Friday in Greek is Paraskevi, or 'preparation'. Are you prepared for the onslaught of scary kiddies? Here are a few tales to put you in the mood.
Your
Daily Warning That
Halloween
Is Coming
by Tavaron da Quirm
Tavaron's kids went off to the castle with
their grandpa. They brought us back this seasonal photo.
You gave the world a lot of pleasure, and some food for thought. We will miss you, and we're sure the dogs will, too.
Here's a word from him, because I think he would have liked us to remember him this way.
Scary
Story I:
Malice
by FWR
A blast
from the past from our resident specialist in spooky stories.
Joe Tunn smiled to himself, pulling his matted
fur collar closer against the gorgeously damp cold.
A quick re-read to ensure he had been as
upsetting as he possibly could (and Odin knew he could be positively vile on a
good day) and allowed his tail to hover deliciously over the enter key.
Joe allowed himself a moment of reflection,
just to make sure his intended slurs were totally unjustified.
The article had been quite well-written,
punctuation a little off, but, on the whole, quite a witty piece of writing.
He'd enjoy this one. His prehensile tail
circled with a flourish before gleefully hitting send.
By the Allfather, Joe loved the Web, and, as
his dear old wickedly horrible mother used to say, every Web needs a spider!
Something to prey on the weak and unaware,
someone to torment and injure, someone to devour the hopes and dreams of the
potentially talented.
Why create when it was easier (and a lot more
fun) to destroy?
Why be polite and supportive, when a few
well-placed lines of ugliness could demonstrate your superior wit and
intellect?
Why appreciate someone's efforts when a link to
other, better works could sting and wound delightfully?
Why wait for the unaware to cross his fetid
path, when the Internet provided billions of unsuspecting targets?
His laptop binged cheerfully.
Oh good! He snarled at the perfectly nice
image, well composed, nice light, lovely tones… his fangs dribbled acid into
his beards, YupYup, he'd have fun ripping this one to bits!
Yes, Joe loved the Web, loved being needlessly
vicious and cruel, loved the damp aloneness in which he existed, loved feeling
superior to countless souls he'd never even meet, Joe Tunn, above all else,
absolutely loved being a troll.
Guest Ghost
by Galaxy
Babe
Some
time ago, my partner Andy visited Ulverston, birthplace of Stan Laurel of
Laurel & Hardy fame. He visited the house where Stan was born, then stopped
by their statues for a photo opportunity. As he was waiting for passers-by to
disperse so they wouldn’t be in the way of a great photo, the air suddenly got
cold, and by the time the coast was clear, it was decidedly chilly, even though
the sun was shining brightly. Happy with his clear photo, Andy was surprised
upon uploading it to find it smudged, or so he thought. Upon closer inspection,
he cried out loud: 'What is that?' There appears to be a figure, between the
two statues, a ghostly image, kind of blurred, wearing a bowler hat, taller
than Stan, slimmer than Ollie, although Ollie did lose an awful lot of weight
towards the end of his life...
The Devil Went Down to Padua
By DG
Editor's Notes: Kunkel's
Musical Review was a large-format music periodical published in St Louis,
Missouri, in the 1870s and 1880s. For 25 cents, it boasted, you got $3.50 worth
of sheet music. The 1882 issue I've just been given contains a number of
forgettable songs and one certified hit, 'Kathleen Mavourneen'. All of the
songs that are in German have been translated into English, and all of the
English-language songs have German lyrics provided. There are also stories
about musical celebrities. My issue contains this story, suitable for Halloween.
The
Devil Went Down to Padua
Giuseppe Tartini, the founder of the brilliant
Paduan school of violinists, was born at Pirano in 1692, and died at Padua in
1770. At the age of about twenty, after having obtained some renown as an able
fencer and duelist, he became a victim to the tender passion, the object of his
adoration being a young lady who was related to Cardinal Cornaro, bishop of
Padua. He married her clandestinely, but the marriage was soon noised abroad,
and, on the one hand, his own parents, highly incensed, withdrew the regular
allowance they had made him (he was then a student at law of the University of
Padua), and on the other the cardinal lodged against him a complaint of
abduction and seduction.
Warned of his danger, Tartini fled toward Rome,
leaving his wife in Padua, and took refuge with a near relative who was a monk
and Prior of a monastery at Assisi. Tartini spent two years in concealment
here, and whiled away his time by the ceaseless study of the violin. The
organist of the monastery, who was a fine musician, also initiated him into the
mysteries of harmony and composition.
An accident divulged his whereabouts. Upon a
holiday he was playing a violin solo in the choir of the church, when a gust of
wind blew aside the curtain which concealed him from the public gaze. An
inhabitant of Padua, who chanced to be in the church, recognized him and
divulged the secret of the place of his concealment. In the two years that had
elapsed, however, the bishop of Padua had cooled down and Tartini was allowed
to return and again join his wife, who during all this time had been ignorant
of his whereabouts. Shortly afterwards he left Padua for Venice, taking his
wife with him. THere he heard the celebrated Florentine violinist Veracini. The
bold play of this famous virtuoso astonished him, and revealed to him the great
possibilities of his instrument. Not wishing to cope with this artist, whose
superiority he immediately recognized, he left Venice on the morrow, sesnt his
wife to his brother at Pirano, and withdrew to Ancona, where he began a new
course of study. He created for himself a new method, and, by means of constant
observations, established the fundamental principles of the art of bowing which
have since served as a basis for the modern schools of bowing. His persistent
and intelligent labors soon made of him the best violinist of his age. Absolute
accuracy of pitch, a broad and pure tone, a free and bold style of bowing, and
a wonderful technique, joined to an incomparable boldness and elegance of
style, were the characteristics of his playing.
Tartini became a prolific composer of concertos
and sonatas, the most famous of which is doubtless the one entitled 'The
Devil's Sonata'. The history of this composition was told by Tartini himself to
Lalande, the astronomer, who gave it to the public in the following words:
'One night, in 1713,' said he, 'I dreamt that I
had made a compact with the devil, and that he was in my service; all my
undertakings succeeded completely, my wishes were anticipated and, indeed,
always surpassed by the services of my new servant. I took it into my head to
hand him my violin to see whether he would succeed in playing me fine tunes;
but great was my astonishment when i heard a sonata so strange and beautiful,
executed in so superior and artistic a style that I had never even imagined anything
that couldb e compared to it. I was so much surprised and pleased that I lost
my breath. I was awakened by this violent sensation. I immediately took up my
violin, hoping to remember and note down a part, at least, of what I had just
heard, but it was in vain. The piece I then composed is doubtless the best I
ever wrote, and I still call it 'The Devil's Sonata'; but it is so far beneath
what had so impressed me that I should have broken my violin and forsworn music
forever, had I been able to make a living otherwise.'
You're dying to hear this now, right? I'm
warning you: musical tastes were different in 1749. Here it is.
You might prefer to hear Charlie Daniels instead.
The goblins
will get you if you don't watch out,
Dmitri
Gheorgheni, Editor
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