Gargoyle

You narrow your eyes against the horizon. The cathedral rises from the hilltop like some ancient beast—its basalt spires, like jagged teeth, pierce the indigo throat of dawn, as if feasting upon the sky. Morning drapes the world in the dying chill of October, its final sigh haunting the air like a ghost. The skeletal leaves skitter across rooftops in a brittle ballet, whispering of your return. You have always been here. For centuries, perhaps longer, poised on the cathedral’s precipice— a still shape carved against the skyline. Below, the village exudes warmth. The hearth smoke spiraling from brick chimneys, laughter meandering through alleys like a fading chorus. Life pulses in color down there. But here, there is only stillness. Your unblinking eyes, forever wide and watching, take it all in—the blush of summer sun, the softness of snow, the thousand storms that pulse like veins around you. Rain and wind kiss your stone frame like blood and breath, and bring an aching, eternal murmur, a promise, not yet spoken, of what’s to come. Halloween. It never arrives all at once. First, it’s just a whisper—a sudden blade of wind slicing between your teeth on a warm afternoon. A single green leaf, unseasonably bold, rising against gravity and landing on your stone foot— its rim blushed crimson, marking the first cut on a slow-bleeding tree. You watch the world begin to smolder. Every leaf kindling slowly into sparks, the red and orange fire licking through canopies, spilling down into lawns and settling along the gray veins of the road. And then, in the open fields, the orange orbs awaken— lifted from soil, hollowed with care, carved, and lit from within by the borrowed breath of a flame. And still, you wait. Until at last, the season falls— like stars unhooking themselves from a velvet night sky. You feel it settle into your form, this presence both fleeting and eternal. Something shifts, your stone shoulders sigh. The old cracks soften. Joints loosen. Your wings twitch— hesitant, before stretching wide for the first time in a year. Dust falls in slow cascades, you cough incense smoke, lichen peels away like years, weather slides off like a shed skin. And the wind— that wild, spiced wind— rushes to greet you. Cool, alive, and knowing— you are awake… I am currently working on a new illustrated book of 31 Halloween meditations and the above text is a small portion from “Gargoyle”. The second listing photo is an illustration by my very talented artist friend Brenda Luyten! You can also find her painting flowers here: https://www.etsy.com/shop/thepaintingfae My hope is that you might read (and see) it and FEEL it— feel the wind as you sit on the precipice of a cathedral on Halloween, the wonder and smells and feelings that await once your stone wings carry you off into the night! Or I at least *hope* you enjoy it… BE the gargoyle— enjoy reading about the gargoyle… same thing! Anyway, you’ll have to wait to see what happens next. Until then, I’ve crafted a scent to keep us occupied. I’ve been wearing this since the cold weather began and it’s becoming my favorite. Black cardamom sparks like a match struck in the dark— spiced, electric. Sandalwood rises from ancient beams and weathered cathedral pews. Tobacco leaf and inky black cherry mischievously dance in a haze of dark musk. Honeyed leather clings to stone wings, casts shadows upon rooftops. Vanilla bean and roasted marshmallow drifts upward from backyard fires. This is gothic and shadowy, yet sweet, uplifting, and wondrous scent! A little bottle of magic I say! :)