(1/2) She was on vacation with her husband and they were scoping out graveyards on the way, as you do when she saw it. Rising out of the old cemetery, big as an old (macabre) telephone pole. Was this some kind of bizarre art piece the authorities hadn't gotten wise to yet?

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Yesterday I was at dinner with my parents, and as grace was being said I thought "I really need to improve that rape/execution scene in the first chapter of my clopfic" which blessed be by the time nobody reads this I will have done.

Then I ate some great fettuccine.

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Every night, it curved into his dreams, folding into view from around impossible corners, one gaping socket always on him as it silently glided. He thought putting some distance between the thing he'd found in the attic and himself might help, but no, it met him on the road.

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"I had that nightmare again, about the horse on the stairs."

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