On dark nights, as dark as dark gets, the only things visible through the shadows of the old trees in Smuggler’s Copse are the bright Moon and two bright yellow glowing orbs. Random things, they are, just hanging there. Like eyes on a portrait in a haunted house that follow you as you cross the room.
These orbs, however, are no paintings. And they are eyes. And they do follow you.
Too large to be a cat or an owl or even a wolf, they stare forward. Hovering above the occasional growl, watching and waiting.
For what? Who knows. Does it know? Whatever it is, I’m sure it does.
However, it doesn’t move.
It just watches and waits.
But not for long. When I see it waiting, I’m away. I don’t want to be food, mate or another.
I just check to see if it’s there. On these dark nights.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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