A playlist for the creepiest and most candied one-twelfth of the calendar.

 

A collection of invocations whispered to what lies beyond a flash of tapetum lucidum. So arises the sun’s shimmering sister; dewy red currents running from ragged gashes; nightshade and grain; gourds the color of the day’s end; crushed seeds; the crisp, veiny organs of trees; and the onset of mosquitoes and their killers’ velvet wings. Wax melts; wicks dissolve into dust.

The call of the forest reverberates through the windowpane as the night seeps in, beckoning dread. 

Curated by print editor Vincent McDonald, this playlist is for the creepiest and most candied one-twelfth of the calendar. 

Photo by Carlton Ward. •