Lake Lewisia #918

[scrubjayspeaks]

The ghost haunted the streets strewn with glitter and discarded novelty hats and champagne corks, making the debris tumble like dry leaves in its wake. It's ectoplasm smelled of sparkling cider, and the chill it left in the places it manifested was the cold of old winters--the winters your grandparents remember, the winters with killing frosts and too little firewood. The new year may have been born into its reign, but the ghost of the year now dead had not left the world in peace just yet.

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LL#918