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The Night

I hear the night, crawling on my skin with owls hooting and birds chirping. The stream is flowing fluently with swiftness and the gentle breeze is giving be goose bumps on my arms. For what I see in front of me is no more than a black void of darkness, and ‘tis creating an opaque curtain that I cannot see past. For what is to come this night? There is not a soul that knows.





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