Somebody call it "All Hallows Eve". In ancient times it was known as

That's what we call it

It's the end of summer. The night when Samhain, Lord of The Underworld, calls upon the lost and the damned.

There are no boundaries this night. No blocks between other worlds and this one, the one we in our arrogance call reality. This is a night when the borders between the visible and hidden worlds quite simply does not exist.

Maybe they never have. Maybe there isn't any, except in our closed minds.

The dead returns tonight. They visit our small and big huts, and they sit by our fire. Our eyes open wide. All walls come crashing down. We wear so many masks in our daily life. On All Soul's Night we wear only one: Our own. And in the course of The Quiet Darkness that one too will fall. And then there will be none.

The Festival of Samhain starts with the staggering moon and never ends at October 31. We call the dead to us with our passion and hunger, and make them come alive again. We paint their visages in our faces and on our walls. The walls crumble and we remember, wake upp from our long, artificial slumber.

The Children of The Midnight Fire invites you and your long gone ancestors to share and take part in our celebration of Life. And Death and existence... in the widest possible No Way.

This my friends, is a praise to the untamed in each and every human, to the ancient contact between us and nature. We sink up to any sprout of decency and responsibility. If the word «sin» wouldn't have been a christian word, we would have used it, but we're better than that. WE ARE!

We're gods each and every one of us. No more, no less. Anyone who denies that is either an insecure slave or among the most arrogant bastards that have ever lived. (Or both).

This night our godhood shall be realized and let go as the most increbible orgasm. It so happens that we probable have to guard ourselves from drowning. Understand that one as you wish, friend. We don't count ourselves among those creatures that imagine ourselves to be able to describe the indesribable.

We might be just a little bit pretentious here, but we take our chances. Why not? We imagine that the celebration starts off as a volcanic eruption... and then works itself up from there. As we pointed out: No limits.

This year, the first in the time of The Crimson Tide, the staggering moon rises on the night sky on the 311. night. The festival starts then and last the whole week through, 'till The All Soul's Night. The word "week" is by the way also a christian concept, but in this case we choose to ignore it.

- The night is coming. Darkness cometh and everything comes alive. Fireflies float in the moist air. Heat over molten sea. Three clicks to the right, one step over the abyss and we're there. The night is coming. And even cows grow wings. Anything can happen and it so does. It really does. See yourself and your daily surroundings in the cracked mirror. It's about time you take a look. We Children of The Midnight Fire have done so and found ourselves. It feels great, but there is still a lot to see.

Would you know more?

Would you know more?

Would you know more?

Would you know more?

Would you know more?

Would you know more?

I'll not pay a single dime, but...

YES, I Would know more!

NO, I've had more than enough of this bullshit and want to leave my senses behind.