Darkness, hidden in light, makes a meal.

Bella stared out the window, her brow wrinkling as she slowly caressed the purple cloth cover of the book in her hands. Outside moonlight turned the world into painting of silvers, blues, and blacks. The stars faded in the glow of the full moon, only the brightest making their presence known. Around her the room was dark. She had turned off the lights when she realized she no longer needed to read what was contained within those purple covers to know what was there. The words forever seared into her heart.

It was one of her mother’s many journals, written in her neat hand and still holding a trace of her perfume even after all these years. Bella smiled and held the book to her chest. Of all of her writings this was the briefest. A single sentence placed in the very center, surrounded by pages of the purest white. 

‘Darkness, hidden in light, makes a meal.’

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