I asked the Monster under my bed to scoot

I asked the Monster under my bed to scoot over and anxiously crawled in beside him.My parents' loud arguments carry through the thin walls of my room.Monster says sympathetically,

"My parents used to be like this too. I understand." He inched his clawed hand over, the fur matted and muddy brown, and gently patted my arm reassuringly as the yelling continued.

She abruptly pulled her chair from the table, spilling the wine. "Your face! your face!" "What? What?" Her date looked down at his paws. "Damn, full moon,"

Before he knew it, his werewolf instincts took over and his date screamed as he lunged at her.

His long furry clawed hands grasped his date. She shrieked but he had her sinking his teeth deep into her skin just as the silver bullet blasted into him. He'd warned her and

that was it. He couldn't control it anymore. He shrunk to the ground shrieking in pain. He could feel the silver coursing through his viens.

Years passed and his body gradually decayed away, leaving only the silver that had hardened in his veins where he lay, a vaguely human shape described in delicate silver filigree.

for the sad silver corpse, but stayed for the cotton candy. Consumerism had taken its course, and the keepers of the shrine had to make money somehow. It was, afterall,

The goal was impoverish the sheeple, but this won't stop them from folding stories. Encoding words is the forgotten profession in the age of Communalism. How Hegelian!