Dear Diary and Lost Souls,
With the waning gibbous moon as my alchemical companion, I brewed potions in the witching hour. My attire consisted of a blood-red robe embroidered with moon phases, a symbol of my connection to the night sky.
In the witch's kitchen, I concocted elixirs that would infuse Halloween with magic. A dash of bat wing powder and a sprinkle of graveyard soil - the potion was taking shape. Every drop was a promise of enchantment.
Until the morrow, Wednesday