It’s currently 5:42 pm, eastern standard, and I am at my day job on the third, top floor of the building. Outside it’s dark. Not just dusk, but full dark. The cars on the highway nearby look like streamers of light, white and red, as they rush by. A bridge connects my building to another, and it spills warm light out of the many windows, looking inviting in the darkness.
I do love the dark, especially in the fall when the leaves are all fallen and the trees begin to look like skeletons, and the lights, oh the lights. I love the city lights, the street lamps, the restaurant signs, the glowing neon beer logos in the windows of the bars. It’s all like magic to me. In the dark anything could be hiding. In the dark, there’s no need to hide who you are.
I have always loved the early darkness, the blanket of inky midnight that cloaks the land from November through January at early hours when you feel the sun should still be up. I love seeing the moon, huge and white in the sky. It’s inspirational. All the best monsters come out at night, after all.
As a certain mad scientist once said, character is what you are in the dark.