The ghost manifested, if it was seen at all, at midnight and stayed no later than dawn. It was seen best by moonlight, with the pallid glow of the moon added to its appearance without drowning it. It did not seem to be a malignant spirit. But it was insistent that it be seen and heard. Being nearly invisible and nearly silent did not help with either condition.
Whatever its mission, it lingered in this world against the normal order of things. The longer it stayed, the higher the stakes became.
Until then, there was something humorous about using the light of a ghost to read by.
No one went there. It was darker, and creepy. It was easier to just go around.
Everyone knew that the best poisons came from its fringe. Nightshade and death-cap mushrooms grew in the twilight near the edge, and Hemlock grew just outside the edge. No one remembered a time when it wasn’t there, looming, and yet ignored.
But those few who dared enter found in its depths a grotto, with a clear view of the sky, and just enough sunlight.