The soft flowing air rustling the trees blew over me. My flesh in goosebumps, my breath caught in my throat, my shirt and hair swaying: Night, I saw the night come in upon its horse. Soft night rode in, his dark mare stamping out the last warm glows of the sun beneath her hooves.
The stars then shone earnestly in that moonless heaven, that cloudless sky, that wonder which captures men’s souls. I knew not whether life left me then, but like a dead man I was mute, unmoving, my gapping eyes unblinking. Yet it was I still could see.
Tale Told 