Alice Spills the Tea: All Hallow’s Eve 🫖
Gather 'round, my little trick-or-treaters, because I’ve got a tale for you that’ll chill your bones and make you reconsider your plans for the next All Hallow’s Eve. Now, we all know the usual stuff... pumpkins, costumes, candy, and that delightful chill in the air - but this story, oh, it’s something different. Something darker. Something that slithers under the skin like a spider weaving its web.
Let me spill the tea, darlings, on the true origin of All Hallow’s Eve—before it became just another excuse to gorge on sugar and get spooky.
The night itself was never meant to be just a harmless celebration. No, no. It was birthed from something far more spooky, something ancient, something that still lingers beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to rise again.
Long, long ago, before the candy, before the costumes, there was a night where the veil between the living and the dead was thin—so thin that it could be sliced with a single sharp breath.
It was the night the spirits of the dead could roam freely, slipping into the mortal world to reclaim what they had lost: their bodies, their memories, and, most of all, their souls.
You see, All Hallow’s Eve—known back then as the Night of the Wraiths—wasn't just a time of celebration. It was a night of sacrifice.
The witches of the time, those powerful, ancient creatures, knew that the only way to protect the living was to make an offering—a blood sacrifice to appease the restless spirits of the dead. A promise, if you will. But not just any promise. The offering had to be pure. A soul, freshly taken, was placed on the altar, and in return, the spirits would spare the village from their wrath.
Now, don’t get too smug thinking this is all just some history lesson, darling. The thing is, some spirits never went back. Oh, they were offered a taste, but once they had a sip of that sweet, bitter essence—once they felt that rush of power—they refused to go. They became bound to the night itself.
These spirits are still out there. Hiding in the shadows, lurking in the corners of the world, waiting for the day they’ll be free to feast once more.
Ever wonder why, on All Hallow’s Eve, you feel that tingle in the air? That creeping, crawling sensation on the back of your neck when the wind picks up just right? That's not your imagination, darling. Those restless souls, those wraiths, are close.
And let me tell you about the most famous of them—the one who never truly left. The one who is always present, even in the smallest flicker of a candle or the rustle of leaves. The Wraith King.
The Wraith King wasn’t always a king. No, no, he was once a humble mortal man, a powerful warlord whose thirst for conquest was only rivaled by his desire for immortality. He sought the witches’ magic, desperate to carve his name in history, to live forever. And on that fateful All Hallow’s Eve, he bargained with them. Oh, darling, you know how deals with witches go.
He was granted the immortality he so craved, but at a cost. His soul was never truly his own anymore. It became part of the spirit realm, bound to the night forever. His body rotted, his flesh decayed, but his spirit remained, a hollow, angry thing, unable to escape.
Every All Hallow’s Eve, he rises—just for a moment, long enough to haunt those who dare call his name. The bravest— or perhaps the most foolish—might even challenge him, daring to summon his wraith with a single whispered word.
But here's the thing, darling: if you call his name, he'll answer. He’ll come to you, cold and silent, with eyes that glimmer like dying embers. He won’t speak. Not at first. He'll just stand there, watching, until you realize that something's wrong—something's missing.
That’s when he’ll take it.
The Wraith King doesn’t care about your candy or your costumes. No, darling, he's come for something far more valuable. He’ll steal your memories, your dreams, and the very essence of your soul.
It’s said that if you ever find yourself in his presence on All Hallow’s Eve, you shouldn’t run. You shouldn’t scream. You shouldn’t even blink. If you do, he'll have you, body and soul.
And that, my dear, is the true spirit of All Hallow’s Eve.
So, while you're out there trick-or-treating, while you're laughing and reveling in the darkness, remember this: the Wraith King is always watching. And if you’re unlucky enough to cross his path, he may just claim your soul as his final gift for the night.
Happy All Hallow's Eve, my darlings. Don’t forget to leave a light on. You might need it.
