Happy Hour

Celebrating the timeless ritual of swapping stories at the end of a long day.

During the darkest hour in the dead of night
The damned congregate at an ancient site
A circle of stones where they rest their bones
While trading tales of haunt and fright

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Author’s notes: This very simple poem was inspired entirely by the etching pictured above, which I stumbled upon while researching for another story. The skeletons look so casual and nonchalant. I couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about.

Feel free to caption this image in the comments if it inspires something from you as well.

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