Good evening you most wonderful being of the twilight, these hours that we inhabit are the ones that are bring the most tantalizing things. The darkness on the edge of the forest reaches out to find the next ray of light. The mounting things are forever lost in the caverns of the night, They hold the greatest stories and the darkest tales of heros who never saw old age, only the howls of wind that the trees sing too. The background of the mounting madness is not in the mind of the crazed or the simple minded. It is in the very breath of fog that only comes with the cold that seeks bone to chill. The frost seeking skin to rot and claim, all things are to be harvested by the cold. The Ground holds the dead so close it is a embrace that would claim parts of your soul if you were to try and take the grounds vestiges.

Burned by the cold hands become sore and fingertips are turning dark blue showing the ever-crawling decay become the only thing holding your hand. In its hope that the hand does not notice to soon, the decays hunger is ever so grewsome yet so honest. It is the lack of heat and lack of defined life, that the night embraces it so wholly. It is ever so wonderful to see such things.

The night is just the place I like to be for it is honest and true to the words it speaks become the feverish glow of the distant stars, it is all so wonderful, all so refreshing.

Until Later

Much Love

Your Friendly Ginger From The Woods.