Down along the cold creek bed, the lanterns cast dim shadows against the steep, dark banks. It was a pitch-black night. The trees had dropped most of their leaves, and the branches reached out over the flowing water like bony fingers pointing in wild directions. The other men were several hours into the search already, and John Meahl peered desperately into the cold night air. The rocks along the bank, already slippery with moss from the long summer, were now slick as ice with a thick quilt of brown oak, rusty chestnut, and pale yellow maple leaves wet from the clear waters of Murder Creek. One misstep would mean a nasty tumble.

Like children with sharpened sticks for swords, we plow backward into a time when Buffalo still held mystery. When the woods and abandoned buildings around us were places to be explored, magical lands where things existed beyond the realm of day-to-day comprehension. We all have these childhood places locked away, teeming pockets of Zen inside our minds. Let us travel there with swords drawn, our minds open, and our souls willing.

This year, Gregory Lamberson owns Halloween. He’s had a lease on it for awhile anyway. Since relocating to Buffalo from his native Fredonia by way of New York City, the filmmaker and novelist (full disclosure: and occasional contributor to Artvoice) has been responsible for programming a popular series of midnight horror films at the Amherst theater. While enjoying the successful DVD release of his cult classic horror films, especially 1988’s Slime City, he’s been developing other projects based on his lifelong love of horror stories. And this month brings two of them to a bookstore near you.