The morning is my favorite time of day. So, during the summer one night, I set my alarm for 4:00 AM and went to bed. I awoke, dressed, and walked onto the porch. It was still very dark outside and created a scene and landscape of my street that should have frightened me, yet only nourished the bizarre excitement pounding within my skull. The clouds were a dark gray and flew at an unbelievable fast speed across the star-lit sky. The houses -- houses I have known all my life -- appeared dark and deadly, the dwelling of recluses and warlocks. The tree branches were like spider's fingers, dancing all about. Shadows were everywhere.
The snow fell for the first time Sunday morning. Imagine, if you can, me, jumping about in excited anticipation. Somehow the snow evoked strange emotions of old-fashioned Victorian winter within me. Thanksgiving shall soon arrive and I will sleep in and wake up late. I will stay up late at night and watch Twilight Zone and other far-out midnight shows. Then, in the morning, I will complete work on BOOK ONE of my novel. I will rarely venture out into the cold outside.