Oak River Township - Masquerade 09

	Yee-haw! Janet Howe's costume isn't really a surprise to those of us in Oak River -- her ranch, just outside of town, has been run singlehandedly for years now, even after the speculation that no woman could take care of horses as well as a team of hardworking ranch-hands. Just goes to show how underestimating Oak River women is a dicey proposition. dusty saddle leather and an innocent creamy peach.
	I still haven't quite figured out who's under that sheet, though Ethel Forrester swears she heard the voice of her long-departed mother come from under its cotton folds with the faded flowers on it. Then again, Ethel Forrester smells a little bit like she might have spiked the punch, so her assertations might be a little suspect. an ethereal blend of tart green apple, musky fear, and a zing of haunted woods.
	Little Janey Louise up and grew up on us, I think. I've heard tell that she's in danger of becoming a crazy cat lady (she's got six of the little boogers), but to look at her in that turtleneck catsuit, I think her reputation might be more in question than her sanity. Way to go, Janey... feral passionflower and earthy musk with a drizzle of purring amaretto.
	The Oak River Costume Shop and Video Store was looking pretty sparse when I was there last night trying to suss out who would be wearing what, but I remember seeing this kid-sized costume still sitting on the shelves. (It might be an all-ages event, this Masquerade, but the general consensus was that leaving the kids with the sitter might make for a fun night away.) Looks like someone may not quite fit in her costume. sweet like innocent youth -- vanilla-soaked brownie pie and a side of irish coffee.
	Did you ever meet Karen Werner? No, no. Don't stare. She's diminutive. Story has it that she got hit by lightning when she was five and stopped growing, and she spent most of her time in junior high trying to figure out what her superpower might be. (She has older brothers. Comic books and all. Corruptive influence, those.) Now she just assumes that one day they'll manifest, and runs the local wedding chapel, where she's often mistaken for the flowergirl. That girl can give a shin-kick like nobody's business. citrus-touched mandarin oranges, spiced and sugared, with lavenderflowers to ground it.
	Now there's some creativity for you. I think that's Elinor Jones under that punkin' mask. She's always been a crafty one, that one. Her yard's always decorated to the nines for Halloween, and this looks like it might be a repurposed decoration. Scary, but not really. Cute, but not really. It's the stripey tights. Stripey tights tell a story. And that Elinor's a storyteller. creaking wooden steps and a sugared jack o'lantern flickering light and filled with candy.
	Well, now. Here's some little bit of juicy right here. Sandra Meadows was one of three girls up for September Princess this year, but she lost out to Gracie Means. (Who may also be here tonight, fulfilling her duties as the Oak River September Princess. Smiling, waving, looking autumnal...you know the drill.) Sandra did not take it well, I hear. There were rumors of threats and tears, but now she's here looking fabulous and elaborate, as one would expect from a four-time contender for Miss Washington County. She may not be Miss Congeniality, but she's definitely magical tonight. a dancing blend of bluebonnets and white flowers, steeped in spiced cider.
	I read those books...you know, the ones by Lovecraft. And I can see how a girl like Lainey Day, with her penchant for marine biology, might get into them. There is such a thing as taking it a bit too far, however. Did that tentacle just move? an ozonic blend of the waters of five shores, and an insane shot of crushed fig.
	Nobody's really sure what to make of Tiffany Lee. Her mother's from fine stock, and her father still runs the town council when he's not busy running the farm. If you asked me, which you didn't, but it's what I'm here for tonight, she's too pretty with too much time on her hands. Neither here nor there. The point is that she's quiet and smells like mint, and old Harlan Winter still maintains that when she visited his son, all the cats at his place disappeared for a day, and butterflies descended en masse. I told him it was from the Monarch migration, but he said it didn't explain his cats. Can't tell some people anything. untoasted tobacco leaves, heady spanish moss dripping from an old oak, and a sparkling mint spell being woven amid the green.
	We told the mayor that hiring that big-city card reader was going to be a bad idea. And even when the Lutherans threatened to boycott, the Mayor was insistent. So here she is, reading palms and a deck of old cards, telling folks about what they already know the future's going to look like. Granted, she did tell me that I'd finally learn how to use that newfangled computer thingie, so it isn't all bad. distant campfires behind a base of herbs and spices to facilitate divination.
	Jackie Lynn Woods, I think. It's hard to tell, under that papier-mache contraption she's got on her head. She claims it's a bird, but the consensus is that she looks like an alien, which she's also okay with. She does this every year. And it's better than last year's masquerade rendition of a Picasso. I still have the image of that girl's eye somewhere around her shoulder. I'm just sayin'. an eclectic, bright blend of pear and blackberry teas, sprinkled with lemon zest, and served in a metal birdbath.
	Grace is living up to both her name and her title tonight. She's endured the mayor's speech, shaken a few hands, and listened to countless stories of the beginning of harvest season, all while maintaining her beatific smile and gentle countenance. We done good this year, Oak River. She's a beautiful girl. the essence of autumn -- turned earth of harvest and chameleon leaves and twigs, brightened with a jolt of orange and red to commemorate the passing of the season.
	You can always tell which girls aren't from around here, and Bettie Cook ain't from around here. Who wears a bikini to a costume party, anyway? Girls who ain't from around here, that's who. decadence incarnate - black forest cake served with a glass of champagne.

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