It was a cold winter’s night. It was late, and we
were driving back home. There were no other cars except
for us. Things were quiet, slow and subdued in the world
of snow. Looking out the window, I notices something quite
unusual about the street lights. Maybe it was the weather,
air pressure or something other climate related thing, but
every single street light had a distinctive beam of light
traveling upwards.
	I can’t quite describe the effect this had on the
atmosphere, but simply put, it was beautiful. Imagine
every road you travel along lined with columns of light
that touched the sky, only to be cut off by the clouds of
which glowed orange. Traveling along the highway felt as
though we were witnessing the halls of a giant king.
	In a dream-like state, we cruised our way though the
passages, clearly marked by the periodical columns. As we
continued the drive home, the number of lights slowly
disappeared, and so with it, the magic.
	Ghostly indeed, I have never since encountered it 
again, no matter how cold the nights are.