When laying awake at night trying not to scratch, the ol' brain runs down some fairly familiar tracks. Eventually, I scribbled a few of 'em down. At some point, I should put illustrations together for this, like with the Little Creature story, but the drawing goes a lot slower than the writing...
At the edge of a dark and dreary forest, on the slope of a hill crowned by a dead oak tree, in earth churned by the writhing bodies of worms and slicked with the secret secretions of slugs, there was a hole, and in the hole was a mandrake root. ( Read more...Collapse )
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