The klaxons blared in the creeping fog of the neon demon night...


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Doris plucked another hand from the pile on the counter before her; it was slim and pale, having belonged to someone who'd never done a day's work in her short life.


The best kind, for her purposes.


She set it palm-down on the oaken cutting-board, splaying out the slender fingers just so and raised the ancient polished iron cleaver overhead. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of her own reflection as she brought the blade down.
 

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
From within the depths of sleep,
Like a dragon in the deep.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

When the blazing sun is gone,
When the darkness shines upon,
Then you show your stunning fright,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!

Then the creatures in the dark
Thank you for your mighty spark;
They could not smell which way to go,
But your fires led them so.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
 

Joshua Dyal said:
It'd be better if it did, yeah.
Click to expand...

All shall be revealed by the opening of the twelth seal.

For 'lo - I turned my eyes northward and a heard a rumbling from the bowels of the Nothing. The cacophy of a million demon spirits rushed over my ears and made them bleed.

Doom is at hand. Stock up on concentrated milk, for in the nether days cats shall again be gods among men as they were in Egypt.
 

Deep in a murky swamp, a dragon sleeps restlessly.

His claws flex in the muck, lying atop his stolen hoard of broaken dreams and bitter candy.

His dreams are strange, of purple lizards and evil frog-men, of a tree without an end...
 

The princess wore a gown of simmering blue, and it was the envy of the household. For it was the blue of shattered dreams, and a whole city could not feel enough despair to rival it.

"Come", said the man with the butcher knife. "I will show you what it means to love." And as her heart bled, and her soul fled, and she lay dead, she knew.

Little girls wandered about, singing merrily, dancing in the snow. Deeply disturbed, and desperately needing a night of quiet, the councilmen invented christmas.
 
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Manny turned restlessly in his sleep as a cockroach scuttled over his face, hardly feeling the prick of the needle as it entered the vein in his arm. His blood slowly flowed out and into the tube that ran down into the empty wine-bottle, one of several in a row.

His daughters watched greedily, licking their thin lips, changing bottles out as they filled; the eldest held a syringe filled with bleach, awaiting the moment when she would inject it through the tube in her father's limb.


Would he twitch and froth and scream? Or would he just silently slip away? The report that she'd write would be worth half her grade.
 


I havent done the amount of drugs required to spew forth this sort of stuff in decades. I'm glad to see that SOMEONE is still having fun. :p
 


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