It wasn’t a dark and stormy night but quite the opposite actually. This night seemed different from all other nights that this pair of eyes has ever seen. The clouds on the sky were a few in numbers, and were frolicking unabashedly with the moon. This spectacle was heightened with the rustling of leaves in a measured cadence, when the wind blew past gently. The murmur of the leaves was the only occasion that somehow betrayed the otherwise revelry of the night.
The silent playfulness of this night formed an unusual sighting- it seemed to be a fitting prelude for something ominous on the way. Something that could devastate the mysterious way of this night. Perhaps a storm is brewing somewhere nearby, which is about to spillover at this silent, mysterious night. Then the night, I fear would never be the same. Once the whirlwind that waits on the verge is unleashed, this night would be unlike any other night. So very different. So very more mysterious. And with the change in the spectacle, I fear a spectre could transpire.
I remained there stranded, waiting.