The Shadow Hour
Tonight, my dark queens and dark kings summer has arrived. The air hangs heavy and hot, cricket singing in the tall grass fireflies drift through the twilight, like tiny lanterns. The sun burns the Earth, until even even the trees seemed to sigh with exhausting. A quiet pond hidden beneath twisted Cypress trees, and curtains of hanging moss a place where the water is always cold. The locals have a warning they pass down from generation to generation do not swim after sunset do not dive in the deepest part and whatever you do don’t look beneath the water.
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