Tonight’s twilight was a dull one carrying a vague hint of potential menace. The sky was low and laden with blocks of dark cloud driving swiftly from the north-east and seemingly possessed of intent. They could have been an army charging into the fray, or a shoal of sharks hurrying to engage with a feeding frenzy.
The wind at ground level carried a different mood. It was a restless wind, rising to a howl or roar one minute, and then falling to the stillness of a predator watching its prey the next. It all felt uncomfortably ominous. Something bad has happened, it seemed to be saying, or is about to happen before very long.
I’ve decided to call this one the Pre-Apocalyptic Twilight Grade 1. If the wind were to turn colder, it would then be a Grade 2.
So will I continue to build the list of categories for as long as my short life shall last? Possibly, but I doubt it. I get bored easily. And I’m frequently inclined to question where the line should be drawn between a vivid imagination and a hopelessly fanciful nature.
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