. And, I’ve come for my souls.” He dropped his arms and the apparitions surrounding the funeral rushed in.

They started with the minister.