Jun. 9th, 2020

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It's Tuesday, so today you get a choice between two prompts. Pick one, combine both, pit them against each other - on Tuesday, you choose!

This week, your options are:

Eerie Mall versus Eerie Woods
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The lights were off inside the store, and without them the bright afternoon sunlight that bathed the street outside turned the interior of Noel's Knick-Knack-Bric-a-Brac Emporium into a world of shadows and looming, half-seen shapes.

The sign on the door said "closed" and as he peered through the window, Marshall thought he could see thin layers of dust on the items inside. He reached for the handle, finding only smooth wood where a verdigrised bronze cast of a man's screaming face had once provided perch for a knocker.

"One cursed object too many, I guess," he told Simon, who nodded.


Ongoing Verse: Leprechaun

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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The dangerous words were long and spindly, crawling about on legs made of a thousand thin fonts or wriggling segmented bodies full of punctuation as Janet tried reading them back into the book and Melanie sprayed them with a garden hose carefully decorated with warding sigils drawn in permanent marker.

"I thought you said the things in the lake couldn't read," she complained.

"I said the Mackerel Soldiers didn't read or write any of the Dry Lands' languages," said Janet. "I didn't say anything about Deep Ones leaving tomes of eldritch lore laying about above-water."

"I'm going to kill Marshall."

Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Ongoing Verse: Microwave

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The Changeling stood on the other side of the street, eyes black and glistening in a round, pink face too cherubic to have ever belonged to a human child. The woman holding it's hand was grey and gaunt, the collar of her dress hanging limp around a throat too thin for the size of her clothing.

Simon wondered how many years she'd spent with the thing of carved wood and rough-hewn stone that had replaced her baby, wondered if the fairies that had made the switch imbued it with enough magic to grow and age and learn.

He doubted it.

Ongoing Verse: Holmes Brothers

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Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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It was summer, and the late evening sky was a deep, dark blue. Thin wisps of clouds, black against the lesser darkness, scudded across the endless Indiana sky and laughed at their reflections in the lake.

Janet selected a lump of something raw and dripping from the chum bucket, squeezed it gently yet firmly as she painted over the wards on the door, now dry and faded after a busy day's trade. The air was full of the smell of fried food, cigarette smoke, and the tinny scent of old blood.

Things moved beneath the water.

"We're closed," she said.

Ongoing Verse: Janet

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The lights were on in the abandoned house across the street.

Slowly, careful not to attract the attention of anything that might be watching, Marshall reached across the unmade bed and switched off the small angle-poise lamp that stood on a little side table alongside a glass of water, a bulb of garlic sealed in a specially-designed ForeverWare container, and his notebook.

Now wrapped in concealing darkness, he moved closer to the glass and peered at the bright gold squares that gleamed out from the rotting brick-face over the road. In the attic window something moved, black against the glow.

Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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The typewriter bubbled and hissed under the deluge of holy water, bone-yellow keys engraved with strange sigils fizzing up like a baking soda volcano before melting away, leaving behind only brackish stains that quickly evaporated in the summer sun.

The glistening black coils of the ribbon writhed against the metal teeth holding it in place, twisting this way and that as it fought to get free. One gleaming tendril pulled itself loose, slithering over the dissolving outer case and down onto the asphalt below.

A tattered Sky Monster descended upon it, pinning it in place.

"Nice try," said Marshall Teller.

Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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Ongoing Verse: Writer

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The staircase that wound it's way to the highest points of the Eerie Library was wrought iron, cold to the touch no matter how high you turned the thermostat, painted a light-sucking black that never varied with the lighting.

Metal steps rang as Tod climbed it, heavy boots shaking the thin structure, hands in fingerless gloves clutching the icy filigree of the bannister.

Ahead of him, Melanie Monroe pressed one finger to her lips.

"Shh!" she hissed, at least a thousand times louder than Tod's footfall. "You gotta be sneakier about this!"

Tod nodded. The forbidden sauce recipes lay ahead.

Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Simon laid the well-worn sweater carefully at the bottom of the cardboard box, the arms coiled around the edges, the centre soft and flattened within the woolly ramparts. From their place side by side on his too-small bed, Harley and Tweedle-Tweep watched with interest.

"Okay," Simon said, when everything was eventually arranged to his satisfaction. "I think that'll do."

He turned to his audience, motioned for the little black cockatrice to join him on the dingy carpeting.

"What do you think?" he asked, tilting the makeshift nest so Tweedle-Tweep could get a better look.

Tweedle-Tweep trilled happily, and hopped inside.


Ongoing Verse: Holmes Brothers

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Another mashup from the parts box!

IMG_20200609_200745.jpg

And here they are with their progenitors: Grifford, Ber-Terr and Strong Lad!

IMG_20200609_200835.jpg
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