Remember, remember, the fifth of November.
It must have been the ugliest pinata ever.
Since we were a young coven (36 now, and going strong), the Fifth Day of Samhain has for us been a night when magic and politics meet.
It's been a mild autumn, so we gathered in the back yard—gold above, gold below—to bless the leftover Halloween candy.
Then we cut a hole in his neck and stuffed in the sweets.
Gods, that orange hair.
U-G-L-Y.