The Elementary school Halloween parade was progressing nicely – down, around and back up from the park. Scores of princesses and cowboys and little harmless monster characters were filing by. It was splendid weather - nothing chilling about the whole affair. Then . . .
A lone figure appeared atop a grassy knoll just across the street from the school. It was silent, wary. Even the horse stood still, its presence more startling because of its unflinching, unnerving control. The cloaked figure carried a broad sword, intricately and wickedly carved, close to its side.
It was my good luck that I was armed and dangerous myself. I had my trusted 50D Canon with my powerful 24-70 mm ready to shoot. And shoot I did. First at respectful distance. Then, gaining confidence, I approach the thing, winging off better and better shots. It didn’t speak, only reaching out its metal-cold hand in silent warning. Incredibly, I venture to engage in conversation. Would it know English? I would send a print of my favorite shot back to the school with our 4th grade boys. They were in Mr. Clarks class. Or perhaps he would share his mailing address – if Ring-Wraiths had such a thing? “I have a 4th grader in Mr. B’s class.” It spoke!
In reality I found him to be almost jovial, very friendly, obviously full of tender and paternal feelings, a great civic-minded citizen having appeared on other such occasions for the shivering enjoyment of many. This new exchange left me with the only conclusion I could make. Ring-wraiths have been severely misunderstood. But not today. Not here. Not on Halloween.
