Summerdale at Twilight

I see lost souls in the twilight grasses of Summerdale, Alabama. The clusters of light dot the fields like fireflies, stretching beyond the fence and down into the valley below. I look upon them like faces in a crowd, with a curiosity of who they were, where they came from, and why they want me to see them.

Orb, my cat, walks by my side. Black thoughts cross his mind and he scampers into the fields. He soon returns to display the grisly bones and bloody bowels of his latest victim. He’ll remain content until the next creature that rouses his hunting instincts wanders by. Not long I’d guess.

The smell of salt water and the sound of the ocean waves grow in intensity as we near the white beaches of the Gulf of Mexico. There are many “visitors” here. My instinct has always been to call them that, though that does not always describe them. They light up the coastal vista and the deepest and darkest ocean waters.

The lights flickering all around me, I remove my sandals and walk knee deep into the waves.

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