The witching hour, somebody had once whispered to her, was a special moment in the middle of the night when every child and every grown-up was in a deep deep sleep, and all the dark things came out from hiding and had the world all to themselves.
Roald Dahl (via talisman)
We tread an eerie road across the moor
where shadows weave upon their ghostly looms,
and winds sing an old lyric that might lure
sad queens from ancient tombs.
From Night by L.M. Montgomery (via mirroir)