Advent of Hallowtide, 2024

She pedaled faster as the sun sank lower in the sky, harrumphing at the general darkness of winter. "I suppose it sets the mood," she whispered to the front wheel, dry leaves airborne and crackling in her wake. At the first house, Enna got down off of her bike and stared at the darkened windows and closed door. "It's okay to just rest through this next bit," she said to the house. "Protect your calm." She reached into the wicker basket and pulled out a lily (a single flower fed blessed water through a vial attached to its stem). Enna tied it very gently (bloom facing the house) to the fence with a grey ribbon; she heard it snore softly when she listened in and was relieved. "Why a grey ribbon?" her mother had asked, surprised. "Why not something pretty?" Enna Komoyite hugged her mother tightly. "Some cultures use white to represent death and the afterlife, and some cultures use black," she whispered. "Grey will always be the right choice for anything and everything that's stuck between this place and the next." Enna looked at her bike basket, saw the pile of flowers there, and sighed; it was going to be a busy night and she'd better stay focused.