Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.


By Tina Deason

This season holds mystery and thrill, as the sun fades and the fog clings to the earth. The darkness hides creatures and haunted beings. The empty trees have died for a bit, but plan to return in the spring. The thought of witches casting spells and making potions right out in the open after hiding away for the eleven other months of the year, intrigues me.

The creaking bones of the dead and the soft sound of earth moving as the zombies unearth themselves to rise to life. . .

And Dracula!

I had the most fear of Dracula when I was a kid. I used to slam my hand against the light switch and run up the stairs as fast as my legs could get me to the top. In my mind, I’d hear the basement door below flying open, the sound of thunder and pouring rain, and then, in the flash of lightning, he would be standing on the threshold. Dracula in his black cape with red lining and his white shirt. He’d wear his family medallion and the twinkle of his fang would scare the hell out of me. I could imagine his black polished shoes as he stood there, in the rainiest weather I could dream of, and he waited patiently for me to invite him in.

All of that happened in a split second while I ran to the top of the stairs and opened the door to the main floor of the house. On the other side of the door was a warm, cheery home where no one could get to me. Our house was built by my dad, and so I felt as if the fortress could never be invaded, and old Count Dracula could stand in the rain forever for all I cared.

At least, when I closed the door at the top of the stairs.

Tina Deason lives in Sonoma County, CA. She is a wife, mother, grandma.

She is the author of “One’s Own Sweet Way,” a novel about her daughter’s challenges with debilitating anxiety in high school.

Tina is also a spiritual leader who writes rituals and ceremonies. 

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