It’s just one of those nights. I answer a call that could be for my ears only, or a figment of my imagination gone wild. Instinct or madness, in these cases, I never know.
It’s dark, the night is well on its way. Moonlight finds it hard to penetrate the band of pine trees that guard the path that I walk. They stand there as if they have given an oath.
Their silence is strong and protective, not at all like the silence of the night. It issues a threat, and even those benevolent creatures of the dark decide not to let you know. You are on your own.
Solitude is not something you would yearn for in a place like this, but you still feel a slight disgust at the thought of someone holding your hand. This darkness, this powerful silence – it soon becomes something you want to swallow up, all on your own.
To resist the temptation – is it instinct or madness – in these cases, I never know.
Spirit of Tara 