A letter

Dear Rouge,

I was walking through the moors the other day when a strange thought entered my head. It was, perhaps, owing to the old highway man setting offered by the place. The moon was a ghostly galleon on shining seas and all that, the road was a ribbon of moonlight tossing and turning and in the distance, I saw this little hut sitting on the top of a little hillock. Next to the hillock was a burial ground, of sorts; however, instead of the usual cross sitting on top of the graves, I saw fantastic designs sticking out of the ground. Some were in the shape of hands, grasping for something, others were lightning bolts shooting up, opposing the sky gods while some looked like weeping willows fortified with the strength of a thousand oaks.

So it was, that this thought began to cross my mind, as is quite natural in such circumstances. Why are our minds so tuned to the supernatural? Is it because we hope to see such a thing exist in an otherwise mundane world, or does our brain naturally reverberate with thoughts of the supernatural for a purpose? Horrible thought, could it actually exist?

Let me know what you think.

Cheerio,
Bleu

P.S. Give my regards to the wife and kids