By Margaret Lucke
This is the week that includes Halloween. On that evening small witches and warlocks and all matter of costumed creatures go up to homes where jack-o-lanterns glow on the doorstep. They ring the doorbell and ask for candy. At our house the witching hour on this past Tuesday night ran from around six pm, when a tiny Spiderman arrived, to about nine, when the last crew of witches departed, the candles in the pumpkins sputtered out, and we turned the porch light off. I wasn't sure whether to be glad or sorry that we still had some candy left.
Most nights, though, the witching hour comes later and the forces it unleashes are more mysterious. It comes into play in the book I'm currently writing, whose working title is House of Shadows. The subject comes up at the opening of chapter two:
Three a.m. The witching hour.
Claire Scanlan slid open the glass door to her apartment balcony and stepped into the cold, still air.
Some folks claimed midnight was the witching hour, but Claire preferred the tradition that said it was three in the morning. Plenty of people were still awake and active at midnight, and by six a.m. they were rising to greet the new day. Three o'clock, the deepest point in the night, the moment when almost everyone had surrendered to sleep and was paying the least attention—this was when the forces of magic seemed most likely to emerge and do their work.
The witching hour has long intrigued authors. Here are the thoughts of a few of them.
* * *
"The witching hour, somebody had once whispered to her, was a special moment
in the middle of the nightwhen every child and every grown-up was in a deep deep sleep,
and all the dark things came out from hiding and had the world all to themselves."
— Roald Dahl, The BFG
* * *
Tis the witching hour of night,
Or bed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen—
For what listen they?
— John Keats, A Prophecy
* * *
"It's the witching hour once more–
When the Muse comes out to play.
He calls me through that magic door–
Where galaxies of worlds await!"
— Belle Whittington, Cicada
* * *
"At the witching hour, the city was totally silent. Only the wind of portent blew
through the gathered council of whispering brick chimneys on the rooftops,
delivering the hand that would write upon the wall."
— Wyatt Michael, Revenge of the Wolf
* * *
"The witching hour, people used to call it, that dark time when restless spirits
reached for freedom."
— Victoria Schwab, This Savage Song
What does the term "the witching hour" evoke for you?
What does the witching hour mean to me? Well, I can think of a lot of things, Peggy, especially some fetching witches that have made their appearance. Happy belated Halloween.
Posted by: Michael A. Black | November 03, 2017 at 07:52 AM
Oh, I'd like to hear more about those fetching witches, Michael. Sounds like story material.
Posted by: Margaret Lucke | November 07, 2017 at 03:36 PM