Bela Lugosi Slurps Again

The fortnight of seasonal tricks and treats quickly, but stealthily, approaches.
To aid your mayhem quest and spread the cheerful dread I offer this virtual haunted house tour through the cobwebby passages of Dum Luks.
Bela Lugosi fans look here for the tale direct and here for the flourishes and details of incipient verisimilitude which warm the cockles while chilling the spine.
Muse on all the likely comers.
When the hobgobblins and haints depart it will be timely to make our penitient orisions with this carefree ditty.
Yet one dry squib remains to delight as our guide turns on his peg leg to ask a penny for the guy.
As the children's radio show host said: That ought to keep the little bastards. Alas the mic was still on and so that was his last show. Fear not. This omnibus score card is neither final nor farewell.
--ml

Samhain Approaches

Once again the season compels notice of Samhain and the pinnacle of autumn. Here at Dum Luks we like to remember a tale of a haunted house, or retell a second hand story of Bela Lugosi, the fine actor whose talents were most richly rewarded by a bit of romantic tosh called Dracula, a tale, I admit, beloved by all but the most querulous and peevish killjoys. Yet hardly much of a stretch to one of Lugosi's towering abilities.

A click on Samhain among the tag cloud at right will present for your reading pleasure the entirety -- so far -- of Dum Luk's meditations on the season.
As always: for your enjoyment ...
Sweet crabs dance in your cider.
--ml

What the Samhain?

Hereabouts the wind blew in some cold and wet marking the seasonal change that concentrated the Celtic mind:  Samhain! Winter is coming.  Celebrations involved treats of hot cider and fresh apples. Baked goodies were welcome too.
For those not fortunate enough to have a well stocked larder, the event was yet another "oh, Shit!" moment in a long series of assaults on their human dignity. They viewed the aggressive opulence of the well to do with hope of generosity or malice at its denial.
One treat was always available to all who could manage a bit of fire in a shelter out of the wind, a good tale, the scarier the better so that everyone could claim the shivers came from hobgoblins, not the chill air.  "Ooooh," sez Gran tucked up in the old horse blanket, "Someone's just trod on m'grave!"
Follow the link in the title for Dum Luks' previous seasonal contributions. Both the joys and frights are observed -- can Bela Lugosi be far behind? No, sez I.
--ml