Spooktacular Classics are dried-up chunks of word vomit which I like to regurgitate every time a Halloween Spooktacular event rolls onto the Interwebs scene.

You’ve been warned.
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Ephemeral Mist

It shimmers before me,
Ephemeral,
Mist shrouded by mist.
I reach out, passing through,
Awed by the spectral force.
My hand is cold,
Frozen by droplets
That have no shape,
No form.
Shivers wrack me rampantly,
Yet I am rooted.
The fear subsides,
Followed by calm.
It stares, hollow eyes,
Mouth agape,
Silence.
The night crowds in,
Moonlight filtering,
Passing through the mist,
Illuminating my startled features.
I try to speak,
Garbled words spewing forth
Between trembling lips.
Gusts of wind arise
And the mist shimmers again,
Violently,
As if wracked by seizure.
The ephemeral mist
Dissipates.
I am alone,
Stark naked, bare,
Beneath pale moonlight.