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One o'clock the ghost comes, two o'clock the ghost comes, three o'clock the ghost comes. . . twelve o'clock he's here. Nothing but fun as we run screaming and laughing playing Witches in the backyard. A game I do not remember all the details of, but I have a childhood friend who can refresh my memory. When night fell, we enjoyed the game even more - until - the fateful night. All the fun came crashing down along with my sister's head against the corner of the cinder block foundation. We gather on and around the backsteps waiting for word on my sister. A trip to the emergency room and a few stitches later has us banned from playing these games at night. Oh no! A few pouts and complaints, I'm sure. How long the ban lasts, I cannot remember. Nightfall brings cities to life, reminding me of favorite nights at the theatre and ballet. Landscape lighting reminds me of favorite Charleston strolls after the sun is set. I also think of the element of creepiness the lack of sun can bring. Film noir purposefully limits the lights, increasing the shadows to add a sinister feel. I know I can be afraid of the dark and am grateful to live in the era post Thomas Edison. I'll enjoy the witching hour with a friend and thank Mr. Edison if I am alone.