I. The Ever Vigilant Mascara Lined Eye

After an evening in attendance at the Chicago Symphony, Prim studied the cheerful and inviting Tannenbaum glowing in the upper room window of his regular weekend haven on Belmont Avenue. Once inside, he felt even more inspired by the bar's Art-deco design, royal purple hues, alternative music video screen, black and white photographic artwork and especially that ever vigilant mascara lined eye. Prim danced into the small hours in unison with the perspiring, undulating masses. Yet, there were revenants there. Seated at the bar, plain and waxy entities vibrated violently in and out of real time, a white masked bartender in a tuxedo slowly drew slick, black mucinous strings through swollen, bleeding lips. One of the dancers advised, "You must live in the now and not let anything stop you from any new experiences." They sat together at the petite, round marble table, occasionally conversing with the doorman who was a great lover of all kinds of music. The new acquaintance of the elucidator of the eerie knew just what he needed to ease any further trepidation; she placed a fiver in the VJ's basket, and a jazz tune filled the dance floor. There was something about the sultry freedom of the wild beat that awakened their collective memories. The spirit of joviality enriched this place. A well respected and beloved grim-scribe once advised that "horror is the removal of masks," and here it was somehow . . . always Halloween. "I never danced as hard and long before!" she exclaimed. "Now, we can! My name's not Bernice . . . it's Zelda!"