The Gate is dead, long live The Gate.

So passes another season of the 13th Gate, among the greatest of America's haunted houses. We who work there must have strong hearts and will, for it asks much of us, but so to us does it give much to us: a soul-camaraderie, a delirious glee, pride in striking unbridled fear into the hearts of customers. Truly, it is a boon for those willing to accept and appreciate it.

This year, it almost broke me. My body grew weary, my steps faltered; for a time, I was laid low. Though I am not yet what I once was, I rallied back to carry out the end of an era, to help hoist the show over its final edge. Well, until next year at least.

Seriously though, it was a great year and I had a lot of fun, but I will greatly enjoy having spare time again, and finally getting to do all of those things that I had to put off wistfully until "after the Gate." Like having other friends. Or sleeping. It may, however, be difficult to suppress the manic miming, twirling, etc. that has become a habit--I find myself moving through the Chimes like it was the mirror maze, which is possibly hazardous, and inadvertently sneaking up on people. Also giggling silently with exaggerated gestures, which I may never in fact stop doing.

So, scare ya later!