As I stare upwards into its splendor I can not help but think to myself how enchanting a mistress the night is. It is her, not a creature of flesh and bone, which I court, for it is she who is adorned with all the diamonds of the sky. It is to her that a pearl of unimaginable beauty has been given for safekeeping on her neck. It is only her which our creator adorns at times with a thin veil of the wispiest cotton of our world. Her purity and feral nature are what drew me to her in the first place and it is these things which keep me solidly hers. I see now why so many seek her courtship.
     The night has a way of winding her ivory fingers into your heart and soul, and once there, a method of churning your character about until all that remains of it is the most base of your desires, personality, and fear. She makes manifest all that which imaginations calls into being, and it is through her seductive arts that man becomes a creature in frenzy.
     For as far back as we can remember, man has been fascinated with the night. Look to the greatest stories and legends to have ever been told: The Vampire... a creature of night whom sways men and women only to feast upon their essence when he grows tired of the game. The Lycanthrope, half-man and half-beast, who under the spell of the full moon changes into a horrific creature of nightmare.
     She brings to life in me these things. Under the wiles of the moon and stars I am transformed into a hunter of women, a prowler who pounces upon their desires and feeds on them as the vampire feeds on the blood of men. I am given primal strength by my mistress so that another mortal may be drawn into her silken embrace. She champions me and puts into my heart new life, a fire strong enough to melt the sensations of exhaustion and grogginess. In the night, my vision no longer blurs, my eyes do not water, and my hearing becomes acute enough to hear a whisper down the street.
     The feeling is like nothing else I can describe and I loathe to leave it. I take a final breath of the crisp night air before leaving my mistress with the promise of sweet return and set off to meet the taskmaster that is the morning sun.