The Halloween Parade 2020

No one expects the parade to happen. This is 2020. The plague year. The year we hunker down, shelter in place, and hope against hope that the empty suits at the top of the table aren’t stupid enough to get us all killed. It’ll pass. These things always do. But this one is taking its time, leaving a mark. So you check in on your loved ones, make sure you’re well stocked, and you settle in to wait it out.

And then the card arrives. Bone-coloured paper. Silian Rail typeface.


No postmark, no letter. Just the card. So you wait. And on the 31st, a shiny silver disk is at the front door. Not inside, not slipped through the letterbox, at the front door.

PseudoPod 729 (full transcript; annotated version)