I have the urge and eagerness to write I’m almost craving to feel the tangible feeling of the pencil between my left index and forefinger, but everything that I compose does not forge together and mesh the way that I want it to.

The rain made me very lethargic and eery today– I’m not sure why. Normally I praise the rain as it serves as a soothing sound as it plummets down against the glass windows and gravel, but today it brought weariness with it.

The horses could sense it too. They plowed across the damp ground heavily. Their rhythmic four-beating hoofs permeated the earth as they ran down from the top of the hill, seeking comfort and shelter under sagging the White Pines.

Everything was on edge. Even the wind would not stop howling. The only thing that rings with the wind tonight is the ticking of the Grandfather Clock hanging on the unlit wall.

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