The Blue Hour

Spirits play hide-and-seek twenty-two minutes past midnight. Starlight casts a cold blue glow across a frozen lake as snowflakes stitch together patterns upon its surface. From the blue abyss, spirits rise into their lace veils to wed the night, and with blue lips and fingers, they caress the howling wind. Silhouettes float like fairies over naked branches, collecting gossamer and frost to adorn their crowns. And in this blue hour, shadows materialize and dissolve as clouds do in the light of the silver moon. Approaching and separating; cross-roads form and fracture between the shifting skies and rippling waters, leaving bridges of ice only spirits can cross. From afar, night creatures yearn to join the procession, and in the chill of the night, some drift to follow the last silhouettes, in dreams and in eternal sleep.


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