The hour is late...
All is dark all is quiet the hour is late and I should be tired but strangely enough I feel excited. Darkness fuels my mind's desire to wonder free amongst the ghosts of things that were and are no more, things now lost. So with eyes closed I walkup and down the curling stairs trying to sense where spirits dwell, knowing I am nowhere near heaven and perhaps too close to hell, The window that adorns the stairs' side wall, running along its entire length, features scenes of darkened skies filled... Sign in to see full entry.