Halloween Haunts: Hallowe’en in a Suburb and in a Library by Kevin J. Wetmore, Jr.

I have spent much of my adult life chasing my drug of choice: the feeling of October in the New England of my childhood. The day gets darker earlier, the air becomes a little crisp like an apple, and, as Ray Bradbury put it, “everything is smoky smelling and the sky orange and ash gray at twilight.”  There is no feeling quite like it and it lasts for a whole month.  My little hometown of Cheshire, Connecticut (“The bedding plant capital of New England!” is its claim to fame) would become the setting of a Stephen King short story …