The Attack

The necromancer unlaced her boots and quietly slid them off. She removed and then stuffed her stockings inside, down into the toes. Pausing a moment, she pressed bare soles to cemetery dirt, relishing the sensation and attuning her senses.

“Quietly, like a cat,” the necromancer mumbled to herself, hiked up the black tatters of her skirt and crept forward. Her familiar, an actual cat, glanced at her, rolled its eyes, laid down, and went to sleep.

Into the cemetery heart the mistress of dread skulked, shushing the ghosts that rose to greet her. She approached an unaware skeleton tending a patch of hemlock.

Without warning, the necromancer leapt forward and attacked.

“GraahhhahHHH!” the skeleton howled, falling over in a heap. The necromancer kissed its skull repeatedly, her hue-changing lipstick leaving dark rainbow marks.

“Did you miss me?” she lazily demanded, curling up around the bones.

“You were gone less than a day, you just went to work,” the skeleton retorted, amusement laced with exasperation.

“You missed me.” Smooch.

I Love Eldritch Libraries art print

I Love Eldritch Libraries art print ($6.00)

Eldritch libraries are special places; they have to be in order to contain such waring, often contradictory realities in a single location.
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