Conversations with the Dark
“You painted the skeleton bright pink?”
“Why make a thing if it isn’t magnificent, I say.”
“And it breathes fire… somehow… without lungs?”
“And smells of strawberries, yes.”
A fanged horror beyond what imagination could previously construct, building a corporeal form using abysmal energies.
Eyes wide with delight and desperately in love.
“You made a floral crown?”
“Isn’t it gorgeous! I made it with foxgloves from Grimwood Swamp.”
“But the charm says you made it for the headless horseman. How is it going to wear a floral crown on it…” (pause, then spoken slowly) “It is for the horse, isn’t it?”
(Simultaneously, spoken quickly) “It is for the horse, yes.”
(followed by) “…well… I made the horseman a lovely wrist corsage. I didn’t want him to feel left out.”