Spooky season really brings out the talent.

I had a metric buttload of entries this month, and it was lovely. I had a tough time deciding who would come away with this month's HUGE JACKPOT OF BIGTIME MONEYCASH, but in the end, I went with some new talent here on theprose-dot-com.

Bursting in on the scene with an honorable mention is @CatOnTheCob with an uplifting little tale of family love. https://www.theprose.com/post/771379/my-mothers-funeral

@Ethereality killed it with a tale that made me laugh out loud. https://www.theprose.com/post/771293/the-hole

@FarrellTimlake has been on Prose for a minute, but he got my ANT-tention with https://www.theprose.com/post/770684/the-night-march

THE WINNER, YOU ASK?!? @TaraRoberts impressed me with her culinary delights in https://www.theprose.com/post/772648/the-harvest

I turned on my side, trying in vain to find the elusive position in which I could finally sleep. It wasn't my body that wouldn't cooperate, though, it was the thought of my lost mother that forced my eyes open night after night. I could see in my mind's eye the headlights of the semi growing larger as it approached. They blinded me, then...darkness. I could feel warm tears streak down my face. Then, through my blanket I felt the impression of a hand. There room was empty, save for me, but I wasn't alarmed. Then I rested at last.

Darting quickly out from a shadow's cover, pausing to assess broken terrain littered with detritus. Shards of a green bottle. Wet leaves rotting with mold. Jagged stones and fetid loam. Then, a mad scramble.

Stop. Assess. Find cover. The ant's movement, chaotic yet purposeful, as it scrambles to meet others on a path marked well with venomous pheromones. As they pass along the way, they share the news, communicating dark intentions, ravenous hungers incited along the way.

Drawing closer to the rotting corpse of the child, still undiscovered by its own kind, the ant decides to enter in the ear.