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Eldritch Thoughts

Alone


The night is empty. A light fog clings to the ground, softening the landscape and turning trees and mountains into a shimmering blur of color. All that is real is the sky, the impossible clarity of the stars, the sheer immensity of the silvered plane of the moon. Here the lines are sharp, here the world comes into focus; the open air and the night breezes have replaced the terrestrial world, have taken hostage an existence filled with worry and concern. It is here, in this world of dream and fantasy, that he searches. He glides through the air, an invisible shadow against the infinite darkness of the starry expanse, trailing silver shimmers of moonlight in his wake. Here the lunar radiance will illuminate a patch of emerald scales, there shine through the crimson membrane of a wing, but he is, as much as is possible, a shade. A phantom that soars through the night sky, searching, longing, despairing.

The swollen moon continues her slow passage across the sky.