We don't write papers, we build scrapbooks
We don't write papers, we build scrapbooks
It's the time of year when leaves of summer begin to fall. Bare limbs reach for gray autumn skies. Darkness will soon cloak the landscape as the last moments of daylight surrender to the nightfall.
You may hear eerie sounds that stir anxious feelings. A howl somewhere off in the distance or footsteps behind you. A light fog may swirl through the streets and waft slowly through the surrounding area. A full moon may rise and cast a ghostly glow over the terrain. In the mixture of pale moonlight and flickering streetlamps, strange, menacing shadows dance to an unheard melody.
Something goes bump...
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