The moon, like a queen with her court, presided over the Halloween festivities.

The roller coaster, known as the Hurricane, fared badly against the real thing.

"There's a special place in Hell for you, preacher," the shaggy-haired hobo shouted at the man who stood behind the pulpit, a man whose life of depravity was well known, but never mentioned in public.

The villagers considered the murder in the graveyard on the eve of the Day of the Dead a very sick joke indeed. 

Even at 93 the old firebrand still managed to piss off the authorities and split his time between jail and the retirement home.

The wind shook the shutters, the rain pelted the roof.

He was terrified by the power of language, having seen murder trials and marriages turn on just one or two ill-placed words.