“The Harvest Ball doesn’t start until late in the evening. It always happens on the full moon. The moonlight casts a blue glow on the path, interrupted every few minutes by a passing cloud. Mounds of fallen leaves have been swept to the sides, covering the dark earth with beds of color. The library is lit up in the distance, music and voices carrying out into the cold night air. Shelves of books line the walls, and the smell of old paper hangs in the air.”
From: “The Nature of Witches” by Rachel Griffin (via: gildedautumnvelvet)
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“There was a chill in the air and the wind had picked up. Autumn had finally kicked in. It was dark, and the park~filled with pines, maples, and evergreen oaks, along with a bench and lamppost here and there along the winding paths~was full of shifting shadows, most likely the tree branches lifting and swelling in the wind.”
From Serpent’s Kiss by Melissa de la Cruz (via: gildedautumnvelvet)
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“A funny thing happens in the Hudson Valley in the autumn. At first the twilight seems peaceful, the electric blue of day fading and the heavens softening to a pinkish white. The garish red and orange trees mellow like a cat gentling beneath its owner’s hand, and yet the serenity is deceptive. The mood of a Hudson twilight is so uniformly peaceful~a blank canvas~that it routinely invites nightmares.”
From The Wishing Thread by Lisa Van Allen (via gildedautumnvelvet)
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The autumn twilight turned into deep and early night as they walked. He could smell the distant winter on the air~a mixture of night-mist and crisp darkness and the tang of fallen leaves.
Neil Gaiman, Stardust (via: gildedautumnvelvet)
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