A Samhain Short Story
The Veil thinned each year because She willed it. It was that simple. When She no longer wished spirits to cross from one side of it to the other, She would cease it’s thinning.
Her preparations for this year’s Veil crossing had begun with the passing of the Equinox, when Her sister, the Lady of the Heavens, lost her grip on the precarious balance of light and dark she had wrought. And with that passing, She, the Lady of the Veil, gained in strength.
Each day She watched as the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead changed from hard stone to threads of gossamer, and as they approached the days out of time, the days between the years, it was more akin to wispy, insubstantial smoke.
Her magic was working. It would not be long now.
Around her She gathered Her people of Spirit, who had spent the days since the last Thinning in the Summerlands, a place of mist, a place of magic, and on occasion, a place of mischief also, for the dead like to interfere in things that don’t concern them just as much as the living.
She knew it was time, knew when her spell had worked, when the Veil was no longer visible, even to her Divine eyes. Then, and only then, could they cross.
In silence they waited, full of anticipation.
Many would soon be reunited with loved ones, even if it was for only a short time. An evening spent in the comfort of the hearth and home they had been forced by nature to leave behind was not only something to look forward to, but something to celebrate, for it was on this one night of the year that they could achieve true interaction with the living, whether the individual was attuned to the energies of Spirit or not.
However, there were others present and awaiting the Crossing with darker thoughts on their mind. Although one could meddle with the living from the Summerlands, one could not really satisfy feelings of vengeance from there. That too required the thinning of the veil if it was to be done…properly.