First ignore their grotesque limbs, with odd proportions twisting in ways that should be impossible, fingers uncountable but somewhere around five, probably, shrinking and growing and long and sharp. Ignore their hooked elbow-like structures always changing, ever-changing, do not watch their shoulders melded into the right sockets and ignore the ripped flesh a little bit lower, like something misplaced.
Second do not look at their faces, so close to correct that it’s uncanny, trying to mimic the shape of humanity yet failing, until their blood-torn smile is seen, dripping with saliva and dirt and some purple-green hue that should not be visible to our naked eyes, yet is, and ignore the hint of something slimy and wrong reaching out from their mouths, tentacle shaped and yet how many there is is best left unknown, gone as they shut their mouth and smile perfectly pleasantly.
Third do not touch them, because as they get close their eyes grow wide in the way of a predator locking onto prey, and they reach hungrily, always hungry for something they do not have, while still, no one knows what happens when they touch, when they take, for all that is left of those brave survivors is this tale without an origin, this warning full of fear, and the way they change when one gets too close, full of curved sharp teeth like the anglerfish in the deep sea, lurking patiently, waiting for a victim.
Fourth do not listen to their lilting voices, the scratching sound not quite hidden by their waves and dismissals, the little oddities in their speech that are sounds incapable of being heard by the human ear, gibberish to anyone else yet their meaning understood perfectly by the intended, and all that is known about what happens next is that the listener forgets their language, forgets how to think until the victims are merely a conduit for them, something for them to talk to, their brain hollowed out into nothing but obedience.
Fifth pay attention to their inhuman actions, the way they seem to have the seeds of batlike wings in their back, or maybe they aren’t, maybe they are not like bats but slimy and dripping and yet solid, maybe this, like many other things, is best left unknown. Remember the way their breath fogs when it shouldn’t, and doesn’t when it should, how sometimes they can chatter and chatter and forget to breathe. Remember that hint of something seen that looked wrong, that hoofprint in the ground, that indent on the pavement, remember even when they say to forget, even when you say to forget.
Sixth agree to no request that they ask, not even the well meaning ones spoken by the inexperienced still with parents to guide them, give noncommittal hums and divert them onto the subject of the Smith family and their woes. They have been speaking of impossibilities, poor things, and watch them weave through the conversation so deftly, off onto how you made that wonderful costume, and you both forget what the original request was, and who needs to know, really?
Seventh say nothing but lies, not even the most banal of truths that they do not already know, for thoughts are what shapes the human, for your thoughts are a mere step away from your emotions, your emotions so close to your truths, your truths to your secrets, your secrets only a little ways away from your soul, that wonderful thing juicy with emotions, good and bad, and what self respecting thing would say no to such a delicious soul ripe for the taking, and whatever fool would do so is already long gone, long overtaken by the hungrier, the more ambitious things that want and want and take, and you must say nothing but lies and yet keep your web straight, give them the truths of someone that doesn’t exist, or better yet, someone who does but is not you, do anything to keep them from you.
Eighth as you notice All Hallow’s Eve is almost over, as you notice the sun rising and you have whittled away your time, do not pay any attention to the sky, the light the illusion of security so you can get lured in, pay no attention to the sky and it will recede back into night, back into the proper time that it should be in, or at least that is how the story goes: ignore the strangeness, and the strangeness will become normal, and yet that phrase is so ambiguous, and before you notice it is once again the afternoon of All Hallow’s Eve ten years ago, and still pay no attention to the strange sky until it stains blood, if it stains blood, and pay no attention to that as well.
Ninth do not let them take you places, for you will be taken away from home, wherever that is, before you know it, into some unfamiliar terrain that is wrong and their home and clearly needs to be escaped, except feet would still be taking you towards the agony, except you would not be able to stop, so do not let them take you beyond the limits of home, no matter how pretty their words seem, no matter how appetizing they sound, for there are many maggots beneath the surface, wiggling around mindlessly for food, do not go anywhere they tell you to, not even those that you feel familiar, like you can find it if you look hard enough, and you will find your feet moving without your permission onto worm-covered grass, slimy and faceless and crawling all over you, making a meal of your ripe flesh.
Lastly, ignore all this advice and go with them if you wish to join the ranks of the not-quite human, the soulless and hungry, with All Hallow’s Eve the only opportunity to ever return to the human world, and only if you find someone to take your place, but would anyone? Well, I was freed, and one thousand years is not too long, not for the hungry.