I know, this is also the title of a novel of Patricia Highsmith, but my post is absolutely irrelevant to it (actually I never read it).
It is a gloomy rainy day today and my wife and I are dog sitting. This morning, we were asked if we heard the owl crying last night. Sadly, I did not. In previous visits here, I have heard the owl and even seen a glimpse of it. Their cry can be quite spooky, and so is their appearance in the dark. They are at the origins of many ghost stories. It is not surprising hearing them and seeing their spectral face. I am in an ideal place to find inspiration for a ghost story: Brittany is a land filled with legends and superstitions, it almost looks like autumn, we are close to a wood and there are owls crying at night.