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There’s a feeling in the air that is more than pipe smoke.  Almost without thought I ready my coffee maker and flip the switch, filling the apartment with the churning sounds of brewing darkness.  It is Friday the 13th.  A full moon visible and an edge to the night.  Common sense tells me to sleep.  I have much to do in the morning, but it is need holds me back.  An idea in my mind.  Germinating.  I glance to the old wooden desk and see my typewriter gleam in the light.  It calls to me.  I dare not resist.

It is an eldritch call.  A call of power.  Tonight words can live.  Tonight stories become more.  The beasts and demons crowding my mind scream for release.  The heroes and helpers stand vigilant behind them.  Some will win.  Some will lose.  Not even I can predict which.  I settle myself in my chair.  A prayer on my lips that I survive the night.

Tonight anything can happen.

Tonight is a Writing Night.

 

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