The sun has gone and the fairies have lit the stars

The man on the moon the biggest of all, smiling down upon the sleeping village with a slightly villainous glare

Soon the night children will come out to play, huddling over a bottle of blood with hushed voices.

And the good children will join them, wanting to fit in with their strange ways.

In the corner of an alley the werewolf will wait, wanting to slumber but instead making deals to destroy and tare

And unaware to all the leaders will be in the house above, bending over scripts of sinister topics not meant for man.

In the cemetery the dead will wake, yawning and grumbling about early evenings and long nights

And walking by the sceptics will feel the goose bumps rising on their colorless arms, taking it only for the suddenly chilly night.

And all around the devils will feast, trying to suck the feeling from the loved and adored so they too will sparkle with shining eyes and glossy hair.

But soon a battle will happen and the sun will rise once more, sending the moon to sulk behind its glow.

And all will go back to being realistic.