Seth Grahame-Smith is the author of Unholy Night.
I know it’s strange to be thinking about October right now, but whenever I write, in a way that’s always where I am. Growing up in Connecticut, it always held a special place in my heart — “a rare month for boys,” as Ray Bradbury begins Something Wicked This Way Comes.
It was everything: The way the dying leaves clung to tree branches and crunched underfoot. The first wisps of chimney smoke that wafted in the evening air. The promises of free candy and a good World Series. These were the miniature miracles of my 12-year-old life.
Read this story now for free
To continue reading, sign up for our newsletter and get unlimited access to WABE.org
You can select your preferences for news and local content. We will never share your email address. Learn how your newsletter sign-up will support WABE and Public Media