| rdfs:comment | - You're hungry/sleepless/need to use the bathroom, whatever, you decide to traverse your house. As you open the door from your room to the hallway you are no longer in pitch black darkness. The moon is at its brightest and largest. Shining through a window, it has created a beam of light that heads directly down your stairs. At first you walk directly past the beam of light. You stop, you walk back in line with the beam, and there you see it. Fear and Excitement. An indistinguishable dark figure, incredibly withered, reaching out a hand. You're petrified, but you slowly descend the stairs.
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| abstract | - You're hungry/sleepless/need to use the bathroom, whatever, you decide to traverse your house. As you open the door from your room to the hallway you are no longer in pitch black darkness. The moon is at its brightest and largest. Shining through a window, it has created a beam of light that heads directly down your stairs. At first you walk directly past the beam of light. But as your walking past you notice something in the corner of your eye, as you have done so many times before in the middle of the night peering into the darkness, consuming the ground floor of your house. The part of you that hopes for something more to this life hopes this time is different. You stop, you walk back in line with the beam, and there you see it. Fear and Excitement. An indistinguishable dark figure, incredibly withered, reaching out a hand. This is it, this is finally it, the paranormal optimist you are has always said, if something were to ever happen that could prove there were things beyond the rational, hell, if there was even a chance of it, no matter how terrifying, you would embrace it. You're petrified, but you slowly descend the stairs. The figure looks delirious, so weak, so withered, so otherworldly. The next few steps are easier, they should be harder but, you've fully embraced this. Your numb. Your hands are seconds away from touching. Last chance to back away. They say ignorance is bliss. Though you've always preferred John Stuart Mill. They touch. You feel an indescribable feeling, as otherworldly as the figure sloped on the floor that reached out to you. You black out from the intensity of it all. You wake up, confused, in darkness. You see a beam of light shine down from above. You reach out your hand.
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