Hey peeps. I'm not gonna be around the blogosphere next week. Stupid adulthood and its attendant responsibilities. So if I don't comment on your posts, it doesn't mean that I don't adore you like a fat kid loves cake. If anyone wants to write me a guest post, y'all know where to email me at...
...crap, I probably should have sold that prospect a little more. Tell you what, make it about soda, candy or some other delicious foodstuffs and there's a Sweet Blogger Award in it for ya. In the meantime, I'm leaving you with a tale of terror I wrote to put you in the mood for Halloween shenanigans.***********************
He cursed himself. How could he have been so foolish as to dabble in the black arts, of which he had so little understanding?
The foul creature he had summoned to do his bidding was relentless and completely out of his control now. In desperation, he seized his axe and hacked the creature to pieces, showing no mercy. He sliced and chopped away until tiny, unrecognizable pieces covered the floor.
Finally convinced that it was destroyed, he went into the other room. He sank into his chair, panting with exertion. The ordeal was over. He closed his eyes in silent thanks, letting out a sigh of relief.
But wait! What was that sound? A horrible rustling filled him with dread. It couldn't be! Surely he had killed that...
thing?
Dear God, no! Each tiny sliver he had cut from it had awoken and grown into an exact copy of the original monster! He had unwittingly created an army of evil beings, now grimly marching back and forth about their work. In vain he tried to stop them, but they simply ignored him, jostling him, scratching and trampling him in their relentless journey from the fountain to the well and back again. In their mindless determination, they began to flood the room with water.
The tides swirled and rose around him and he panicked, grasping a book of magic that floated past and desperately searching for a spell to end this terror. He was fighting to stay afloat when he became caught in a vortex and began to scream for help.
His master, finally aroused from his slumber, came to see what was happening. Bristling with rage, he quickly dismissed the flood waters and the evil creatures, before demanding his magical hat from his grateful but terrified apprentice...
... And Mickey never abused the dark arts again.
